Gen-X Midlife ‘Meh’

Pamela Paul recently wrote something at the New York Times about Stephanie Dolgoff’s new book “My Formerly Hot Life: Dispatches From Just the Other Side of Young.” It’s about one Gen-X’ers journey from self-mocking to self-mocking.

I wish it was quote-worthy, but due to either Pamela Paul’s work or the source, it’s not. Dolgoff apparently appeals to the tragic, not-happy-enough, angsty, wannabe-Sex-in-the-City fashion-chicks. That’s not a ringing endorsement.

Colin Farrell proves why Gen-X fashion sensibilities must die. While we're at it, can we beat that guy to death with a chafing dish?

But Mary Elizabeth Williams’ Salon.com take, while a response to that piece, is less focused on that crap. It’s more general, far more relevant, and a damned fun read.

…it’s ironic that while this is likely the greatest time in human history to be middle-aged (for which I personally thank you for blazing that trail, baby boomers) we’re still torn up about it. A person over 40 is no longer immediately set out to die on an ice floe, but that leaves the question, What’s left? Are we MILFs and cougars, or just haggard old “formerlies”? We flail awkwardly to finesse this new stage of life, maybe because being older ain’t what it used to be. There was a time we’d just consign ourselves to looking like a Dorothea Lange photograph by the time we had the second kid, but those migrant farmworkers weren’t of the generation that got Viagra and Nirvana. Can we still rock out? Wear funny T-shirts? (Williams)

I wouldn’t know. I was never hip to begin with. Since I was a pre-internet geek, that part of the Gen-X experience was lost on me. Screw the funny T-shirts. How about a clean one?

I was one of those kids that openly resented the Generation X label even as I found it more and more relevant. I was a confirmed loner, but I never had an eyebrow ring or a tongue-stud. Having seen the accompanying high-mileage lifestyle in action, I stand by that decision.

On his cringe-worthily perfect series “Louie,” Louis C.K. delivers the grim news to the Lloyd Dobler generation: “There’s never going to be another year of my life that was better than the year before it. That’s never going to happen again. I’ve seen my best years.” And unlike those lucky enough to be able to make the wracked-with-baggage boast of being formerly hot, he says, “I’ve never gained from my looks at all. It’s not like, oh, they’re going, what am I going to do now?” (Williams)

That’s yet another benefit of not fitting into the anti-trendy crowd.

Gen-X disregard for what people thought of them is something like lore. And like so a lot of lore, it’s bullshit. Just because the dominant fashion was homeless-chic doesn’t mean that nobody cared what others thought. The judgment of many of our peers was as strong as it was in any prior generation. That said, there was still a lot of independent thinking and originality. It just got copied a lot.

If I’ve got potentially 40 more years of living ahead, I won’t spend it as the kind of woman Bowling for Soup writes songs about. In truth, like many people my age, I hated high school and my 20s sucked as much as they rocked. So while we may take the baby barrettes out of our graying hair and no longer fit the description of grrrl, my generation has been pretty busy spending the last few decades living its life, starting its zines, cranking out some great music and generally not giving much of a crap about its hotness to begin with. I’ll gladly answer to “slacker,” but even if it’s with a wink and a self-deprecating laugh over pleather miniskirts gone by, don’t call me “formerly” anything. Because I’m not ready to assume my best years are behind me. And I don’t ever want to define myself by what I’ve been. (Williams)

Let me sum this up for you: If you’re a Gen-X’er and you peaked in high-school or your twenties, then the magic 8-ball says ‘lameness awaits’. All the coolest people I’ve met – of any generation – dust themselves off and get on with life. They don’t pine for fictional glory days.