The age of the male hag

This, we are told, is a very bad time to be a woman. When young, we’re warned that we are sexual prey, privy to a misogynistic ordeal both on the streets and in the sheets, courtesy of the jungle of app-mediated romance. Despite being slaves to the gym and learning to pole dance, we still can’t win. We are locked in a never-ending hell spiral that sees droves of us as young as 18 racing to the plastic surgeon, desperate to fill our faces with Botox and hyaluronic acid in a bid to look sexier, younger, hotter, fitter, less tired and more like the stars of reality TV. Did I mention younger? 

And now a new book, Hags: The Demonisation of Middle-Aged Women by Victoria Smith, has arrived. I am not alone in recognising instantly what Smith is cleverly grasping with the title: I, like the middle-aged female reviewers who have raced to praise the book, have felt the ease with which older women can elicit scorn and disgust, even horror.