The contemporary experience of aging is marked by a profound sense of dissonance, a disconnect between internal perception and external reality. This "age surprise," as it might be called, fuels a burgeoning cultural conversation about growing older, as exemplified by recent articles and debates. Aftonbladet’s Karin Pettersson, approaching fifty, articulates this feeling vividly, expressing disbelief that she could be reaching this milestone, despite enjoying her life more than ever. Conversely, historian David Larsson Heidenblad, navigating early middle age, grapples with the implications of leaving the intense years of early parenthood behind. Both writers, at different life stages, share a common bewilderment at the passage of time and its impact on their identities.
This "age surprise" arises from the increasingly fluid nature of aging in modern society. Unlike previous generations, where age dictated social roles, cultural consumption, and even fashion choices, contemporary life offers a more permeable experience. The lines blurring between generations are evident in shared musical tastes, television preferences, and even clothing styles between parents and their children. This isn’t necessarily a conscious effort to cling to youth, but rather a reflection of a culture where these markers are no longer strictly age-defined. This fluidity extends to physical appearance as well, with cosmetic procedures and medications offering the ability to modulate the visible signs of aging, further complicating the definition of what it means to be a certain age.
This newfound control over the external manifestations of aging, paradoxically, amplifies its internal significance. Aging becomes a conscious choice, a process to be managed, debated, and even financially invested in. It transforms from a passive, linear progression into an active, often perplexing negotiation with oneself and society. This shift is reflected in the surge of cultural discourse surrounding aging, as individuals grapple with the implications of this "new old age." Helena von Zweigbergk and Cilla Ramnek’s “The New Old,” exemplifies this, exploring the complexities of navigating this uncharted territory – from the joys and challenges of dating later in life to the absurdity of being offered a senior discount while feeling anything but elderly.
The contrast between Valeria, the 43-year-old protagonist of Alba de Céspedes’s “Forbidden Notebook” (set in 1950s Rome), and contemporary experiences further illuminates this shift. Valeria’s life is rigidly defined by societal expectations of her age, from appropriate attire to permissible desires. Even her secret diary becomes an act of rebellion, a transgression against the prescribed norms for a woman of her age. Her preoccupation with age-appropriate behavior underscores the stark difference between a time when aging was a largely prescribed social script and today’s more fluid, individualized experience.
The pervasiveness of this "age surprise" suggests it is not a fleeting phenomenon but a defining characteristic of the modern experience of aging. It is a testament to increased lifespans, the blurring of generational boundaries, and the availability of technologies that allow us to manipulate the physical signs of aging. This new reality demands a reassessment of our understanding of age, its significance, and its implications for individual identity. The conversations sparked by this "age surprise" are not merely about vanity or denial but about grappling with the fundamental question of who we are as we grow older in a world that constantly redefines the meaning of age.
The anecdote of Helena von Zweigbergk’s 90-year-old mother, experiencing dementia yet retaining a core sense of self, poignantly captures the essence of this disconnect. Her mother’s statement, "It’s so strange, inside me I’m still me," resonates with a universal truth. Regardless of the external changes wrought by time, the internal sense of self persists, often stubbornly refusing to align with the perceived realities of aging. This internal resilience, this enduring sense of self in the face of physical and cognitive decline, underscores the complex and evolving nature of identity in the "new old age." It compels us to look beyond the surface, to acknowledge the enduring self that persists beneath the wrinkles, the gray hair, and the accumulated years.
