I was at a bar with a friend when she told me she had spotted a silver fox on her way back from the toilet. “Don’t you think it’s strange that we don’t have an equivalent for women?” I replied. “Like you never hear a woman with grey hair being described as a silver lioness, or a silver swan?” In this deeply ageist society, I understand that all of us feel the pressure to look young. We are constantly surrounded by messaging that getting older means fragility, weakness and diminishing of the self, compounded by a lack of visibility in the fitness, fashion and entertainment industry.
But when it comes to being given the grace to age naturally, women as usual get the pointy end of the stick. They don’t get assigned a sexy animal when they go grey, instead they are described as “brave”, “vivacious” or “bold”. God forbid using adjectives that come close to describing them as hot or desirable.
Online, there exists a 91-slide article on celebrities who look better after going grey and not one woman appears. Meanwhile, the George Clooneys and Pedro Pascals of the world only seem to generate more thirst the older they get. They get the luxury of phrases such as “better than ever” and “aged like a fine wine”, while the best remark women can aspire to is that they look good for their age. Particularly in the celebrity world, men have the luxury of ageing on a spectrum, while women have the binary choice of unnaturally wrinkle-free skin like a dolphin or being labelled the brave hag.
The most recent example of this is Jennifer Aniston’s newly unveiled grey hair on Instagram, which has drawn a lot attention online. One might say her reveal is convenient timing given that she’s launching a new hairline. But it begs the question: why is it still newsworthy when a famous woman chooses not to dye her hair, but it isn’t for a man? I can appreciate that the entertainment industry is a bizarro bubble, and so anyone contradicting the status quo is appreciated. But continuing to draw attention specifically to women for how they choose to embrace ageing is just perpetuating differences between the two genders.
Sarah Jessica Parker told American Vogue: “There’s so much misogynist chatter in response to us that would never happen about a man. Grey hair….does she have grey hair? I’m sitting with Andy Cohen and he has a full head of grey hair, and he’s exquisite. Why is it okay for him?” Ageism is kept alive and well by this chatter.
Most women like myself have grown up being told that their worth and acceptance in society is held in how they look. We still exist in a world where female celebrities are scrutinised for how they look in a way that their male counterparts aren’t – recent examples include Billie Eilish, Ariana Grande, Selina Gomez. Then we turn that critical gaze towards ourselves when we look in the mirror. You would hope that perhaps mid-life offers a reprieve from this, but all that changes is the vocabulary. When we continue to use qualifiers like “they look great for their age”, “she still looks good”, “you seem so young”, youth remains the goal everyone should be striving towards.
There isn’t a right or wrong way to navigate getter older – you can dye your hair, get Botox, age naturally, get tattoos, wear whatever you want, or don’t. But there is a fundamental problem in assigning values to these choices rather than viewing them as neutral, and frankly, that person’s business.
To me, the whole point of getting older is liberation, and realising that the details of your aesthetics don’t really matter – being healthy, having strong bones and living a life you love does. It doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to care what you look like – I do, hugely – but I know it is not the most significant, or even the most powerful thing about me.
The other day, a younger woman said to me: “I can’t believe you’re in your forties – I hope I look like you do when I’m your age.” I accepted the compliment but I also felt sad for her because I know that by the time she reaches my age, she will have likely gone through some things that will likely challenge and test the very limits of her character. And when I think about what some of the older women in my life have gone through and survived – from cancer to trauma to losing loved ones – the colour of their hair doesn’t seem quite as important.
