Tuesday, April 29, 2008

The City that Never Sleeps - And Where Women Never Age

Last night my friend offered me one of two free tickets to Carnegie Hall. Arriving early, I waited in the lobby for my friend to arrive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many cases of mutton-dressed-as-lamb in such a small unit of space and time. There were several excellent renditions of the Cruella Deville look, complete with bouffante peroxide hair, witch-like makeup and high-necked dark cape.

It’s funny, as it was only on Sunday that I was just chatting to my friend C… about how New Yorkers really are ‘age defying’. As I stood there last night, I tried to look for one older lady who hadn’t gone to great lengths to disguise the fact that she was past the age of sixty. Scarily, I couldn’t see any. Face lifts, layers of makeup, and who knows how many hours of hairstyling stood between these women’s real selves and their public personae. Whatever happened to growing old gracefully?

And the artifice doesn’t end there. C... and I had originally got onto the topic of ‘fake’ new York when C… recounted her recent experience of trying on a dress at a high-end Greenwich boutique. Finding it unusually baggy around the chest whilst it fitted everywhere else, C… discovered there was a reason for this. It’s all in the label - ‘made in LA’. What significance does that have, you may ask. Well – think about it. LA is the land of… you said it, plastic surgery. Naturally, dresses have to be adapted accordingly. Nice.

Picture: Cruella Deville. Familiar, anyone?

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