Who wants to go gently into “that good night”?
“Not I” said the middle-aged woman wearing white trainers, ripped jeans, teaching pilates and sharing her 20-year-old daughter’s wardrobe.
In an era where ageing comes only second to death on the fear scale, nudging into the middle-aged life bracket has never been less attractive. And what is that age bracket you ask? The middle-aged years have been defined as between 45-64.
I’ll just give a lot of people a minute. Yes, check that fact on on your iPhone that’s set to larger text.
It is right. 45-64. 45? Surely that’s not middle-aged?
What are the ads on your Facebook page? Slippers or engagement rings? FB knows who you are. Post continues…
Being middle-aged is great because you’re not dead, but to the world at large it also means you’ve reached the summit of life and you’ve now started to slide down the other side. And that slide involves invisibility to everyone younger than you, a supposed cluelessness about technology, pop-culture, fashion, passion in general (except gardening and Sudoku), strange body aches and discolourations and exorbitant dental bills.
The thing is most middle-aged people I know don’t come across as middle-aged at all.
The good news is there is an alternative to middle-age that isn’t death. The Telegraph UK reported there is a new ageless generation of women in their 40s and their 50s. These women are Perennials. Being a Perennial is not like getting a Flybuys card – not everyone qualifies.