That Age, That Youth

OR BETTER YET, the elegance of age, the audacity of youth.

I saw an ad once, a very old one, for a cigarette or liquor brand I think, featuring an old man and a headline saying something about him being able to whine, yell and pass gas as he pleases. It's the privilege of old age. To be able to do absolutely anything you want and nobody can really take it against you.

And that's what makes it so admirable when people maintain grace with age. That added effort to be polite. Sociable. Presentable. I wonder, when I'm old, would I still care about styling my hair or mixing my metals? Or would I be on a rampage chasing down bad servers and attendants in my kitten heels and bejeweled cane?

As for my youth, I've never been a punk or a rocker, or any sort of wild child. As far back as four years old, when I first laid eyes on Anne Baxter as an exotic Nefertiri in DeMille's epic extravaganza, I have strived to be elegant.

I hope to always do.

Elderly lady at the Louvre, young girls at Champs Élysées.