A few days before Kris Jenner dropped her latest Vogue cover, I noticed frown lines forming between my eyes. Not good, I thought, furrowing my brow. I'm going to end up like one of those stern-looking ladies who people assume is a bitch ‘cos where else did she get those scowl lines from? Still, something stopped me reaching for the pot of Trinny London's Retinal Serum that has been languishing on my bedside table for the best part of the year (and the year before). But when I read the headline of Vogue Arabia's latest cover star – Kris Jenner on Power and Beauty: “This Is Aging Gracefully, My Version” – something inside me snapped. Stop the ride, I thought. I want to get off.
When I first started trying to break into journalism, I was obsessed with beauty. I blogged about my favourite Tracy Beaker looks, how bath bombs were soothing my broken heart, and why REN's Ready Steady Glow Daily AHA Tonic made me feel like I had my life together. Five years – plus a subscription to Jessica DeFino's newsletter – later, beauty is rapidly losing its hold over me. And not just because REN has shut up shop. For me, now 30 years old, beauty is no longer just about fun; it's about looking 22. Worse still, celebs like Kris Jenner are pushing the narrative that looking 22 is simply a question of optimisation, rather than a fraught socio-political statement.
In May earlier this year, Kris reportedly “broke the internet” when she turned up to support daughter Kim Kardashian at the Court of Appeal of Paris. While eight men were sentenced for robbing Kim at gunpoint in 2016 – during which, Kim testified, she feared she would be raped – swathes of us were apparently more interested in Kris' youthful appearance. As Vogue Arabia reports, “It was a non-stop guessing game of what procedure she underwent, how much it cost, and who her doctor was.”
As it happens, the doctor in question was Dr Steven Levine, a New York-based aesthetic and reconstructive surgeon. “I decided to reveal some details because I feel it can be very inspirational to people who aren’t feeling so great about themselves,” says Kris, on her decision to be transparent about her facelift.
She continues: “I decided to do this facelift because I want to be the best version of myself, and that makes me happy.”
“Just because you get older, it doesn't mean you should give up on yourself. If you feel comfortable in your skin and you want to age gracefully – meaning you don't want to do anything – then don't do anything. But for me, this is ageing gracefully. It's my version.”
Here, Kris uses the age-old – no pun intended, etc – disclaimer of personal choice to evade social criticism of her decision-making. It goes like this: if you, a woman, choose to do something, that decision is inherently ~empowering~ because you've exercised your own free will in a world where women's agency is scant. This logic works well for say, ordering Chinese food at 10am or free-bleeding on day four of your period, but it starts to fall apart when your decision-making, at the very least, adheres to a beauty standard that is crushing women and girls.
Here, I should add my own disclaimer: I'm not, necessarily, the heinous bitch my resting face would have you believe. I understand why Kris Jenner wants to look 22, and I'm certainly not immune to the pressures that dictate how we, as women, show up in the world. I'll let you in on a little secret: I gain and lose half a stone every year. I don't do it on purpose; I just get through a lot of potatoes during winter. During the time when I am missing those seven pounds, I feel sexier; I feel more empowered. But the fact that I am smaller – and therefore a smidge closer to the societally-accepted beauty standard – is not actually all that empowering. If anything, it's depressing as fuck. And I wish we could talk about that, away from the theatrics of faux-empowerment that prop up the same systems that feed on our insecurities.
Forget the courage to be disliked, I want to see more celebrities like Kris Jenner embracing the courage to be old; to be wrinkly; to be unabashedly human and proud of it. I want Judi Dench shouting “YOU’RE NOT YOUNG!” at Cate Blanchett in Notes On A Scandal to be lovingly etched into our brains in case we ever need a reminder. I want us to remember that Death Becomes Her was a warning, not an instruction manual.
When I, God willing, reach the age of 69, I want the people around me to know that I've always been fun at parties; that I scowl when I'm concentrating; that I laugh loudly when I'm drunk and that the various struggles and joys of my life have demanded some pretty outlandish facial expressions over the years. I don't want to look like some fresh-faced 22-year-old with it all ahead of her. I'm 69, baby. I've earned my laughter lines.
For more from Glamour UK's Lucy Morgan, follow her on Instagram @lucyalexxandra.
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