We are not getting younger. That’s simply reality. And yet sometimes it feels as if we are all quietly competing with a former version of ourselves. As if the goal is to look like we did at twenty-eight instead of becoming more powerful at thirty-eight. The last time I was in Paris, something caught my eye. In a very cool, very hip restaurant, the hostess wasn’t twenty-three. She was older. Impeccably dressed, calm, completely at ease. She wasn’t performing youth or trying to