Sting in the Tale

I was talking with a friend at the weekend. We were pondering the look of the future. Not clothes, or buildings or cars or anything. People – what people (westerners) might look like in, let’s say, 40 or 50 years time.  Once the preserve of the very rich and famous, cosmetic surgery is now commonplace, even amongst mere mortals.  We all know someone who’s been done – even if it’s a so-called non-surgical procedure like botox or a chemical peel.  

My mate and I are rather old fashioned and like to think that we can hold out against the surgery tidal wave and grow old, if not gracefully, at least reasonably naturally. But we are of an age when we are starting to talk more and more (no, not quite incessantly) about the relentlessness of the march of time and the often devastating effects it can have on one’s appearance, and my motto has always been never say never… 

Back to the future and last Saturday lunchtime’s idle chat. We talked products, procedures and surgery.  Do any of them really hold back the effects of time?  Hardly.  I’ve never seen anyone who’s had surgery and genuinely thought they look younger after it (and God knows, I watch enough of those 10 years younger type programmes and read enough glossies). Better, mostly. But not younger.  Even now in these medically advanced techno glorious times surgery only touches the surface and a good haircut, flattering, fashionable clothes and decent make up can work wonders. Costs a lot less too.  Most people who have had surgery simply look like older people who have been Done.  Others look plain weird. The exception for me is in dentistry and a good bleaching can take years off you – but do beware the Osmond’s style veneers.  Very spooky, very American and very ‘Done’.  

Of course not all cosmetic surgery is bad – breast reduction for the extremely well endowed can improve health, physical and mental, no end.  Facial rebuilding following car accidents or disease offers the chance to look normal once again.  But the key issue here is that on the whole the work needs to be done only once.  Women who undergo breast augmentation in their twenties are looking at surgery every 10 years – when do they stop?  At 50? 60? How do their breasts look then, with skin elasticity virtually nil and no silicon?  When does one stop the facelifts?  At 70? 80?  Does your face hit your chest when you do?  What are the effects of 60 sessions of botox on the forehead (first shot in your thirties or forties, twice a year)? 

My friend and I agreed that one possible future is a society divided into the Dones and the Naturals, the smaller group forming a sub-culture all of its own.  Maybe it will be hip to be natural… the toothless, grey and wrinkled will rise up and celebrate old age in all its ghastliness? Or what if those who hold out against surgical enhancement are in the minority? Will they be pushed out of sight, ignored and abused?  Given that money will no doubt be a determining factor it could be yet another way of marking out the poor and powerless in our world?  And given that we change our scapegoats regularly in 40 years time the bete noire of society won’t be asylum seekers but it could be Naturals… 

What a lot of brouhaha there’s been following the news that Sophia Loren will appear in next year’s Pirelli calendar.  As you’d expect most of it has focused on the fact that La Loren is almost 72 years old, just a smidgen older than another Oscar winning actress Dame Judi Dench, and the last time she posed nude  – that’s Loren and not our Judi you understand – was as a fresh faced and, crucially, unknown starlet aged sweet sixteen.  It has since been confirmed that the iconic Italian actress will, very patriotically, be wearing a dress by Georgio Armani so the nudity thing ceases to be an issue.  A piece in last week’s Grazia magazine shows that the age thing rumbles on … 

I may be a dummy but I just don’t get it.  Sophia Loren is drop dead gorgeous.  She was as a young woman, as a middle aged woman and unsurprisingly – to me at least – is as a mature woman.  The truly, classically, preternaturally beautiful tend to remain beautiful regardless of the unrelenting march of time – Honor Blackman, Julie Christie, Audrey Hepburn, Rachel Welch, Lauren Bacall, Twiggy and Cindy Crawford to name the first few that pop into my head.  Of course they’ve changed a bit, but isn’t change good? Now I’m aware that some of these lovelies have been surgically enhanced but it’s been done subtly; they look like older glamour pusses rather than weird alien beings from Star Wars II like many American actresses who shall remain nameless. And the Pirelli calendar – probably the most famous and prestigious glamour calendar of all time – is all about honouring beauty.  What ever its age. We should be celebrating this shift in our culture rather than slamming Loren for doing something supposedly undignified for a woman of her advanced years.  

As Ms Loren said herself it’s fun and much more importantly it sends out a good message.  Being older doesn’t have to mean that you cease to be attractive and sexy, stop having a laugh, hold back from new experiences, etc, etc.  Signs of this shift are everywhere.  Big companies are choosing older faces – Madonna for Versace, Jane Fonda, Andie MacDowell for L’Oréal, Elizabeth Hurley still holds on to her Estée Lauder contract, the list goes on.  There are those who will argue that Loren is not representative of female OAPs and you know what, I’d agree.  But hell, Penélope Cruz and Naomi Watts who also appear in the 2007 calendar are hardly representative of your average 30 something.  The glamour and beauty industry is all about aspiration and aesthetics.  If you’re in the public arena and easy on the eye you may get offered a beauty contract. If you’ve a lot to say or you write wonderful stories you may get published.  Horses for courses.  I for one like looking at beautiful images of gorgeous people, no matter what their date of birth. 

And the best thing is that the Italian siren will appear in a normal Pirelli calendar, not a specially made for the oldies, making a political statement one like the Women’s Institute calendar of a few years back – spunky though it was.  Beauty is not the preserve of the very young. Anyway, she won’t look like a wrinkly – she’ll be air brushed to within an inch of her life…

How I cheered when I read recently that skinny jeans are on the way out and that the boy-cuts’ star was in the ascendancy on planet fashion. Since the rise of skinny jeans the generational divide, leg wear wise, has been clearly marked. A few short years ago it was (almost) impossible to age a woman by her choice of denim – not so in the past couple. No mature woman of right mind larger than a size 6, except a blessed few including Kate Moss, would dare to venture out in a pair. Unforgiving and uncomfortable only fashion slaves in desperate need of an eye test and the criminally insane ventured into skinny territory. And let’s face it there’s a clue in the name, though really skinny would have been more descriptive. I have never felt more gargantuan than when, in a moment of utter madness, I tried on a pair of skinnies. Teenagers look fab in them even (strangely) those who commit the now unforgivable crime of being larger than a size 12. It’s their youth that allows them to carry skinnies off. Young fat is firm fat and older fat wobbles in a distinctly different, and much more unattractive, way.

So hurrah, hurrah for fickle fashion. Skinnies out, baggies in. I’ve been the proud owner of a pair of Top Shop boy cuts for two years now and they are without a doubt my favourite pair of jeans. I wear them a zillion times more than my boot cuts, straight legs, cropped, knee highs and so on. Comfortable, flattering and now edgy – what more could a mature girl want! Oh, banishment to fashion wilderness for leggings…