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Even now, decades after the glamorous sixties and my youthful prime, I still find it hard to accept that I’m old.
After all, I can run upstairs (on a good day), kick a ball with my grandkids (ten minutes at most) and continue to cling to that gray chestnut that age is just a number — and that you only feel so old.
Having fun lunches together with a gang of my old (in both senses) model friends, we call ourselves the Golden Oldies. So I had to laugh when my youngest granddaughter, with her Persil-white teeth, looked at me curiously recently and said, ‘Why are your teeth so gold, Grandma?’ There are certainly moments when I feel every second of my 82 years. And I’ll admit that quite a few of them come when I look in the mirror, because there’s no quicker reminder that I’m far from the young being who was showered with compliments in my teenage years.
When I was 14, my father, who was an Air Force medic, was deployed Singapore and we traveled there by ship. One of the sailors took off my hat as I passed, and out popped a slip of paper telling me in large letters that I was beautiful. I loved it! On the return voyage a year later, I attracted even more attention. Accompanied by a couple who fell on his feet, I had a wonderful time as glamorous young soldiers vied for my attention.


Sandra Howard (82) was photographed in London, Paris and New York, and she even appeared on the cover of American Vogue several times. The former model opens up about her struggles with aging. Sandra in the picture on the left was 26 years old and is now 82 years old
I had no shortage of partners in games and dances on the ship’s deck, and when we landed in Zanibar on my 16th birthday, they threw me a party ashore. They made me feel like a million bucks and they swelled up too much.
At home, though, it was all against the A-levels, but luck was just around the corner. When I was 18 years old and a student at the modeling agency Lucie Clayton, I was sent to be examined as a possible replacement for a model who fell ill.
The shoot was for Vogue magazine ‘Young Idea’ with renowned fashion photographer Norman Parkinson. He liked the ‘raw’, I was told, and he might…
It turned out I was, and with my first Vogue shoot I was soon traveling the world, being photographed in London, Paris and New York, even appearing on the cover of American Vogue several times.
I was constantly showered with compliments, photographers told me ‘you’re great, girl’, ‘cheekbones’, ‘you’re ace!’
I tried really hard to take all the flowery flattery with a big pinch of salt and not let it go to my head. After all, photographers will say anything to try to get the best picture.


Sandra modeling diamond jewelery aged 29 in 1969 and (right) aged 82, now a grandmother and writer
Even so, I still expected heads to turn when I walked into the room. I got used to men watching me. . . and women looking down their noses at me.
I enjoyed the wolf whistles from the builders, the occasional squint when checking in for a flight. No, it’s not right, but I’m afraid life is easier if you’re pretty. He could even park his car in private business lots if he could look the big, full eyes at the man in charge.
I loved everything about it, so it would be disingenuous to say otherwise. I didn’t obsess because I knew I was just lucky to have my looks and career. But I enjoyed the warmth of male attention.
And so, as my 20s gave way to my 30s and then motherhood, the flow of compliments began to dry up—and I was surprised at how much I missed them.
I knew it was coming – all models. Every modeling career, no matter how successful, follows the same inevitable path.
The aging process is not a beautiful woman’s friend. There comes a point where you have to bow to the laws of gravity and time and start thinking, ‘So what?’ Who was I without these tools of my trade?
I enjoyed the wolf whistles. No, it’s not right, but I’m afraid life is easier if you’re pretty
So it was comforting to read actress Greta Scacchi, who says she found her own way to come to terms with this progression.
At 62, she says she now sees it as a “relief” that she no longer has to be labeled “pretty” as she’s been cast in older, more meaningful roles — ones that don’t require her to count calories. or consider the pros and cons of a surgical knife.
Like many, I vividly remember Greta’s cool, standout beauty when she starred in White Mischief. That bone structure! That sexy!
So forgive me if I find it hard to believe that she didn’t experience her moments of depression as she went through this period of adjustment as a new, older face greeted her in the mirror every day.
There must have been moments when it seemed like he was looking at a stranger.
Such is the curse of being beautiful. While every woman finds it hard to come to terms with the ominous ticking, ticking of the clock to some degree, any woman even half as beautiful as Greta must inevitably realize that the aging process is even harder.
So we do our best to continue to look our best, chasing that much-needed morale boost that comes with looking good – and a few compliments to go along with it. So we buy literally tons of make-up, go to nail bars, spend hundreds of pounds at a time at hairdressers; why some people decide to spend thousands on Botox, breast augmentation and facelifts. Whether we are 20, 40 or 60 years old, we never stop trying.

