There is this old, simple, square, post-modernist building in front of me. The side of it has been painted three or four different colours in its 50 years standing. The paint is peeling in massive strips off the side of the building revealing the multi-coloured shades of red bricks. Too much sun, too much rain. Yet somehow, something quite naturally beautiful exists in it. All the different colours and textures, and the illusion of different depths. I have seen people having wedding photographs next to building walls like this one. Similar to how my friends recently had engagement photos next to an old, rundown barn outside of the city.
I like how things that become old and rundown can become more beautiful. It gives it character. It tells a story without words. Well maintained or not, it can be appreciated for the years it’s been through. Old is beautiful, in most regards.
Some people only like new things - new, modern-style, trendy homes and apartment buildings. The kind of new things that go out of style in a couple of years anyway and eventually become another expense in order to keep up with the look. And regardless of maintenance, eventually that building will become old. And maybe someone will just tear it down. Or maybe it will stay well maintained. Or maybe it will start looking like this building in front of me, and will be appreciated for its subjectively-imagined story.
But those people, the ones who only like new things, they are the kind of people who don’t like anything getting old. Many of them like Botox: no wrinkles allowed. And they hide their well-earned grey hairs. They have people use knives to lift their boobs up. And their faces. And sometimes their bums. And all of that is fine. I can definitely appreciate new (or do I just mean young?) looking things. They are fancy, and look like they have status and importance. And society agrees with this and often holds more respect for these fancy, new, important looking things (like boobs – fancy boobs are very important. Ahem.)
And sometimes – okay, more than sometimes – I’m really attracted to those fancy, new important things. And while I’m still young in regards to a larger population, I’m just now rounding the age where I’m noticing all the aging characteristics that my elders warned me about (wrinkles, cellulite, joint pains, etc.). And I have to make a decision regarding how I feel about these things. On one hand, it feels nearly tragic to say goodbye to what felt like a never-ending youthful body of which I abused and took great advantage - in all the right ways (don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean by that.)
But my decision, is that I’m going to appreciate the stories my wrinkles will tell one day. Just like one day I will buy an old house, and give it love and respect to show off its well-earned, genuine beauty. And I don't expect that everyone will see the loveliness that I do in the old, paint-peeling, sun-bleached building across the street from me right now. And some people may not appreciate the beauty in my old house, and in my wrinkles.
But that’s okay. Lots of people won’t appreciate their Botox-ed eyebrow line and fake tits.
“I want to grow old without face-lifts... I want to have the courage to be loyal to the face I've made. Sometimes I think it would be easier to avoid old age, to die young, but then you'd never complete your life, would you? You'd never wholly know you.”
- Marilyn Monroe