Recently, some friends and I got into a pretty lengthy (by facebook standards) conversation about wrinkles and face creams. The conclusion was that there wasn’t any company out there bottling the fountain of youth – but we already knew that before the conversation started. Interesting that these conversations start at all, but I suppose it’s human to want to stay young and beautiful forever. Thanks, ageist marketing!
Actually, I remember just reading the most fascinating article on this – the writer theoretically pinpointed the moment in history where women past a certain age began being shunned in society. The details are foggy, but article had to do with the patriarchal catholic church starting a smear campaign against the then-influencers and leaders of communities, which at the time tended to be wise old women. FYI, last stop on this train of thought is the Salem Witch Trials.
All that aside, you have to admit: there is a beautiful narrative to skin that’s been truly lived in. Older faces just have better stories to tell. Case in point – my grandma Rose:
And Adam’s uncle Dragan:
I think the world would be a different place if we emulated the people in older generations who allow nature to take its course – but I’m not sure I have the courage to let go completely. Then again, the thought of looking like Joan Rivers is a sobering one, isn’t it?
