Why the midlife world isn't as friendly as it seems

Or how it sometimes just feels like the same old, same old

Before I reached midlife I worked a lot in the mum influencer world (which I’ve written about recently). It seemed that a lot of that world, then grew older and morphed into ‘midlife influencers’.

I don’t count myself as one of these, but still talk a lot about navigating your forties and fifties and how challenging it feels (like having children but less hopeful as you have this dim awareness that ageing isn’t ‘just a phase’ and goes on until you don’t exist ).

Last summer I was invited to talk at a Midlife event. I won’t share the event name, but let’s just say there were a lot of midlife brands there, a lot of midlife influencers and it took me straight back to the mum influencer world.

On arrival, I went into the ‘green room’ feeling the familiar nerves that I always feel when expected to mingle with a group of strangers. I was lucky enough to pal up with a couple of other women, but I chiefly kept my distance as there was an obvious hierachy in place. There was a ‘top table’ which contained a couple of midlife celebrities (Patsy Kensit being one) and then some pretty famous doctors who are often on Instagram (credible and to all accounts nice - I don’t know because I didn’t have the balls to talk to them). On the top table they had nicer goodie bags and all woreVampire Wife dresses (the green one that every woman seems to own if she’s anyone).

The not-so-esteemed-midlife-crowd,’ sat on another table (me included). I hurriedly went through my speech which was all about work (and based on my book) and was eager to see where I’d be delivering it. When one of the significant influencers arrived everyone would crane their neck to see who it was. They’d then comment on their appearance.

‘She looks good.’

‘She looks terrible.’

‘She looks weird.’

‘What has she done to her face?’

That kind of thing.

I was shown to a stage right in the main event hall. I initially thought this was great until I realised it was the place where all the brands were, where in fact my ex-boss was situated (things had ended badly), and that nobody would be able to hear anything I said because they’d be too busy buying support pants/hot flush sprays/calming sleep balms etc. I wondered whether I’d offended the organisers in some way. Then had some very uncharitable thoughts about them.

Anyway I’m a trooper so I went on stage after a well known fitness influencer (very lovely), and shouted at about three people who were sitting near the stage. Even with a mike it was impossible to hear what I was saying so it was like shouting into a void. ‘My Mum would have enjoyed that,’ the sound man said and I thanked him.

In my mind I’d imagined that my boss would witness me doing this kind of impressive TedTalk, and she’d cry with fear and regret, and I’d basically have a ROCKY moment like when he runs up 1000 steps and punches the air. FUCK YOU ALL! That kind of thing.

3 people clapped.

Later, I was invited to speak on another panel about sobriety and this one was also in a relatively small room. It went much better chiefly because there was an actual audience that could hear what we were saying, and the other speakers were great and interesting. I thought I’d check out the main stage.

When I’d been wrapping up my speech downstairs, Anna Richardson, the TV presenter, had mistaken me for the host of this event, and had swept down the stairs -moving towards me as if she was about to embrace me- ‘Hey I think we’re presenting something together later.’ I’d been elated that Anna knew who I was. Then remembered that I wasn’t the host, and it was a case of mistaken identity. She’d thought I was another midlife influencer and realised too late that it was just little ole me.

The main stage was big. It was packed. It had many many women- all of us eager to get insights into how to navigate midlife. It was a mixed crowd, but obviously over-indexing on women in their forties and fifties. They were all clutching goodie bags with support pants/calming spray/anti anger remedies etc. It felt positive. Still I felt uneasy. Like I was back in the influencer world of old- the one where certain people and their opinions have more importance than others.

Patsy Kensit went into great great detail on her struggles with menopause.

‘She looks like ET,’ the woman next to me said.

I was shocked at this lack of sisterly solidarity and remained silent.

As Patsy spoke she shared the fact that she’d been to Harley street to have very detailed blood work done so she could have custom-designed HRT, and since having this done (and multiple other therapies- all private) she was feeling much more herself.

‘Alright for some,’ the woman next to me said.

I shot her a look but was thinking the same thing. I still felt uneasy. The sharing was all very good, very interesting, BUT the giant elephant in the room, the one that nobody wanted to discuss, was the fact that the treatments available, the ones being discussed were not readily available for the vast majority. They were very expensive. Many women struggling to even see their GP and to have a reasonable discussion about HRT in the first place. I liked hearing about Patsy’s experience but knew that many women would be unable to relate because they didn’t have Harley Street surgeries on speed dial.

At the end of the event we were given goodie bags. We shuffled out. A few heroic women tried to get selfies with the big influencers and get their hands on some of the more premium goodie bags. I had accidentally stolen a book by a well known comedian - not realising it wasn’t free, and debated about whether I should return it. I realised I didn’t like her very much and she’d snubbed me when I’d approached to say I liked her Instagram feed.

‘Oh Darling!’ a woman shouted as I made my way towards the exit, feeling slightly sad that my speech had had no impact, my boss would still believe I was useless, that only 3 people had purchased my book, that I would never be on the same level as someone like Patsy Kensit.

I turned around, perhaps I would be validated now? Perhaps this woman would make me feel important?

‘Oh I thought you were someone else!’ the woman said and swanned off.

A beauty influencer was behind me, a woman with more than 100K of juicy followers.

‘We must collab!’ the woman screeched.

‘Let’s do a LIVE,’ the first woman said.

On the tube home I sampled my first bubble tea. My daughter loves them and I thought I would try it just to see if it was nice.

It tasted sickly sweet and was not quite my thing.