If there’s one word most people in the Western world try to avoid, it’s “old.” And the discomfort grows when you pair it with the word “woman.”
That’s exactly why Verena Lueken titled her book “Old Women” — a phrase that makes most of us pause for a moment. It sounds like a label, a drawer, a verdict of invisibility, something no one really wants to wear. And yes, Verena Lueken knew what she was doing. Because anyone who flinches at the title is part of the problem.
Her book is not a lament about aging, but a love letter to women who refuse to disappear. Women over eighty who paint, write, dance. Women who refuse to step aside — simply because there’s no place for them in the background.
Verena Lueken thus questions something we’ve all internalized: the idea that youth is everything and age is nothing. In a society obsessed with beauty filters and fitness ideals, aging has become taboo.
“Old Women” is therefore more than a book. It’s a correction. A counter-narrative. A collection of life stories proving that age is not an end, but a second beginning — full of experience, wit, resilience, and yes: freedom.
Because, as Lueken’s protagonist Isabella Ducrot says: “The freedom of a woman begins at sixty.”
From dreaded word to badge of honour
When Verena Lueken began the project, people around her were skeptical. “Are you crazy? No one will touch a book with that title!” But she stuck with it. And today, she receives emails from young women saying: “We can’t wait to grow old.”
In her book, Lueken portrays artists, writers, choreographers — all over 80. Women who still think, create, and work. Women who know their past is longer than their future, yet draw new strength from exactly that. “They’re perfectly aware that the horizon is sinking,” says Lueken. “But they won’t let that ruin their creativity.”
Three women, three paths
Jane Campbell, an English writer, published her first book at 78. She calls herself “not necessarily a feminist,” yet her sentence is quietly revolutionary: “Old women are people too.” A phrase that sounds banal — and yet says everything about the world we live in.
Isabella Ducrot, 94, an artist from Rome, found fame late. She lives in an old palazzo, paints in her ground floor studio, and welcomes visitors only when she feels like it. “I don’t go anywhere anymore — just downstairs from my apartment on the 5th floor to my studio. I need my energy for my work,” she says. Her paintings hang in Naples, Zurich, and New York — but she no longer travels herself.
And then there are the dancers and performers Lueken met. One still practices pole dance at 70: “It gives me strength,” she says. Another waves it off: “I’ve starved and trained my whole life — I’m done.” Two women, two stances — both radically free.
Why “Old Woman” hurts so much
Old — the word itself sounds like loss. But Lueken shows that it’s a socially constructed problem. In Western consumer culture, everything is sold through youth — products, desirability, even relevance. Women are doubly trapped: judged not only by what they achieve, but also by how they look.
“And yet so much is lost that way,” says Lueken. “Experience. Knowledge. Lived time.” Aging isn’t a deficit. It’s the sum of everything that was — and everything that still is.
Voices from "Old Women"
“The freedom of a woman begins at sixty.”
Isabella Ducrot
“Old women are people too.”
Jane Campbell
“No one cares about us anymore — wonderful! We can do whatever we want.”
A portrayed artist
“Growing old isn’t the problem. Being made invisible is.”
Verena Lueken
The beauty of a life well lived
Verena Lueken has always found beauty where others overlook it. She speaks of her mother, who died at 93 and “was still beautiful on her deathbed.” And of her grandmother — strong-willed, clever, married three times. “I love looking at old faces,” she says. “They carry time, experience, life. The more identical young faces become through TikTok and filters, the more I love looking at older ones.”
When Invisibility turns into freedom
Many of the women Lueken portrays describe turning eighty as a threshold. The body changes, daily life shifts — but their attitude doesn’t. “These women don’t complain about aging,” says Lueken. “They take it as liberation.”
A quote that lingers in the book: “No one cares about us anymore — wonderful! We can do whatever we want.” Where men mourn the loss of significance, women turn it into self-determination.
The art of serenity
What did she learn from writing this book? “Serenity,” says Lueken. “Maybe learning a little earlier not to rush so much. To depend less on the recognition of others.”
And if she had to put it into one message, it would be this:
“Old women are people too.”
💡 Conclusion
Old Women isn’t a book about weakness. It’s about strength. Not a plea for aging — but for freedom. Freedom to live as you are, beyond expectations, beyond filters.
It celebrates women who reshape the way we see age. Women who say: We’re still here. We write, we create, we think.
And we stop only when we decide to. Or, as Isabella Ducrot puts it: “At sixty, life in freedom truly begins.”
Verena Lueken: Alte FrauenUllstein Hardcover320 pages24,99 EUR (D)
