Rhubarb & custard flavour rock sweets that will be distributed around Folkestone to promote ‘Older Women Rock!’
Month / January 2017
in my day…
Embroidery by Allie Lee, interpreting my poem, ‘In my day’ –
In my day, stockings came in black, bronze and American Tan.
Opening a bank account needed the signature of a man.
Vintage was plain old secondhand. Girdles held in sexual urges,
touching below the waist was no-go and Dusty passed as hetero.
There was no such thing as pubic hair wax and you daren’t use Tampax
or have a sexual climax for fear of being thought nymphomaniacs.
In my day, women were men’s property. There was no Equal Pay Act
till 1970. In the media Black women were only portrayed as maids
or African Royalty. Women had no rights to a husband’s pay,
‘housewife’ was a synonym for female, rape in marriage was
legally OK. To get the Birth Control Pill you had to be married
or you had to lie. In my day, abortion was a crime.
Nowadays a lesbian label can be a fashion accessory,
while gender binary is so last century. Nowadays we’re sold
sexploitation and feminisms of choice in the guise of liberation.
Nowadays age-defying procedures make us older women pixel perfect.
Because We’re Worth It. Nowadays, liberation is distorted into
fifty shades of grey and what was once hard-core porn is now
matter-of-fact everyday. So I navigate nowadays,
excavate my day, my day is nowadays. ‘In my day’ is NOW
lines are one sign I’ve survived
Felt & embroidery artist Jan Lewis of the Profanity Embroidery Group interprets my poem, ‘lines’ –
Lines come from frowning, from genes of course,
from antidepressants and from divorce, from
free radicals, from rays of the sun, from sleeping
on your face and going for a run, drinking from
a bottle repetitively, from diet and pollution and
chewing gum excessively, from denying age-defying
cream, from smiling, from squinting, from inhaling
nicotine, from alcohol [in excess], from drugs,
from grumbling and from too little sex. Yet lines
are one sign I’ve survived. My lines equal ageing.
Anti-ageing equals anti-life. My lines will go, the moment I die
STOP PRESS ‘Older Women Rock!’ has been flagged up as one of ‘the best literature projects with older adults’
Crowdfunder unique rewards!
Please share and pledge to this exciting project….One-off ‘Older Women Rock!’ brooches and necklace, Crowdfunder rewards are moving off the shelve fast so be sure to secure yours at:
another beautiful piece of poetry clothing
Here is the wonderful Annie Taylor of the Profanity Embroidery Group, wearing the mohair sweater she embroidered with my ‘Older Women Rock!’ poem –
Chin troubled
by prickly stubble?
Shave it
Pluck it
Laser it
Fuck it
older women & the beauty industry
An amazing embroidery by Allie Lee of the Profanity Embroidery Group interpreting my poem, ‘cream’
The beauty industry screams Buy This Cream.
Stay Young, Be Happy, perpetual happiness
by virtue of a billion pound industry
that drip drip feeds the need for chemical warfare,
for cosmeceutical skin care to hydrate,
replenish, regenerate. Got taut, tight skin?
You’re in. Got ticking clocks? Botox Detox.
Resist signs of ageing at all cost.
Stop. Reverse. Hide. Slo mo. Smooth your skin ego.
Feel the urge for a youth surge?
Want a victory of science over time?
Want to reignite your youthful light?
Deny age. Defy age. Youthful looking eyes are in sight
with caprylic triglyceride. Uplift with palmotoyl oligopeptide.
You’re in control with phenoxyethanol.
Replump with sodium phytate. No. Retaliate, fight age hate.
It’s a diabolical conspiracy for women to age agelessly,
line-, scar-, blemish-, crease-free.
I refuse to let the forever-young drug
erase the handwriting of life across my face
inspired by ‘Out of Time’ by Lynne Segal, ‘How to Age’ by Anne Karpf and Boots beauty counter
restoring lustre….
An Annie Taylor embroidery of my ‘Older Women Rock!’ poem –
