Later this year the British photographer David Collyer will publish a book, 50 Plus. It’s a series of portraits of men who, like Collyer himself, are in their fifth decade or older and never “grew up”: at least in the sense of the way they dress and regard themselves.
There’s a portrait of Grant Marshall from Massive Attack, looking cool by not making any effort to look cool, along with pictures of other men Collyer randomly encountered: former punks or mods or soulboys. Correction: they still are punks or mods or soulboys. They just might have a bit of belly now, or be thin on top. They might have to take statins.
The idea was to capture a generation of men who are distinctly different from their fathers. Like their dads, they got jobs and mortgages and had kids, but unlike their dads they didn’t feel this meant they had to stop being the person they were as a young man. They defied, or simply ignored, the slightly tyrannous idea that they had to “act their age”: in the process breaking the notion that there is such a thing as youth culture – that certain interests and activities are exclusively the province of the young.
If you’re 20 or 80 – the lifestyle advice is almost exactly the same. Exercise. Socialise. Eat your vegetables. Be careful about alcohol. Try not to smoke
Most societies are still youth-obsessed, of course. But much of that is marketing: creams to prevent wrinkles, designer shoes and hats aimed at making young people feel that their generation is unique. Sorry kids. Every generation is sold that pup.
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The daily reality is quite different now. Collyer says the clothes he wears would not be out of place in his 21-year-old son’s wardrobe, and vice versa. I certainly find that to be true with my own children. Apart from being related to each other, we have an astonishing amount in common. I’m older than them, of course, but I don’t often see that much of a generational difference. I don’t do TikTok. But I could if I wanted. The older I get, the more I feel that the idea of different generations is largely manufactured: that age is important mostly for its medical implications.
Let me strike a cranky-old-man note. We’re all ageing. Whether you are 20 or 80, your life is moving in the same inevitable direction. Thus, is it perhaps a wee bit patronising to suggest that only the 50-plus people should think about ageing? Because – if you’re 20 or 80 – the lifestyle advice is almost exactly the same. Exercise. Socialise. Eat your vegetables. Be careful about alcohol. Try not to smoke.
The only significant difference in the advice tends to be one of omission: older people and sex isn’t discussed that often. There’s still a swirl of discomfort around the subject; a bit of an ick factor: as if there’s a cut-off age, after which you shouldn’t be thinking in those terms. Sex is part of youth culture.
No, it’s not. If anything, older people should think more about their sex lives than the young. Women going through the horrors of the menopause need to be reassured that it is not the end of their life as a sexual being. Widows and widowers should be reassured – and encouraged – to have sex with new people. A hook-up culture for older people? Why not? And men need to be coaxed into realising that a bit of erectile dysfunction is far from the end of their sex world. It’s easy to get pills nowadays. Certainly, no older man relishes telling a 30-year-old pharmacist about what’s going wrong in the trouser department, but that’s far better than a sexless life.
I’ve no qualifications to be giving lifestyle advice, but I will anyway. If you want to age well, have as much sex as possible, whenever or wherever the opportunity arises. Nothing will make you feel more alive.