Happy & Healthy

to hell with the age issue

When I was named editor-in-chief at Marie Claire (despite the fact that I had made a huge fashion blunder), a publicity frenzy followed. I had to ‘dance around’ for the journalists. The. Whole. Time. I practiced my pose (here’s how you do it), said some really stupid things that were completely taken out of context to generate headlines.

One of the things I had apparently said was that working for television after you’ve turned thirty is somewhat depressing. Excuse me but my own man and best friends work for TV for crying out loud. So I found myself walking around with my shoulders slumped and my head down in shame for three weeks. Obviously I had never said that, but that’s what they decided to print, oh well. My man and I are still together and none of my BFF’s unfriended me. But still.

Something else that caught my attention was how they always asked me about my age at the end of every interview. I would then find that number in the intro of the article: ‘May-Britt Mobach (36) was named blah blah blah’. Why? What difference does my age make? Aren’t they asking you about what you do? Not what year you date back from? Should I give them my height and weight next time too?

”What difference does my age make? Aren’t they asking you about what you do? Not what year you date back from?”

Age is just a number if you ask me and I had the feeling that I was being judged even more because of this number. How fast did she become editor-in-chief? Is she younger than ‘the one at Elle’? That sort of crap. When I vented to my art Director Daphne, she said: “I get it. Age is merely a number, it shouldn’t be important, but somehow I always want to know the age of the woman I’m reading an article about and calculate how old she was when she had her first child.”

You probably have an easier time relating to someone when you know their age. But what does that say about you? I know girls who act like grandma’s at the age of 18 and vice versa.

Last night I had to (yes, had to) buy shoes from Miu Miu. MyTheresa didn’t have them in my size and the error sign kept popping up on the Miu Miu website when I filled in my postal code. I figured they probably didn’t deliver to The Netherlands. These shoes are so amazing that it wasn’t an easy ride either to get a hold of them. Lizzy van der Ligt (who had them before I did) told me that she spent half a day searching through London to get the right pair and I knew I awaited the same fate. My colleague Danielle (who doesn’t shy away from an online shopping adventure either) started a full-on investigation and texted me that she found the shoes and that they were A., in my size and B., also delivered to The Netherlands.

So when the kids were in bed, FINALLY, I opened my laptop and went to MiuMiu.com in full speed. The ballerinas were still in my size, check, and the website stated shipping to The Netherlands. Double check. I had to put a space between the numbers and letters of my postal code. After filling in all the remaining boxes, I was ready to proceed to checkout.

”I just want to buy a pair of shoes. Is there a minimum or maximum age to do so?”

You won’t believe what happened next. A screen popped open saying that I couldn’t pay until I filled in my date of birth. MY DATE OF BIRTH. Again with the F’ing age. I just want to buy a pair of shoes. Is there a minimum or maximum age to do so? No? Didn’t think so.

That’s why I want to take this chance to teach all the journalists and people behind Miu Miu’s website an important lesson of etiquette.

There are two things you should never ask a lady. Her age and the number of shoes she has.

End of story.