Why 60 is worth celebrating…
As the Prime Minister reaches her big birthday, Lindsay Nicholson (also 60…) cheers this important landmark
The clerk at the booking office seemed underwhelmed as I confirmed my date of birth. He might at least have – jokily – intimated I was lying about my age to get a reduction on train travel. But no, he just stamped my Senior Railcard – and I officially felt old. So I did the only thing I could think of to make me feel better – signed up to a marathon next year. It’s a conundrum of our times – that while society still regards sexuagenarians – the least sexy word in the English language – as over the hill, we’re living longer, doing more and, frankly, smashing it in a way that’s never been seen before.
Mind you it’s not equal between the sexes. Men get to glide through their silver-fox years, whereas the pivot point for women remains on the day you commence your seventh decade.
Sixty has become a dangerous age for a woman.
No wonder so many women resort to cosmetic surgery and lying about their age. You can’t do that if you are Prime Minister, so I feel for Theresa May reaching – publicly – that milestone tomorrow. No one, other than my mother, was tracking my progress, but I still spent the 12 months after turning 59 in what can only be described as a blue funk about what lay ahead. And this happened despite me being fortunate enough to have a great job editing Good Housekeeping, which champions women of all ages.
This week, actresses won the right to conceal their ages from the website IMDB. The entertainment industry is notorious for age discrimination: in the new thriller Inferno Tom Hanks, 60, is cast opposite Felicity Jones, 32. But it applies in politics, too. When you look at the coverage of Hillary Clinton, you have to remind yourself that she is nearly two years younger than Donald Trump – yet him being past it is mentioned less than his hairstyle.
But today, women are redefining what looking and feeling like 60 should be like never before. Forget “old lady” perms, comfy cardis and elasticated slacks. Mrs May is only our second female PM, but she has stamped a style (bold colours, Vivienne Westwood tailoring and flirty shoes) that is more confident, energetic and fashionable than any of her predecessors, male and female. Margaret Thatcher was only 53 when she entered No 10, but in keeping with the times dressed in more conservative suits with pussy-bows to replicate the old-school ties of the men who surrounded her in Cabinet.
By contrast, Mrs May is unafraid to flash cleavage and keep herself in good shape with attention to diet – to manage her Type 1 diabetes – and annual hiking holidays in the Alps.
There is a shift underway as society ages in a way unprecedented in history. The United Nations recently reported that by 2020 there will be more people in the world over 65 than children under five – so we have to get real about ageing.
Discrimination on the grounds of age is illegal in the UK, yet it’s endemic in many work places. In 1940 the state pension age was actually lowered to 60 for women while remaining at 65 for men. A popular move at the time, but one that enshrined the chauvinist view that women age faster than men.
My grandmother was as doughty an East End matriarch as ever lived. She grew up during the First World War and raised her family during the Second World War, refusing to evacuate even when their home was bombed. She was jubilant to claim what she was entitled to at 60, forcing her way to the front of bus queues with the battle cry: “Let me through, I’m a pensioner you know.”
My own mother, a pioneer in our circle as I was growing up, in that she had a job, retired at 58 and decided to stop dying her hair at 60. She resumed working part-time and is an energetic 80-something now. But one of the difficulties for many of us now is that our mother’s lives don’t easily provide route maps for our own. I am working at the top of a tough and still youth-obsessed industry. I am also married to a man nine years younger and so I’ve had to look hard to find women in similar situations to follow as role models . So, Plan A was to pretend the birthday wasn’t happening at all. But then on New Year’s Day I took stock and I decided that it was time for an overhaul. With the help of diet guru Louise Parker I dropped a stone, and, had my hair lightened three shades. Slimmer and blonder, the confidence boost was so astonishing that I thought I could see myself in something slinky for a party after all. And so I booked the venue, which meant telling people the reason for the party – so there I was out and proud. And should the Prime Minister be having a wobble over what to wear for her birthday do here’s my top tip. One of her favourite designers, Amanda Wakeley, has fabulous skin-tight, suede leggings in stock this season. I wore them for my own 60th birthday party last night – and my 23year-old daughter has her eye on them. Prime-Ministerial enough? I don’t see why not.