You're walking down a street when you notice a woman ahead of you. She's outfitted head to toe in the latest couture, carrying the handbag de jour; she's fit and toned. Whether you're a man or a woman, she has the unsettling ability to make you feel old, frumpy and just that little bit not quite with it. You figure Ms. Lookin' Good is maybe 22, 25 tops.

Then you pass her… and the instant you get a look at her face, you realize that she's got to be 55 if she's a day. You've been had by Dorian Gray Syndrome: (mostly) women who refuse to grow older, morphing into ever-younger and more incredible incarnations as the unacknowledged years pass.

Welcome to the art of aging disgracefully. Even a generation or two ago, you could pretty well guess a person's age by just looking at her. There was an unwritten rule that growing older meant accepting your age and, likely, your age-softened shape. The common and disdainful expression for those who refused to toe the line: mutton dressed as lamb. Today, age may truly be only a number, but its exterior just refuses to admit to renovation.

What's wrong with being mutton? Well, as a society we're generally more active, involved in more sports and fitness pastimes than our parents or grandparents, and unwilling to give it all up unless infirmity forces us to. And why should we? With Viagra, Botox, lifts and liposuction, we can stay ageless forever, in a Jack Benny twilight of 39 - if we'll even admit to that much.

All of this begs the question of what we're supposed to look like or be doing at 40, 50, 60 and beyond. (By the time my mother was my age, 43, she had three kids, the oldest of whom was 22. My son is seven and I try not to calculate how old I'll be when he's 22.) Today, there's a sense that if you're in good shape, why not wear tight clothes and show it off, whether it be the result of Pilates or plastic surgery? There remains, however, a fine line between looking good and looking appropriate, and I think we're still uncertain about what really defines the two.

And, as consultants like to intone, there is a cost associated with virtual agelessness. Many of us will become beholden to the surgeon for continued fixes to keep us looking youthful. Botox expires, skin sags despite face lifts and lipo. Sadly, age is age and cannot truly be stopped. Years ago, I read about men who availed themselves of silicone chest implants, and recall wondering how that was going to look 20 or 30 years hence, when their skin was drooping over a plastic six-pack.

Fashion rules. It always has; it likely always will. As in the last century, the trendy edge of fashion today continues to be driven mostly by film and music stars. Britney, Reese, and Demi (whose toned and terrific body was pretty well the only thing critics noticed in the latest "Charlie's Angels" film -- and maybe that was the strategy all along, deflecting withering reviews about something as trivial as plot or acting) set the pace -- or at least they grace enough covers and interiors of Us Magazine to make everyone think they do.

Of course, there are many women and men among us who are older and still chic. They manage to project confidence and appeal instead of a naked desire to be asked for ID the next time they visit a bar. There is an old saying that elegance is refusal. (Coco Chanel probably said it before her label became renowned for an excess of gold chain and billboard-sized interlocking C logos.) If only we could interpret that to mean something other than fewer clothes and increasing discomfort about acting our age -- whatever that may mean today.

So we're faced with the issue of aging without actually getting older. It can be a tough act to bring off successfully. Just ask Dorian Gray -- who ended up dead in a garret when his body finally caught up with his rightful age and character. The good news for modern Grays: we wear our venality proudly for all to see. With luck and diligent cosmetic application -- scalpel, makeup, clothing -- the interior will crumble long before anyone gets to see the real person.

About Evelyn Yallen

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