Traveling As a Woman of a "Certain Age" (aka, The Joys of No Longer Having to Endure the Sexual Harassment I Routinely Endured in My Youth)

I hadn’t consciously put it together until Herve mentioned over lunch that his daughter loved Croatia. Unlike in Paris, she told him, in Croatia she never got cat calls or wolf whistles on the street. My first thought? “Funny, I haven't gotten any catcalls in Paris, I thought things had changed...” And then it hit me, of course, duh, I have changed. The last time I was in Europe alone I was young, and now I'm solidly middle-aged. But I have to say, in this respect at least, middle age is decidedly an improvement.

In Paris, twice, strong young men gallantly offered to help me with my suitcase. (Most welcome, especially since the Paris metro system -- despite some welcome recent improvements -- is still notoriously inaccessible.) Walking home last night along the Vieux Port, past crowds of young men, I felt safe. Once, a young man came up behind me, looked back, and then looked away; like he hadn’t been sure from behind, but looking at my face it was clear I wasn’t of childbearing age, and therefore I was no longer interesting to him. I felt nothing but relief.

Meanwhile, I also love how the middle aged women here dress up the same as the young women - in sleeveless dresses, and chic styles - there is no “frumpification” with age, no changing your style because it's no longer becoming. If anything, I think they get more chic as they get older. It's awesome.