Stevens Viewz
By Steven
I couldn’t agree more with the divine Joan Collins—who, as a fellow Gemini, always knows how to speak her mind. Just last month she said, “It is rude to ask a lady her age.” And I say, absolutely right. While we’re at it, let’s extend that rule to men, too. Age should never be the first thing people bring up at the dinner table—or anywhere, really. Yet, for some strange reason, some people still haven’t got the memo.
Even the legendary Ms Collins never misses a moment to bring up age on her own terms, and good on her. The problem is when others decide it’s their business to discuss or dissect your age as if it’s a defining feature of who you are.
Trust me, being asked, “Guess how old I am?” is the social equivalent of stepping on a rake. It’s awkward, unnecessary, and usually driven by vanity or insecurity. Worse still, when someone asks you how old you are in front of a group—what exactly are they hoping to achieve? Shock? Admiration? Or a bit of good old-fashioned one-upmanship?
Personally, I’m incredibly proud of the age I’ve reached. I’m in great company—hello, Tom Cruise and Boy George! To be able to say I’ve lived a full and colourful life, packed with lessons, laughter, a few bruises and many blessings, is something I treasure. But that doesn’t mean I want to be constantly labelled by it.
Still, I must admit, the age hang-up isn’t mine—it’s other people’s. I’ve been at parties where someone makes an entrance like a movie star arriving late on the red carpet. You know the type—deliberate delays, dramatic flair, sunglasses indoors, and a whole production just to let everyone marvel at how good they still look. And yes, they do look amazing, but does everything have to revolve around how young or “well-preserved” someone is?
I’ve even been in situations where my own friends—who happen to look much younger than their age—draw the same “oohs” and “aahs.” I once attended a dinner with a long-time friend who, despite being in his twenties, has the soul and intellect of someone in his seventies. We were seated with a man I didn’t know, and from the moment he sat down, the conversation steered toward age. He asked if we still went clubbing, commented on siestas as “old man naps,” and suggested that we must prefer quiet evenings now. I stopped him mid-flow and said, “Darling, I don’t do the age thing or put labels on people.”
That’s when it hit me: his obsession with age wasn’t about us—it was about him. My young friend whispered to me later, “He’s projecting his own fears onto you.” And he was right. So many people are battling their own discomfort with growing older, and instead of embracing it, they try to deflect that discomfort onto others. Sad, really.
But here’s the truth: age isn’t a limit or a barrier unless you make it one. I’ve always envisioned myself living with a bit of swagger—relaxed, charming, and totally unbothered. I’ve seen people in their 70s, 80s, and 90s absolutely raving—living their best lives, dancing under disco lights, refusing to be boxed in by the number on their birth certificate. And I say: why not?
Of course, your priorities change. These days, I enjoy good dinners, meaningful conversations, and yes, a nap if needed. But that doesn’t make me any less fun, adventurous, or alive. I just don’t have the patience for drama or superficiality anymore—and I count that as progress.
One thing I wish people would do more is just be. Enjoy where you are, who you’re with, and the life you’re living. Stop measuring your worth—or anyone else’s—by youth, appearance, or how “on trend” you are. Confidence, kindness, and curiosity will outlast collagen and hair dye any day
So yes, age is just a number, and we should all be proud of the years we’ve lived and the experiences they’ve brought us. But really—can we stop bringing it up every five minutes?
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2Shades Magazine 