Madonna, please listen: The world has had enough of the extreme cosmetic enhancements and scary plastic surgeries. Because no matter how you try to spin it, your appearance at last weekend’s Grammys was a grotesque mixture of a too-stretched jawline, overly swollen lips, creepy bleached eyebrows, and skin smoother than a newborn’s.
Not only are people calling you “freaky face,” but you’re freaking out your fans!
This is not to shame any woman who wants to look her best in her 50s, 60s, or 70s. There’s nothing wrong with Botox, nip-tucks, and fillers, but you’re approaching Jocelyn Wildenstein territory — and that’s not a good thing.
As the Queen of Pop — and someone who has been setting trends since the ’80s — it’s shocking how out of touch you’ve become. Not only do you deny having any work done, but the only thing radical about your over-the-top facial transformation is how cliché it is. It’s a major reversal from the last time you debuted a new face back in 2008 when New York Magazine celebrated the look as “a fountain of indeterminate age.”
This disturbing disconnect is all the more confounding considering your history. Back in the early-80s you emerged as a trailblazer who helped propel the nascent punk and dance scenes into the mainstream. You weren’t conventionally beautiful, and you were proud of that. You didn’t shave your armpits. Your hair looked a bit greasy and rumpled. You wore vintage long before vintage was a thing.
In the ’80s, Gen Xers like me were in awe of your provocative style and attitude. You were our favorite pop idol, a female empowerment icon before we even knew what that meant.
We went to your concerts, snuck into theaters to see “Desperately Seeking Susan” and obsessively copied your Reagan-era ensembles of stacked rubber bracelets, bustiers, lace gloves, and fishnet tights. “Papa Don’t Preach” and “Like A Virgin” were our anthems. We even sat through “Shanghai Surprise.”
In the ’90s, you tackled sex with your controversial “Sex” coffee table book. You Vogued. You dated Dennis Rodman. You pranced around the stage as a whip-cracking dominatrix. It was hot.
Being a mom didn’t slow you down. You joined Kabbalah and incorporated it into your music. You embraced techno and electronica. You kissed Britney and Christina, way before being bi or queer or whatever you call it was accepted. We cheered as you continued to push the envelope.
Your whole career became about transformation and reinvention. You debuted a sculpted body and suddenly everyone was chasing after yoga arms. You dated younger and younger men. You started looking younger and younger, too. You got more political, too. But you still seemed to have agency over your choices – you still looked like you!
But then, perhaps as a result of spending too much time on TikTok during the pandemic, your face became unrecognizable and bizarre. The social media videos were cringe-inducing. For the first time ever, you were not only trying too hard – you were failing.
It’s been sad to see you lose the thread on aging. Both because it’s just, well, sad. But also because your quest for eternal youth is just so out of touch with today’s generation of women of a certain age.
Take a look at Gen X stars like Naomi Watts, 54, Jennifer Aniston, 53, Jennifer Lopez, 53, Gwyneth Paltrow, 50, Cameron Diaz, 50, and Drew Barrymore, 47. They are acknowledging getting older while having honest conversations about aging. Watts even started a menopause-themed skincare and wellness line called Stripes.
That’s not to say these (admittedly younger) women haven’t had cosmetic procedures done or used injectables. They probably have. But the emphasis is on appearing refreshed – and still basically like themselves — not the 8,000-year-old vampire who introduced Sam Smith.
Even women far older than you are done kowtowing to standardized beauty norms, as evidenced by the recent media tour Sally Field, Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, and Rita Moreno have embarked upon as they promote their new movie, “80 For Brady.” All have stopped dyeing their hair, proudly showing off their status as silver vixens.
Being 64 in our youth-obsessed culture can’t be fun, even with a sold-out tour on the horizon. And there’s a limited playbook for older sex symbols unless they’re men. But, the days of our mom’s ’80s-era, too-pulled, over-tight facelifts are over. And apparently, you didn’t get the memo.
For decades, you’ve helped women like myself to embrace getting older. Now you just seem like a victim of the beauty aging complex you somehow managed to always make your own. It’s like you have dysmorphia around aging, when so many others are celebrating, or at least dealing with, these rites of passage.
Madonna, please listen: No one’s suggesting going gray or letting yourself go. We just want you to age with a bit more grace and class. After all, we grew up with you and will always love you – even if you, like us, give in to those wrinkles and crow’s feet. Show them off, it’s OK; we’ll respect you even more for it.
