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" I grew up in government-subsidized housing in near-bankrupt &amp;#039;70s New York City. I&amp;#039;m told that Lahore, Pakistan, today is similar. Cars exploded just because, and Zsa Zsa Gabor got mugged at gunpoint at the Waldorf. My apartment building had a coin-op laundry room overlooking a courtyard that aspired to be Needle Park, but the addicts were not that impressive. Just the same, when my mom did the weekly wash, she always wore lipstick \u2014 and mascara and high heels. As a matter of self-respect. My mother taught me that even if all you are dealing with is a box of Tide and a bunch of junkies, without a coat of Revlon&amp;#039;s Cherries in the Snow, a real woman does not step out the door. And, of course, Mother knows best. Which is why I am horrified by the onset of slovenliness. In my experience it is actually not so difficult to not be a complete pig. I am 45 and in the physical shape of someone about half my age. I realize this is obnoxious to say, but it just takes discipline. I do Gyrotonic sessions three times a week for an hour at a time, and nothing more. I also don&amp;#039;t eat meat, and I take resveratrol. But I have a Mister Softee every day, and when I eat out, I always get the dessert du jour. But I walk everywhere, eat tons of leafy salad and green vegetables, and, above all, I try to be happy and work hard. Even if I am just running out with my dog first thing in the morning, I rub on some SPF 30 cream and Fresh Sugar Ros\u00E9 lip balm. It&amp;#039;s not that I kid myself that a handsome stranger awaits me outside my vestibule as I fetch my first cup of coffee. I simply believe that it&amp;#039;s common decency to be presentable. In the &amp;#039;90s, when the third wave of feminism got going, men came to our gatherings looking to get laid because the movement was so sexy. Which, of course, bothered lots of people who thought fun and feminism didn&amp;#039;t go together. They hated the topless photo of me on the cover of my 1998 book, Bitch. They complained about do-me feminism. And yet that was the heyday of all-girl (or mostly girl) rock bands like Hole and the Breeders and L7; it was a time when women worked on Wall Street and were not just seeking to marry men who did. Demanding standards of appearance are of a piece with everything else. The current state of slovenliness is a sign of a nation in decline and of a despairing distaff population. After all, on the left there is Michelle Obama, and on the right there is Sarah Palin, who are each a few years older than I am. Both are busy working mothers, both are in amazing physical condition, and both have striking personal style and coruscating charisma. As President Obama himself joked about his wife, she has the right to bare arms. When I look at the meticulous style of these women and then walk around Manhattan \u2014 New York City, the international capital of fashion and beauty \u2014 and see women in their twenties who have already given up, my heart breaks. I am not a mean person, but the sloppiness angers me because it is about a wounded world. Like me, the first lady and Ms. Palin probably had parents who imposed a work ethic that translated into discipline in all aspects of life; when we were growing up, not all girls were winners just because they participated. Competition was considered a good thing, and a girl got a tall trophy with her name embossed on it in gold letters only if she really did win the tennis tournament or the track meet. At the time I graduated from college, nobody&amp;#039;s parents would pay their rent once they got their diploma. We all knew how to take care of ourselves. Even with my Harvard degree, when I ran out of money while writing my first book, I was happier to serve cocktails in high heels than to get money from my mom. And now I walk miles in Marni&amp;#039;s five-inch platform T-straps. And construction workers still whistle, which is nice: Catcalls are not a feminist issue, but apathy is. &amp;quot;Elegance is refusal,&amp;quot; said Coco Chanel, which is to say that a woman of style is stubborn and strong. Obviously not everyone is born beautiful, but absolutely everybody can become so. I miss the un-Holy Trinity, meaning, of course, Linda Evangelista, Christy Turlington, and Naomi Campbell. I long for the impossible standard of female beauty as a daily chore for all, not because I want the world to look better \u2014 I want it to be better. I want everyone to try as hard as I do to please be gorgeous, because it&amp;#039;s not that hard, girls. Looking great is a matter of feminism. No liberated woman would misrepresent the cause by appearing less than hale and happy. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.harpersbazaar.com/beauty/health/advice/a898/looking-better-at-45-than-25/>