Meet Larissa Mills—The Accidental Midlife Fashion Influencer

Just don't go calling her an influencer.

Larisa Mills of Mother Says on Substack.

Larissa Mills has 484K Instagram followers, 290K on TikTok (and 3.9M likes), a burgeoning Substack, brand deals landing faster than the designer clothes and cult beauty products piling up on her doorstep, and a UPS driver who no longer bothers asking for a signature.

But don’t go calling her an influencer.

In something of a content-creator Cinderella story, the 54-year-old mom of two behind the Substack Mother Says became an overnight style influencer. Completely by accident.

It all started with one video. Back in 2022, her daughter, Ella, then 17, posted a TikTok riffing on a trend — show your mom, then your pantry. Except no one cared about the damn pantry. Everyone was desperate to know what her mom was wearing. It went viral.

Which tracks: midlife is having a moment, and Larissa — with her signature brand of effortless, ageless style — met it head-on. She’s not try-hard. She’s not trendy. And yes, she’s always dressed like this.

I met Larissa and Ella back in 2023, not long after they blew up on TikTok. We were at the same press trip for the swimwear brand Left on Friday (Jenna Lyons is a huge fan). It was one of those dreamy ones: we were flown to Cabo, stayed at Nobu, and were forced to endure three days of sushi, surfing, wellness, and plenty of swimwear action. I know — a hard life, but someone’s gotta do it. I spotted the mother-daughter duo instantly because, TBH, they looked like deer in the headlights. “I’m not even sure why we’re here,” Larissa told me. They were new to the game.

Fast forward four years, and Larissa — like it or not — is an in-demand content creator, fashion commentator, midlife style star, and style contributor to Marie Claire.

Her rise isn’t just proof that midlife has become sexy and stylish as hell; it’s proof that brands have grown tired of overproduced influencers. Larissa’s appeal is simple: she’s the real deal. The mother-daughter act also speaks to the power of intergenerational content — the perfect two-for-one, hitting two demographics right in the pocket. Actually, make that three-for-one: her son Henry, who’s appeared in her videos, is becoming something of an accidental influencer too. She’s also happily married to her husband Todd, whom she met in college.

Here, she shares a window into her accidentally charmed life — proof that style has no expiry date, that you don’t need to be tech-savvy to make content, and, most of all, what it means when she says she is anti-fashion and anti-algorithm.

Larissa and her look-alike daughter, Ella.

NSJ: Was it at least Ella’s plan to be an influencer?

LM: God, no. She’d actually quit TikTok because she thought it was a time-suck. Then she got back on, posted a video — a trend about your mom’s pantry —, and it went viral. People started asking, “What’s your mom wearing?” That was literally it.

NSJ: It blows up — what next?

LM: People kept asking for more — “Can you do an outfit of the day? What’s Mom wearing?” I was like, “noooooo.” Ella got management. My Instagram was a “mom” account — interiors, trips, no pictures of me. Her manager told me I needed to actually start posting myself. I was like, “noooooooo.” It’s hard for our generation, partly because we’re older, but it’s just not how we roll — all the selfies, the half-dressed stuff. I still feel awkward fixing my hair in a public restroom if someone’s watching.

NSJ: So you finally caved?

LM: Ella’s manager kept giving me gentle nudges for five or six months, and eventually I started doing reels. I’d film these awkward videos in the bathroom, thinking, " This is so stupid, what am I doing?

NSJ: How did you master creating content?

LM: I’m tech illiterate. Ella offered to edit them, and I said absolutely not — I was too humiliated to have my own daughter edit me getting dressed — so I learned myself. About six months in, it was clear there was real money in it. I had no idea this world even existed.

NSJ: Were you always a closet fashionista?

LM: I don’t even know what that word means. But I was always into it. I was the friend you asked to sort your closet and take you shopping. I moved to New York after college and worked in advertising and PR — back when PR actually meant writing press releases. Being from Boston, I’d get on the subway and think everyone looked a little grey, a little beaten down. After four years, nobody looked strange to me anymore — and that was the wake-up call. So I moved back home around 26 — I wanted to live in a house, not a shoebox.

NSJ: You’re a self-confessed anti-influencer—explain?

LM: I wanted a voice in the space — a point of view, a bit of credibility. There’s real imposter syndrome, because everyone’s an influencer now. But I think I’m the antithesis of the “three ways to improve your style” content. I’m 54 — I genuinely don’t think about my age. It has nothing to do with how I dress. I’m not fighting ageism; I’m not fighting anything.

NSJ: You’ve thrown the fashion age rule book out the window?

LM: It’s about intention. I won’t wear something because my ass is showing — not because I’m 54, but because that’s just not what I want to put out now. At 20, maybe you’re fine with it; at 54, your mindset shifts. I’m into a button-down now; I don’t like showing my chest. I lean a bit more towards menswear — funny how midlife hits, and we all want to dress like men. It’s not a rule, it’s what feels good. My mother-in-law follows none of those rules and looks amazing — she still wears a bikini in her 70s. I hung up my bikini years ago, though — not on principle, I just find a one-piece more chic now.

NSJ: Quiet luxury bores you, and you’re “anti-fashion anti-algorithm”?

LM: People don’t realize how sucked in they are — the algorithm’s leading them. Quiet luxury means you’re all dressing the same and you don’t know it. And the ‘90s minimalism thing — we romanticize it, but it’s boring dressing. The opposite of quiet luxury isn’t loud. It’s layered — texture, dimension, old with new. It comes straight from my interior world: different colors, patterns, things with depth.

NSJ: Is that your fashion mantra?

