I blame my mother and my lifelong propensity for reading Vogue for my intense fear of aging. The first for dragging me from makeup counter to makeup counter throughout my childhood as she searched for the potion that would make her look 30 forever. Maybe the expensive French face cream worked. She's still beautiful. Children are porous creatures though and I soaked in every ounce of her fear. I learned that women should despise every outward sign of maturity and do everything to avoid it. The later for the hundreds of advertisements and editorials that imprinted a dual, and frightfully damaging, representation of age on me. Their articles told me that with an education, grooming, a trainer and money I could become like the fabulous actresses, politicians, executives and socialites they feature. Their advertisements told me what I had to buy to be this woman and that there is an expiry date on this dream.
It goes without saying that I, like my mother before me, have been purchasing only the best French face cream since I was 13. (Of course I couldnt afford it back then. These items were perennially on my Christmas and birthday lists). A few months ago I noticed a slight wrinkle along the side of my eyes and rushed to Sephora for an $100 night cream to add to the arsenal. Bat shit crazy? Ask me again in 20 years and look at my face while you do it.
I learned to equate aging to the slow decline of my worth as a woman. I as a teenager knew, although without a clear trajectory, that I'd make something of myself. However, deep down I feared never becoming that fabulous woman I wanted so much to be. I feared I would expire at 35 and retire to projecting myself as exhausted in frumpy clothing running after a brood of unruly children in the suburbs. This nightmare grew clearer as I imagined an expiry date on passion in my life as well. Of not being desirable to men anymore. Completely insane, I know.
I find it both peculiar and invigorating that as I actually got older I stopped fetishizing youth with the same intensity I used to. You know how I know the cult of youth is really crazy? What's to idolize in that? We're all at all ages works in progress, but someone so very young is not yet so deserving of the honor of being an example. I started to idolize women with personality, careers, experience and style. Look towards the women you really admire in life. Your roll model is probably not the latest Hollywood ingenue. If it is, Dear Reader, you need to reevaluate your life.
Behold the condensed list of the women I truly admire free of magazine representations of womanhood. And they all have wrinkles (except you Mom obviously):
1. My Grandmother. 88. Always wanted an education, but wasn't allowed to finish school because she was a woman. Instead she went to work, got married and had a child. She lived through what sounded like a pretty shitty slog in WW2 and the Russian occupation. Had to flee Hungary during the '56 Revolution with her family. Learned English and worked in sweatshop conditions until they were established to give her daughter a chance. She's a fighter and the fiercest bitch I know.
2. My Mother. If I put her age here she'd strangle me. Just take my age and add 32. First generation immigrant. Put herself through university and became a business executive before women could wear pantsuits in the workplace. She declined promotions to have the freedom take care of me (and drag me around department store makeup counters apparently). Don't fuck with this crazy bitch. Trust.
3. An Airforce Major. Probably mid - late 40s. We were drunk and hanging out in a bar. She wrote her philosophy for life down on a napkin and made me realize you can be old and fucking cool. I've actually met quite a few middle aged Army/Air Force/Navy types and they are all without exception both crazy bitches and totally fierce. Any woman who got through the CF in the 80s and 90s is hard as fuck no exceptions.
4. Karen, an old family friend. She's probably close in age to my Mother, but I won't say because she'll throw her Prada purse at me through the computer screen. She was a business woman who went with her (awesome) husband Peter to Geneva for the better part of a decade when his work took him there. She is an amazing example of European aging beautifully and stylishly. She taught me the importance of good jewelry, good shoes and a good handbag. More on her in another post before I go off on a tangent.
My point is the women in your life you likely really look up to probably have wrinkles and they still rawk out (even if they don't quite realize how awesome they do the rawk).
Age, like anything in life really, is defined by what attitude you attack it with. I intend to do it like these fine ladies:
FFFFFFFIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRCCCCCCCCCEEEEEE
What follows is a 5 minute break from editorials stuffed with 16 year old waifs. Here are women with personality, careers and whole lot of FIERCE.
These women are older than they look and they rawk. This photograph was taken at an Italian nightclub.
Doing the mom thing without the frump. Fierce.
This lady reminds me of Mom's friend Eva. A well dressed middle aged man is always a very good accessory too.
Hells to the fuck yeah! Doesn't she kind of remind you of cross between Leni Riefenstahl/Eva Braun/the generic movie version of a female fascist and Kelly Cutrone/an art or design world powerhouse/director etc.? Her look just screams crazy bitch, personality and awesome. If she respects you and you respect her you'll be BFFs forever. If she won't look you in the eye don't try to talk to her ever. This bitch has fierce dudes on her tail and the best sex all the time too. Don't you looooooove her? Don't you just want to beeeeeeee her? She's also not 20. Not even close. I have the hardest girlcrush on her and I don't even know her name.
Fucccckkkkkkkkk yeeaaahhhhhhhhhhh doin it ritttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttte. I'm going to start dressing like this every day (even to the grocery store) the second I turn 40.
Middle aged women women into fashion tend to dress way better than young women, too. Firstly, they can finally afford it. Secondly, they've learned what looks good on them by making mistakes.
All above images from Yvan Rodic
This woman is the editor of Vogue Nippon. She is fierce. Learn to wear a suit, if it's your thang, like this woman and you got life down PAT. Although I don't like her sunglasses. Read my post on sunglasses for a full rundown of my distaste for wayfarers.
You will have far more interesting conversation with women than girls. Trust. I was an only child and was practically reared at my parents cocktail parties. Learning to talk to, and like, adults is key to womanhood. I say "like", in the valley girl sense, too much and need to stop.
This woman is evidence why French face cream works. She's is mature and fierce, but so fresh.
French fashion photographer Garance Dore is further pictorial evidence of why French face cream works. . Google couldn't tell me actually how old she is, but I'd guess mid 30s Also, she rocks. Check out her blog linked below.
All above from Garance Dore
Am I ever going to stop dropping $$$$ on French face cream? Fuck no. I'll wear 5 inch heels till I die, too. And never, ever stop gettin' some.
Oh yeah, and when someone asks you how old you are don't be one of those babies who makes a fuss. Own it, bitch.
Xoxo
Erin
P.s. I'm working on ideas for a man style post. I need to cover this aging topic for men too which I believe to be a very different issue, but deeply connected to women and aging.
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