Madonna and Me: There is no age limit to saying what you believe

We have both had, at times, tumultuous relationships with men, though unlike Madge I have been happily settled down for more than 30 years. Even in her late 60s, she still seems to prefer the ‘hurly burly of the chaise longue’, to the ‘deep, deep peace of the double bed.’ We are both wont to say what we think, often without thought but always with passion, though her singing voice, perhaps not her strongest suit, is way better than mine. And she can dance. I just can’t.

She “worships” the writer F. Scott Fitzgerald. I still recall my awe on reading The Great Gatsby at 17. It remains for me the perfect novel. And we share a love of Malawi, the small, impoverished country in southern Africa from where Madonna adopted four of her six children. My links stretch back to 2005, when I worked for the former First Minister, Jack McConnell. I have travelled there every year since. I even wrote a book about it.

A few years ago, a good friend of mine and one of Malawi’s top photographers, tried (and failed) to smuggle me into one of her photo-ops. I didn’t get to meet her in the flesh but I did pore over his images of her which, taken in the full glare of the African sun, showed her age. Perhaps it was unsisterly of me, but it made me feel better about my ageing hands that hers were even more scrawny than mine.

Madge and I are also August babies, which means, according to a 2011 report published by the Institute of Fiscal Studies no less, that we will have the unhappiest lives of all, more likely to be bullied, smoke, drink and take cannabis. Interesting. And now it seems we share a love of Greece. Madonna’s Instagram feed this week is full of carefully curated images of her and her family celebrating her 68th birthday in Corfu. “It’s my birthday!” she exclaimed. “Eat, Pray, Love, Drink, Break plates, Feed Cats!! Thank you G*D!”

This weekend, I will fly to Athens for a landmark birthday on Tuesday, where I will definitely be eating and drinking with the love of my life. I may even feed a stray cat or two but no plates will be broken. And while Madonna’s birthday frock was a glorious confection from Dolce & Gabbana’s 2026 Alta Moda collection, I found my white cotton number on the clearance rail in TK Maxx for £15, and I had to lose several pounds to get into it.

But reflecting on my life, as you do when you’re entering its late stage, I have come to realise that the most significant thing that Madonna and I share is our feminism. In the 1980s and 90s, she personified ‘girl power’, believing self-reliance, personal confidence and ambition would overcome structural inequality and misogyny. I too thought that simply being better than a bloke would bring success. How naïve we were.

Today, her feminism, like mine, is more second-wave than disco diva. When she was awarded Billboard’s Woman of the Year in 2016, she made a blistering speech where she called out the “sexism and misogyny and constant bullying and relentless abuse’ she had experienced throughout her career. Life has taught her that sexism is deeply embedded and that one woman, no matter how powerful, can bring down the patriarchy on her own. She warned: “If you are a girl, you have to play the game,” she said. “…don’t act too smart. Don’t have an opinion that’s out of line with the status quo…and finally do not age. Because to age is a sin.”

Looking at my social media feed, where I am constantly berated, not for my opinions but for the ‘sin’ of being old, I share Madonna’s frustration at how older women are treated for daring to speak out, or in her case perform on stage. A gyrating, pouting 83-year-old Mick Jagger is celebrated for his live performances. Madonna, 15 years his junior, is vilified. But like Madge, I do my best to ignore the haters. There is no age limit to saying what you believe, wearing what you love, dancing how you like.

Three years ago, at the Grammys, she gave some advice to younger women. “If they call you shocking, scandalous, problematic, provocative or dangerous, you are definitely on to something,” she said. As I contemplate my eighth decade, I would add a few more tips, some of which come from female friends, others I have learned over the years, sometimes at great personal cost.

Always trust your gut instinct, whether about a potential lover or a new pair of shoes. It is usually right. Build a strong network of women friends. When times are tough, and they will be, they will be there to support you. As I have found in recent years, there is nothing more powerful than the sisterhood in full bloom. But remember, not all women believe in solidarity. Always listen to older women, whether it’s about pensions, juggling motherhood and work, or the best moisturiser. You may think we know nothing, but we bear the scars that prove we know more than you do.

And finally, perhaps the best advice of all. Wear comfortable shoes and don’t overpluck your eyebrows. There is nothing sexy about bunions and, as you age, good eyebrows that frame your face are far cheaper and considerably more natural looking than Botox. Sage advice that my friend Madge has cheerfully ignored.