The age-defying, death-denying Cliff

On Christmas Eve I saw something at my local newsagent that horrified me and nearly made me vomit. It was the Cliff Richard 2013 calendar. The cover showed the eerily youthful Cliff striking a dynamic, action-man pose as he was swinging his surf ski from one side to the other, stopping for just a mo' to be captured by the adoring camera. But there was, curiously, not a fleck of sea foam or any other water on him. He was clad in a life jacket and, disturbingly, his chest was exposed. 

Cliff is now 72 years old, so you'd expect the bloom of youth to have long faded and that there would be at least few grey hairs. But not a single strand of silver could be seen. I think it was the chest hair that produced the involuntary retching action. It was the colour of diluted furniture varnish. Cliff has said that he insists that there should be no "airbrushing" (what a funny, old-school term that is) of his image, but this doesn't mean he hasn't succumbed to the temptation of a bottle of hair dye. I believe Cliff when he says that there should be no "airbrushing" of his photos, given his strong Christian principles and commitment to a virtuous lifestyle. But he has admitted to using Botox at various times and I'm sure that his hair  – both that on the head and on the chest – is no stranger to colour-restoring agents. 

Cliff attributes his fresh and dewy complexion to clean living and an abstemious diet. But having loads of money and not having to work too hard in later life would help to smooth any incipient furrows that might otherwise have threatened to mar his relatively smooth brow.

Cliff should be a marvellous example to seniors everywhere and serve as a role model for those of us who are younger and aspire to an active senescence. But there's something creepy about the Cliff Richard 2013 calendar. I could be on my own here, given that Cliff's 2012 calendar outsold the calendar of the much younger, smoother Justin Bieber. 

There is, however, an antidote to the youth glorification of celebrity calendars. American artist Georgia O'Keeffe has often had her own calendar, and although it was largely filled with her paintings of flowers, you would occasionally see an image of her on the painter on the back of the calendar. But she presented a very different image of old age from that of Cliff. She was probably much older than Cliff when the iconic photos of her face were taken – she lived to be 99 years of age – and it showed. Her faced was deeply lined and parched, like a stretch of the New Mexico desert that became her permanent home after 1949. It was, despite the wrinkles, a very beautiful face that seemed unafraid to deteriorate. Its owner was serene and seemingly comfortable with the way she looked. It was, above all, a fearless face, whose owner seemed unafraid of the inevitability of losing youthful beauty, succumbing to decrepitude – and finally ceasing to exist.

Georgia O'Keeffe as a young woman

What is really frightening, in contrast, are the faces of people who have been disfigured by botched plastic surgery. The expressions of these poor people call to mind the fright masks worn by Halloween pranksters. The flesh surrounding the eyes may have been plumped with filling agents, but this only serves to make the eyes look as if they have been poked further back into the head, the last pinprick vestiges of vitality deeply recessed into a haunted and tortured face. The fillers seek to emulate the attractive plumpness of youth, but they often end up looking like swellings acquired as a result of being punched – but without the bruises. Smiles are sometimes weirdly accentuated – I think by somehow widening the mouth and extending its corners – but the result looks more like an unnerving leer than a genuine expression of pleasure or delight.

The artist in her later years

People who can't bravely accept the inevitability of the ageing process are discouraging to the rest of us. It makes many of us who are younger think that growing older and losing the appealing looks of youth must be an extraordinarily difficult burden, and that the only way to alleviate the distress is to resort to plastic surgery, non-surgical face fillers and litres of hair colouring (which, despite all our technological progress, still looks really dodgy – especially on men). If you can use any of these age-concealing techniques and successfully acquire more youthful looks, then good luck to you. But if you end up getting a trout pout from your over-filled lips, you won't end up looking more youthful. You'll just look old and stupid. Nothing wrong with looking old. But who wants to advertise their stupidity on their face?