Showing posts with label young women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label young women. Show all posts

Friday, March 25, 2011

Young and older















Here's Astrid, mentioned in my last blog as recipient of the age-inappropriate red skirt. She was photographed on Cuba Street in January by New Zealand's equivalent of The Sartorialist.
Street and City Photos is worth checking out for its images, mainly of stylish younger women.
What I love about The Sartorialist, though, is his wide-ranging eye for men and women of all ages. Here, for instance, is a lovely counterpoint to the picture of Astrid.













This garnered 197 positive comments. One of them was, "[T]his looks like a woman who has lived life." I know Anon meant well but did it not cross his or her mind that this woman still is living life, that she doesn't exist entirely in the past tense?

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Golden lads and lassies must ...

Those trees in blossom brought to mind A's 21st birthday party a couple of Saturdays ago. Her father's house was filled to the brim with lovely young things - fresh faces, bare arms and shoulders, shiny hair, sweet frocks and dizzy shoes. Here's the birthday girl, photographed by Steve Payne  http://gobsmackedinnewzealand.blogspot.com/




It reminded me of a wedding I attended in Morelia, Mexico, 10 years ago. It was held at a country venue, the guests seated under a vast awning out of the harsh sun. The bride and groom were the centre of fond attention, but the real stars were a bevvy of young unmarried women in long brightly coloured dresses. The couple were loved and congratulated, but these blooming girls were regarded with unadulterated joy. The occasion was at least as much a celebration of their youth and beauty as it was of a marriage.

A few nights before the wedding the X and I were taken to The Hummingbird Club. Its speciality was the traditional Morelian dance you can see here  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJAw0e5Wfw0&feature=related
The men hobbled on in a crocodile, leaning heavily on sticks, a hand on the shoulder in front, wearing gruesome old-men masks. They stumped around like this for some time then suddenly whirled into the clog-clacking dance you can see on the clip.  Eventually, they tottered offstage the way they had entered.

Mexicans don't shy away from age and death, which means they don't glorify and, therefore, resent, youth. They rejoice in it, their pleasure heightened by knowing how fleeting it is. Seeing a beautiful young woman is like catching a tree in blossom. You only get so many in the course of a life.