So the word of the year is “selfie”, I am led to believe. It’s funny how a word can suddenly pop into our vocabulary like that. I imagine it was first used by teenagers not so very long ago, yet I’ve heard women my age say it, usually when discussing what they see on their children’s phones.
Of course, taking a selfie is really only for the young and beautiful – an old bag like me, I spend my time dodging the lens and I have signed up for neither Instagram nor Snapchat so wouldn’t be able to do anything with them anyway.
That model with the big eyebrows and surname that no-one is sure how to pronounce, Cara Delevingne, is the Billy Graham of the selfie – then again, if I had a face like hers on a body as lithe as a puma I’d be taking photographs of myself all day. Well, all the time that I wasn’t being paid a fortune to pose in front of someone else’s camera promoting some over-priced designer schmata.
They always say that beauty is wasted on the young. When you are 18 there is an innocent confidence which is whisked away from under your feet at some point about the age of 28. I see my older daughter’s friends wear knicker-skimming skirts which expose thighs that should really not be seeing the light of day. I may wince but they don’t give a hoot as they head off to the latest club, sashaying down the street and probably causing multiple pile-ups by rubber-necking drivers.
For them, taking photographs of themselves and immediately posting them on to some social media site is part of the night out. “Look at me! Look how much fun I am having with all my friends!”
They’ve even got a word for the strange pout that they all do – it’s called a “duck face”, and if that makes you think of Four Weddings and a Funeral you’re not only about the same age as me, but also far too old to be taking a selfie.