Sometime in the last decade, without really thinking about it, I retired my cleavage. It's only now, at 51, I'm wondering why.
Breasts are on my mind because they're everywhere right now, popping up on my social media and popping out of magazine pages. At the Governors Awards in Los Angeles last Sunday, Jennifer Lopez wore a Tamara Ralph gown that showed off her spectacular tatas. On the same night, at a different event, Demi Moore showed up at the season two premiere of her TV show The Landman, displaying a dazzling décolletage. Meanwhile, Kelly Brook's 'ample assets' (that classic newspaper description) are securing serious screen time on I'm A Celeb…
Really, it’s been a year full of boobs. It started with Lauren Sánchez (she wasn't a Bezos then) at Trump's inauguration. Back in January, she wore a plunging suit and a push-up bra that gave her such an impressive cleavage that Mark Zuckerberg couldn't help himself giving it the side eye. (N.B. Broadcaster Megyn Kelly was furious Sanchez "could not even keep them covered up for a day.")
There's no age limit on cleavage
Of course, actresses and media personalities have always shown above-average amounts of décolletage on the red carpet, but now, thank God, there seems to be no upper age limit. All the women I've mentioned above are older than 45. Only a few years ago, if anyone post fifty, even post forty, had dared show this much front, there would have been loud (er) shouts of 'put them away.'
All so different from a few decades ago, when the only older woman displaying cleavage on screen seemed to be Bet Lynch from Coronation Street. I remember feeling vaguely uncomfortable when she appeared. When I was watching her in my late teens and twenties, I couldn't fathom that anyone of that age would want to feel sexy, look sexy or be found sexy.
Bygone boobs
Back then, I was proudly showing off my breasts. Gravity-defying and Botticelli-like, they were my best feature. I wore a Wonderbra (of course, I did, it was the 90s) with nothing but a sheer net top over it. I had a faux Vivienne Westwood corset that gave me a Bridgerton-style heaving chest and that, with some black velvet hot pants, was my staple clubbing outfit.
But as I said, in the last decade, I stopped wearing anything too booby. I think I subconsciously I thought that doing so would be vulgar, too desperate dolly, or perhaps pandering to the male gaze. Then there were the body anxieties to contend with. Is my skin there too crinkly? Will the sleep creases have eased by the time I need to go out? Oh, and there's the 51 summers' worth of sun damage to consider.
Going for it
I think, after careful consideration, I'm going to just going to go for it. With good underwear, some faux glow and a bit of shimmery moisturiser, my boobs are more than presentable. And as with getting your legs out, the age-appropriate rule book has been ripped up (see CZJ sporting a black lace mini dress and fabulous pins last week).
I mean, age doesn't put the men off, does it? Gandy, Gosling, Clooney, Pitt and co show no sign of retiring their he-vage…