Natalie d’Arbeloff is a full-time working artist – but it is only now, in her 90th year, that she has decided to openly admit her age. Why? Because of the patronising preconceptions about getting old
For the past 30 years, I have avoided mentioning my date of birth except when bureaucratically, medically or legally required to do so. In all social interactions, I avoid the subject. If I am asked directly why I won’t say how old I am, my default answer is: vanity. It is the truth, and why not? I have reasons to be vain. I have been extremely fortunate with my genes; my mother and father lived until they were 97 and 101, respectively. I’m still a full-time working artist, still exploring, discovering and getting better and better every other day. I don’t feel, think, or look my age.
But this year, on my birthday in August, I will reach a particularly inadmissible number, therefore I have decided it is time to conquer my fear of admitting “the number”. I am finally ready to liberate myself – here goes ... On 7 August 2019, I will be 90. I was born in 1929, the year of the Wall Street crash, which ushered in the Great Depression. Keen to list for this piece some lesser known and less depressing events to commemorate my birth in Paris, I googled the date. But please don’t be amazed that a nearly-90-year-old uses google as a verb and understands the internet. It is normal if they have been that sort of person all their life. True, I don’t know any other 89½-year-olds, but I’m fairly sure there are thousands out there at this very moment, thinking deep and/or funny thoughts, writing and painting, building and dancing, gazing at the stars and generally contributing to the world.
Continue reading...from Lifestyle | The Guardian http://bit.ly/2Tk7ZYE