Sandra in 1964. The former model reveals that she believes life is easier if you are beautiful
I remember spending a lot of time blushing in mirrors during that ‘transitional’ period.
If people saw me scrutinizing myself, it was not out of vanity, but the grim realization that I looked more tired, more wrinkled. Simple and very depressing, a much less flashy, less glowing, less bouncy older woman.
Modeling jobs slowly dried up. I gradually had afternoons, then whole days, without a reservation – something unheard of in my prime – and my mood dropped.
I tried cucumbers on my eyes, eight hours of sleep, one medicine after another to chase away the years. But nothing too drastic – my husband wouldn’t allow it, saying he loves me the way I am.
Comforting words. But it was much less when a man at dinner said with sincere interest: ‘You have a lot of crow’s feet around your eyes. Maybe that’s why my wife never smiles…”
My 30s were still busy and exciting, while a wonderful surprise party on a barge on the Thames took my mind off the milestone of turning 40. But early menopause at just 44 and eventually turning 50 was when the blackest depression hit.
Without much hope of anything more than a trickle of ‘older women’ modeling jobs, I felt I was thrown out; an empty shell.

Sandra reveals how she has now accepted her age and doesn’t believe or act like she’s the age she is
Apart from everything else, I always earned my money and was able to treat my family, especially my mother who was widowed very early and was struggling. To make matters worse, the times conspired to make me feel that my role as a mother was diminishing as well. One child has already left university; others were taking school exams.
I needed a new project and I was trying to do a little PR. But my heart wasn’t in it and I was worried about what else I could do.
Other friends of the model have similarly moaned, but some have found rewarding outlets. My closest friend became a successful interior decorator, which sparked my envy.
It was a bit of a bittersweet realization that if I hadn’t been so photogenic in my youth, I might have gone to university and found a career that would have taken me even more over the years. My friends outside of the modeling world seemed much calmer and less obsessed with looking their best than us ‘golden oldies’ who still had to put on make-up.
I remember one extremely beautiful model who had problems with men over the years and started drinking. Although she still had shades of her former beauty, she never seemed to find that sense of fulfillment that makes life so worthwhile.
It wasn’t until I finally gained enough confidence at 60 to pursue my secret ambition to write novels that I regained a long-lost sense of excitement and thrill.
And like Greta Scacchi, I found that new avenues opened up, often where I least expected them, as my appearance no longer took center stage. I guess they take me a little more seriously now that I’m writing books. Writing novels opens doors: you meet people, you learn a lot from research, you get asked for your opinion. My life is busier now than I ever imagined it could be in those long ago modeling days.
I agree with the views, both literary and political, that I was too shy to express at the time, when I was afraid everyone would think I was stupid as a model.
While I still like to imagine that people might think “he doesn’t look too bad for his age” when we meet, I’m under no illusions. Long gone are the days when a pharmacist would ask about my pension status and make me cringe, or the days when I would get goosebumps if a nice person offered me their seat on the train or subway.
Now I’m just happy to gratefully accept the seat. I also love it when glamorous young men snatch my luggage from my wrinkly old hands and effortlessly carry it up or down the stairs. But when they do, I still smile and include as much charm as I can muster.
The other day I slipped near the bottom of an escalator (so embarrassing) and a big, burly guy picked me up and carried me to safety.
I still batted my eyelashes instinctively as I thanked him. Old habits die hard!
I don’t want to think and act old either. My husband Michael and I recently went on a road trip, driving from Seattle to LA, living out of one bag, and I loved every minute of it. Dreaming of exploring Chile and Easter Island.
Still, it’s impossible to avoid those daily reminders—the stiffness, the creaky joints, the background noise (the excuse for deafness)—how old I really am.
But how you experience aging is all about your mindset.
My elder son is 50 years old. He was in his 30s when he suddenly decided to lose some weight and start training and competing in senior track and field. Now he gets excited every time a new big 0 birthday arrives, going from the oldest in one group to the youngest in the next.
If we all looked at aging with such wonderful positivity, we might just stay younger in spirit.
I know that whatever future age I manage to reach, I will still cling to that old chestnut that you are only as old as you feel.
- Sandra Howard’s latest novel, Love at War, published by Book Guild, is out. Follow her on Twitter @howardsandrac
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