27 Is Still Sexy...

...Right?

Apr 16, 2024

(Above: The last day of 26 at The Carlyle.)

“…thirty seems the end of all things to five-and-twenty,” Louisia May Alcott writes in Little Women. “…but it’s not so bad as it looks.”

Before those over 30 hit me with an eye roll, even you have to admit it’s a rite of passage to be in a quarter-life existential crisis before you hit the decade that actually defines adulthood. I realized that 26/27/28/29 is like uni but for adults. Twenty-six was the freshman year of my adult life. 27 is the sophomore one. When you graduate, you are a bona-fide adult. Whatever that means.

Alcott’s line comes at a poignant moment as I, and many I know, are creeping on their next decade, 30 or otherwise. But the title of this newsletter actually stems from a conversation that happened last summer—and the quandary I am now posing to myself on my last day of 26. It was a brainstorm for a fellow writer’s essay, and we were toying around with the idea of including their age in the title/headline. Another writer asked, “how old are you?” To which the writer in question replied, “27.” This earned an enthusiastic nod, flippant hand wave, and a drawl of “Oh, 27 is still sexy.” Which really meant, yes, writer in question should (could?) include their age.

The exchange happened so quickly I didn’t have time to formulate a thought. It also took me by surprise—the writer proclaiming that 27 was still sexy was a person I’d deem…progressive…in the sense that I knew that on principle, they’d probably reject what their sentence was really saying on an ideological level. But here we were, with the messaging so ingrained in our psyche that we would blurt this out, even if we would reject it in other circumstances.

I’m not saying that the sentence is correct or incorrect. I simply find it intriguing. Sexy means, among other definitions—but for the purposes of this newsletter, “exiting, appealing”. We equate youth with being those things. But I’d like to assert that being older merits the definition, too. In fact, if we’re going with the above definition, then some of the sexiest people I know are older than me—some far past the arbitrary age of 27. So maybe my question here is: When do we stop being sexy? Is it a number? Is it a mindset? Is it both? Who decides? Why do we allow them?

Perhaps I should start by saying that there are many things objectively un-sexy about aging as it relates to physical wellness. Your back hurts. Your knees creak. Health conditions like heart disease and worsening eyesight and cholesterol may beset you. Dementia, Alzheimer’s, reduced mobility. I think we can universally agree: Things like that don’t fit the bill of “exiting and appealing,” right?

Then there’s the psychological aspect. Recently, I’ve been having a number of conversations with people about what makes us “old”. There’s a clear demarcation for the threshold of adulthood: 18 and 21. The pathway to “old” is rather obfuscated—it’s not like we all retire at 65. In trying to piece together an answer, I’ve realized that the mindset is what defines “old”—and hope draws the boundary line.

Hope is sexy. Sexy as hell, even. It’s exciting. It’s appealing. Hope is the definition of excitement, because it keeps us expectant of the future. Maybe being without hope is what makes us old, because we’re no longer looking forward to anything. But this is a condition that plagues people across age brackets, I think. And to those who say that older people can’t really look forward to very much, practically speaking, may I politely submit the life and work of Iris Apfel as proof that hope is found everywhere, at any age? (“Get old,” she famously said, “but don’t get boring!”) I think she was pretty sexy—and she died this year at 102, probably wearing her giant spectacles and bedecked in something colorful and joyous.

So is 27 still sexy? Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. For me the answer is yes; there’s so much I’m hoping for this year. But either way, I think Alcott says it best: …it’s not so bad as it looks.

[And the full excerpt, for context:]

…thirty seems the end of all things to five-and-twenty; but it’s not so bad as it looks, and one can get on quite happily if one has something in one’s self to fall back upon. At twenty-five, girls begin to talk about being old maids, but secretly resolve that they never will; at thirty, they say nothing about it, but quietly accept the fact, and, if sensible, console themselves by remembering that they have twenty more useful, happy years, in which they may be learning to grow old gracefully. Don’t laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragical romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacrifices of youth, health, ambition, love itself, make the faded faces beautiful in God’s sight. Even the sad, sour sisters should be kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetest part of life if for no other reason; and, looking at them with compassion, not contempt, girls in their bloom should remember that they too may miss the blossom time—that rosy cheeks don’t last forever, that silver threads will come in the bonnie brown hair, and, that by and by, kindness and respect will be as sweet as love and admiration now. — Louisa May Alcott, Little Women, Chapter 43, “Surprises”

And this quote also:

What I’m Reading

“Whatever You Do, Don’t Do the Silent Treatment” - Arthur C. Brooks, The Atlantic
“Exploring the True Beauty of Blackness Beyond Desirability” -Nia Shumake, Elle
“What Does an SAT Score Mean Anymore?” - Jeffrey Selingo, Intelligencer
“An Atheist Chaplain and a Death Row Inmate’s Final Hours” - Emma Goldberg, The New York Times
“Why the **** Does Everyone Swear All the ******* Time?”- Constance Grady, Vox
“‘How I Paid Off $36,000 in Credit-Card Debt’” - Charlotte Cowles, The Cut
“Nostalgia for a Dating Experience They’ve Never Had” - Faith Hill, The Atlantic
Romantic Comedy, - Curtis Sittenfeld (I also highly recommend her Pride & Prejudice parody, Eligible.)

What I’m Writing

The Precipice

ICYMI, I’m launching an interview titled “The Precipice” this summer. The goal: Honest conversations with women on the brink of their next decade about how their relationship to beauty culture and beauty itself evolves over time. If you know someone who would be a great interviewee, please send them my way!

joyride

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