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I came across an Instagram story this week from a well-known influencer, one of those women who’s genuinely compelling to watch because she’s charismatic, successful, and clearly knows her craft.
She’s in her fifties now, but what caught my attention wasn’t the product she was promoting, it was what she said. She mentioned that when she joined the beauty industry fifteen years ago, she already felt old.
Old. At thirty-five.
I remember just staring at the screen thinking: what is going on?
Because I didn’t feel old at thirty-five and I certainly don’t feel it now. It struck me how warped the narrative still is.The fact that she did speaks volumes about how the industry conditions women to believe that youth equals value.
We’re still told that “younger” is “better.” That our worth peaks somewhere between beauty and competence, but never both at once. That beauty and a woman over twenty-five can’t coexist in the same frame. Honestly, it’s exhausting.
Men, of course, get to age into authority. Words like seasoned, silver fox, and distinguished come to mind. Women, meanwhile, are expected to stay paused at the point of maximum decoration.
This isn’t about criticising men; it’s about calling out the absurd beauty standards that women are still measured against and examining the systems that keep them in place.
By Design, Not by Accident
There’s an invisible threshold that no one can quite define until they’ve crossed it. You spend years growing and building and then suddenly, you’re either “surprisingly youthful” or “past your prime.” Nothing in between. And it’s particularly cruel because it happens right when women are thriving or, perhaps that is by design.
Because I actually agree with Jameela Jamil here: I think it is by design. Most women (people!) don’t start truly thriving until later in life. Wealth accumulates over time. So does confidence. So does power. And as women begin to acquire all three, we’re suddenly told that our value is diminishing, that our age is starting to show, that we’re losing our beauty, that our appeal is fading.
None of that is true. But the narrative is potent.
It’s hard not to wonder if this is society’s way of saying: That’s enough now. Because if women were allowed to keep ascending, gaining influence, wealth, and self-possession with age, we might start threatening the last space still dominated by men: the very top.
So instead, we’re distracted. We’re told to fight the clock rather than claim more space.
“We’re No Spring Chickens” – Speak for Yourself
A friend of mine had a milestone birthday recently. After I congratulated him, he laughed and said, “We’re no spring chickens anymore.”
I messaged him back and said, “I’m only getting warmed up.”
This was not meant as a dig, it was me saying: stop letting society condition you into thinking you’re declining. I really mean it.
Because the truth is, the older I get, the more I realise how much I still have to give. My conversations have changed. My first instinct now isn’t what could this mean for me? but how can I help?
How can I use what I’ve learned to make things easier for someone else?
How can I remind them that they’re already capable, that they don’t have to wait for permission?
That’s something I’ve noticed comes with age, the shift from chasing opportunities to creating them, not just for myself but for others. It’s not that ambition fades; it just matures. It turns outward.
When I was younger, my head was so full of trying to get it right, trying to be enough, that there was little space for anything else. Now, there’s room to encourage, to advise, to reassure.
And that’s its own kind of growth.
Every Decade Has Its Plot Twist
When I think about it, I felt a version of this before around the time I turned thirty. It was different then. I remember feeling like I was finally becoming myself, like all the noise and pretending of my twenties had started to settle. But my life still felt chaotic, and I was still finding my footing.
Now, though, the feeling is different. It’s quieter, fuller. I know what I can offer not in a performative way, but in a grounded one. Maybe it’s because I’m edging closer to forty. Maybe this kind of shift happens every decade, another recalibration of who we are and what we have to give.
And yes, while the eye bags and declining collagen irritate me, I genuinely enjoy the process of feeling better, more sure of myself, more comfortable in my skin. I hope that offers some comfort to the younger women reading this. Being a woman on the internet isn’t easy; you’re told you start “declining” at twenty-two, as if your best years are already behind you. None of that is true. There’s so much still to gain with age: confidence, stability, perspective, and the freedom to care a little less about all the noise.
I wouldn’t want to be back at twenty-five if that meant reclaiming my whole self at that time. I’m in a much better place now. I’m calmer, sharper, more discerning and most importantly: happier. I know what matters and what doesn’t and I have more to offer the world as my cup is full. Sure, I can afford better skincare, yes, but I also enjoy not being the youngest person in the room. Things don’t rattle me the way they used to.
That’s not decline. That’s evolution. In leadership, too, the goal shifts, from proving competence to multiplying it in others. That’s the privilege of age and experience.
The Car Ride Experiment in Power Dynamics
This conversation about age always brings me back to how power dynamics show up long before we even realise we’re part of them. The truth is, it’s not easy for young women either.
I’ve had more than one cab driver make wildly inappropriate comments on long rides, and thinking about it, on short ones as well. My husband’s mind is often blown when I tell him my latest tale of woe. These comments usually come from men who assume I’m younger than I am. They’re usually a bit thrown when I mention my age (they ask… and sometimes I play along for the craic). You can feel the recalibration the moment it lands: the “young” woman in their head turns out to be an adult with confidence and boundaries.
It’s subtle, but you can feel the dynamic change. When they think I’m younger, there’s a certain license, a sense that boundaries are more flexible, that they can get away with more. When they realise I’m older, that license disappears. It’s not respect; it’s risk calculation. They sense consequences, and that changes everything.
That moment always reminds me how much women’s boundaries get tested when they’re young, not because they’re unsure, but because people assume they’ll tolerate more. Experience shifts that. You stop negotiating your comfort for someone else’s ease.
Maybe that’s what power really looks like: not having fewer challenges, but recognising the game and declining to play by its rules.
Winning starts with seeing the bias for what it is and refusing to let it dictate how you value yourself.
The Great Reconciliation
I was going to give this section the heading “a view from the top”, but I don’t think I’m at the top. If anything, I’ve just stopped climbing the wrong hill.
There’s relief in not caring as much, not in a cynical way, but in a calm, grounded one. The noise fades. You start to see which expectations were never yours to begin with.
The constant scrutiny of women’s age is exhausting. Every comment, headline, and off-hand remark about decline distracts from what’s actually happening: we’re growing sharper, kinder, more capable, more generous. That’s the real progression, and it deserves acknowledgment and admiration, not apology.
The obsession with “staying young” has never really been about youth; it’s about control: keeping women preoccupied with shrinking at the very moment their influence could expand.
And yet, here’s the truth I keep circling back to: I love beauty. I love a good serum, some PDRN, and whatever caffeine promises to shrink my undereye puffiness. I enjoy the ritual of skincare, makeup, and dressing well. I don’t want to reject any of it — I just want to reconcile it. To separate what I genuinely enjoy from what I’ve been conditioned to fix.
It’s the tension every modern woman feels: wanting to look and feel her best, while knowing the system profits from her self-doubt.
Most of us want to look good, to feel confident, to take care of ourselves. I certainly do. But the culture around us has decided that women’s natural evolution, ageing, is a flaw to be corrected. That’s the real trap: we’re encouraged to chase something we will inevitably lose, then judged for losing it.
Awareness doesn’t erase the wanting. I still care about how I present myself. I still enjoy the rituals of skincare, makeup, and style. But maybe reconciliation means exactly this: understanding the game and choosing to play on our own terms.
Happy Sunday,
Emerald
