QUICK THOUGHTS: Sixty-year-olds and timeless beauty.
QUICK THOUGHTS: Sixty-year-olds and
timeless beauty.
If femininity comes down to just being beautiful, what about a 60-year-old who
loses the attributes of youth, those attributes we usually associate with
beauty? It has the signs of its now long journey, like a tree that remembers
the years that saw it live. The body changes, while its inner life improves. A
woman is always a woman, but now with advancing age she is more so. Over the
years, beauty thins out, becomes different, not only showy boobs, a splendid
face, bearing , but a fascinating splendor that invests us sedately, it comes
from real life. A marvelous power that arises precisely from the strength of
age, from the awareness of the past, and at times proposes a furious dignity of
her sex, together with the strength that being a woman generates. The desire is
strong, the desire to be loved is magic and the desire for a partner is
adamant. Some, who have given their soul to their now grown children, live a
free, mature and frenetic ferment, as if to recover that time devoted beyond themselves
. The now unmasked beauty continues to exist and resist. Beauty is always
something that doesn't last, but it's there and it's very dynamic. Am I not as
beautiful as before? I am finally loved for another reason, for another quality
that is finally expressed. The truth is that today's sixty-year-olds, not the
"fake" ones, are still aesthetically fascinating, because they have
abandoned their fraudulent vanity towards the male, narcissism leaves more room
for masochism, and they know how to be action and creativity. Theirs is a
<<great beauty>>, it is interaction, it is good taste, it is the
ability to love, it is sexual freedom, it is a past they want to re-read. We
like them for how they want to love, for how they know how to make themselves
loved, and we look at them with a surprised look, we see them fascinating for
how they give us brilliant examples of life. Their vitality and desire to be,
surprise us peers, they suck us into the vortex of great passions, for life,
for aesthetics, for nature, for children, and they infect us. They shake us
from the torpor that makes us all the same, they make us enter a field of
creativity where everything is still possible. They teach us about life. Above: The Naiad by Antonio Canova