I mentioned a while back that I've recently reconnected with my best friend from high school. I even posted the photo I took of myself to send her for reference to the now-me, since the me she last laid eyes on had had thirty-seven years or so less sun, stress, gravity, exposure to pollutants, and so on. (I know ... excuses, excuses.)

Well, she managed to set some sort of there-to-here record getting photos ... the non-digital kind that had to come by post ... from her hands to mine in less that two weeks.

In addition to being stunned by how well she managed to whip that poor snail into a delivery pace never seen before, I'm stunned by the sight of her at what has occasionally been referred to as the venerable old age of fifty-six ... she is, well, stunning!

Looking at the pictures, I was, of course, taken back to the days when we were young together ... that's easy to do with so little change in her ... but was also inspired to reach further into the past.

What I went looking for, in biographies, historical documents and family photo albums, was some indication that previous generations managed to pull off the young and fresh look past fifty.

Not only did I not find any evidence of pre-Boomers keeping the hubba hubba thing going while pushing sixty, it seems to me that throwing in the towel and taking up the shawl used to happen very soon after about the thirtieth birthday.

From the looks of things, the window of cute-sexy-and-gorgeous was only open for a very short time in days gone by, and if marriage didn't slam it shut women closed it themselves, then drew dowdy curtains so no one would get the wrong idea.

Imagine, if you will, the generations ahead of us. Those women who were forty or fifty in the forties and fifties would have rather shaved their heads than be seen shopping for their TV Dinners in blue jeans and bobby socks. Gray ponytails? I don't think so. There were a few middle-aged hippies in the '60s, but tie-dye and fringed leather jackets were reserved for the younger crowd. (Remember? We weren't to trust anyone over thirty!)

Throughout history, young fashions were for the young, exclusively.

There were a few women who lived dangerously, Katharine Hepburn comes to mind, who could pull off the occasional appearance dressed unconventionally, but the world has never had enough Katharine Hepburns to define a generation. She was unique, and her style did not set trends, it defied them.

For the most part, until we came along women 'looked their age'.

We may be getting up there, girls, but at least we're not forced by convention into knee-high support stockings under drab matron-wear. We can, and do, still look good. We can stun at fifty-six, wow at sixty-six, and maybe we'll be turning heads at seventy-six.

I have no doubt my old pal will be doing just that.