Women aren't past-it at forty-six

 
Pinning a 'past-it’ note on middle-aged women is mad, says Cristina Odone.
I don’t usually cheer at the sight of Nancy Dell’Olio. But yesterday I gave a whoop of delight at the photo of the preposterous sexpot adorning a tabloid, claiming that turning 50 held no fear for her. I cheered because I had just read about a soul-destroying study that found women felt “past it” at 46.

Past it? Such defeatism recalls a figure long dead and buried – my aunt, aged 46 in 1969. Grey hair cut short to avoid the hairdresser’s bills, a billowing pinny to conceal her overweight body, flat sandals to ease her painful bunions: Aunt Mary carried herself as if life, or at least its pleasures, were over. I don’t know how happy her marriage was, but I do know that she looked and acted no differently from her women friends.

How I wish she were here today! Age is no longer a burka. The thought police can fuss about inappropriate exhibitionism, but 46-year-olds (and those over) feel free to sashay rather than hobble, wear a tight bustier rather than loose cardies, and attract wolf-whistles, not pitying stares. Public life is full of ageless women who refuse to become invisible.

Let’s start with Nancy (she was my age once, but time has stood still for her and she is now a year younger, at 49). The would-be Lady Nunn – she and Sir Trevor are reportedly an item – was snapped braless at a party this week, daring critics to cluck about mutton and lamb. Our Nancy has no time for either: she’s a prowling cougar. She’s invincible, rather than invisible.

Look at Emma Thompson, 50, whose allure increases with age. The mousy-haired luvvy who once clung to Kenneth Branagh's coat-tails has blossomed into a glam blonde with the world, and a younger husband, at her feet.

And what of The Body? Elle Macpherson may be 48, but she’s turned her school run into a stampede of dads craning their necks through the window of their 4x4s, drooling.
IVF and HRT have allowed ordinary women, not just celebrities, to blur the timeline that has trapped us since Eve. That six-year-old’s mother could be 26 or 46; the CEO could be a precocious graduate or a well-preserved granny. The high street, supermarket, wine bar and corner café are full of women of an indeterminate age who crush the canard of the invisible 46 year-old under their sequinned Fitflop.
Women from Tunbridge Wells as well as Tinseltown benefit from healthy diets, Pilates, yoga, Botox and detox. More important, psychology is no longer the preserve of a handful of Hampstead intellectuals, but everyday fare for everyday folk. Women have never been so self-conscious. They understand themselves as never before. This helps guard against empty nest syndrome, menopausal blues and a low libido. It also alerts them to the danger of stifling their sexuality – a common reflex among mothers, according to therapist Alexandra Blaker.
Such neuroses are soooo thirtysomething they make this 46-plus-year-old smile. I feel huge relief that life is no longer an all-you-can-eat buffet, with everyone elbowing each other to get to the food, but a proper, sit-down meal: there are still delights to sample, and old favourites to savour, but I don’t feel overwhelmed. I’m comfortable in my place, with the company I have chosen, and the dishes I have ordered.
So let’s raise a glass to the one piece of research I do believe in: a study showing that we grow happier as we grow older.