LM: It’s an expression, like interior design. I live in a 1890s New England house, and the climate, the light, the architecture all inform how I want to live in it — warm fabrics I can curl up in. Dressing is the same: where am I, what’s appropriate, what’s functional. And things have to light me up. I like a little surprise. I don’t want to look like everyone else.

NSJ: Describe your signature style?

LM: Foundationally classic in terms of silhouettes, but a little bit sporty, which surprises people, and then a feminine element layered in. I’m an equal-opportunity dresser — dresses, skirts, pants, all of them. But my happy place is a tank, great vintage jeans, flip-flops, and a vintage Fendi baguette. A little sparkle, a little feminine, on a sporty tank-and-jean base. I love vintage Levi’s. I’m not done with flip-flops — jeans sometimes look better with a plain pair. And I don’t really dress for my body type; I wear what I like, even when it doesn’t suit me. Long skirts make me look five feet tall because I have no legs to speak of. I wear them anyway.

NSJ: Do you think that realness is what’s landing?

LM: I hope so, because mine isn’t stylized. In our age group, there are two camps. The aggressive “these are my wrinkles, I’ve done nothing” crowd, which has gone too far — we’re still women who want to look beautiful. I don’t need you to look bad for me to feel better; that’s not inspo, it just makes me sad. And then the heavily filtered, super-polished camp. I’m somewhere in the middle. Plenty of stylish women our age exist — they’re just not out there doing it.

NSJ: Did you ever imagine this would be your life?

LM: Never — I mean, getting to go to fashion shows. Though it’s exactly what I read about and immersed myself in when I wasn’t busy paying the bills in my past life. Maybe I accidentally manifested it. I don’t love being online — and I know how that sounds. The internet feels like one long fluorescent airport terminal: noise, repetition, ads, urgency, someone always selling in an overly enthusiastic voice. I scroll for two seconds, and I’m out. So I disappear into the woods with my dog. I read about ancient worlds, I watch period dramas with subtitles, I took up embroidery. Almost all my inspiration comes from offline — texture, books, film, a woman ordering coffee with her sweater tied in an unexpected way.

NSJ: Do you feel lucky — people would kill for this?

LM: Yes. And it’s not hard, because I love it — the creative side, the design, the collabs. When someone DMs me “I’m going to a wedding,” I’ll spend hours hunting for the right thing — that’s the part I love. People say it’s so stressful, and sure, there are aspects. But I don’t think they’ve worked a real job. A real job is stressful and boring and badly paid. This is a bit glamorous.

NSJ: What does a typical day look like?

LM: Pot of tea, read through all the emails. Meetings about collaborations. I’m currently designing pieces/collections with these brands: Starling Jewelry, Cadence, Ely Ely, and Mister B. A walk in the woods with my dog for some me-time. Editing. Dealing with the gifting — the endless boxes. If I’m away three days, there’s a pile in the foyer. And now writing my Substack, which adds another layer, because getting dressed only gives your brain so much to chew on.

NSJ: OMG — you must get sent so much amazing stuff?

LM: I give so much away — there’s a local consignment shop. Influencers get all this product, people want those exact pieces once they’re sold out, but the influencer can’t resell because the brand doesn’t want them to. There’s demand and supply, and the two never meet. Someone should build a store-and-charity model around it. As for shopping myself, I don’t do it much anymore, except for shoes and maybe bags. A great vintage bag, especially.

NSJ: How would you describe ‘Brand Larissa Mills’?

LM: It’s the outfits, obviously — outfit of the day. And it’s the mother-daughter relationship, because that’s how it started. People still come up to me and say, “You’re the one who does the outfits with your daughter.” That’s the association. And honestly, my third pillar is that I’m a reluctant, accidental influencer. That’s the through-line. I’m not very techie. Instagram’s my main audience. I barely touch TikTok — honestly, I’d scroll for two hours and feel like I’d wasted my life.

NSJ: How do you approach creating outfits on and offline?

LM: Often it starts with gifting — a piece I chose from a lookbook arrives, it’s the shiny new toy, and I build around it. Then I think: where am I going, what’s on this week? Someone once said, “But you’re in Boston, does anything happen?” I don’t care. I’ll wear the most “ridiculous” thing for a small beach town north of Boston — exactly what I’d wear in New York.

NSJ: You’re always flying off somewhere fabulous?

LM: I’m away roughly once a month. What I love most about the trips isn’t meeting other influencers, it’s meeting the teams — the branding, marketing, the people behind the products. Hearing it straight from them.

NSJ: Favorite trip?

LM: Hard to pick. Oak Essentials did a beautiful one in Utah, really well done. I was just in Palm Beach with Yise Beauty; that team is incredible. Creed did a phenomenal one in London. Most recently, I was on a press trip with Marea in Nantucket; so fun. And I’m hosting my own trip of sorts with Anine Bing in the late summer, an embroidery session, shopping, and an in-person get-together.

NSJ: Is it true you’re also a makeup artist?

LM: That was accidental also. People used to say to me, “I love how you do your makeup, can you do it for me?” A hairstylist once had me do makeup for the lead singer of The Cranberries. I was the girl doing everyone’s face at prom. I was an art minor, I love color, I’m tactile. I have to actually try skincare, and if it doesn’t work for me I won’t post it. I don’t see how you can credibly use ten different products at once. I am a fan of Yise Beauty and Laura Mercier.

NSJ: What do you think this all looks like in five years?

LM: I don’t know. I took up embroidery, which I love. I have five cats. I don’t have a plan — I’ve never really had one. It’s building the plane while flying it.

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