Valerie Monroe on the “nasty cosmic joke” of old age

A Q&A with Oprah Magazine’s former beauty editor and creator of How Not to F*ck Up Your Face

“Show me an old person who loves what’s happening to her body and I’ll show you the magic mushrooms she just ate. Aging is a blessing, but it’s hard.” -

Valerie Monroe

Meeting

Valerie Monroe

in person in Tokyo during my recent winter “pause,” I was smitten by her incredibly refreshing optimism, clarity, and groundedness. She’s as witty and candid and self-aware IRL as she is in her bestselling newsletter, How Not to F*ck Up Your Face (HNTFUYF), where she offers, in her words, “philosophical and practical advice for anyone who's ever looked into a mirror.” Val, as most everyone calls her, agreed to meet up with me in Tokyo when, improbably, we would both be there in late December. It was my first trip to Japan; Val spends close to four months in Tokyo every year (otherwise she lives in New York), in order to spend time with her son, daughter-in-law, and six-year-old granddaughter. We met for an over-the-top afternoon tea on the 39th floor of the Four Seasons, the Imperial Gardens shimmering below us.

A trim 74, she doesn’t seem to count calories (so refreshing); she dove into the assortment of strange Japanese sweets and savories with abandon, trying everything.

Val was the beauty editor at Oprah’s O Magazine for nearly 16 years, her first foray into the field of beauty in over 30 years of magazine journalism. Her goal then was to shift our thinking about beauty from self-criticism to self-compassion, which she carries through to her newsletter, where she manages to convey the both/and of growing [b]old (the blessings and the bullshit) better than almost any writer on Substack.

In her newsletter she answers readers’ questions about everything from sunscreen to plastic surgery, weaving in advice from experts and physicians. She also offers readers a tidbit or two about what’s going on in her life (a special moment with her granddaughter, for example) or what she’s thinking about (how existence and consciousness are a miracle). But for the ultimate behind-the-scenes of HNTFUYF, read on for this [b]old Q&A with Val.

Val (left) and me scraping our plates after tea in Tokyo.

DW: What is your morning ritual? Tell us everything! What time do you get up? Is it different when you’re in Tokyo vs. New York? Coffee? Makeup or any nod to fashion? If you’re in writing mode, do you write everyday?

VM: My morning ritual is basically the same in NY and Tokyo: I give thanks for a good night’s sleep; even though I rarely have one anymore, I like to pretend that I have because somehow it makes me feel less tired. Then, in bed, I do the cobra for a minute or two, and stretch my legs, and then roll into a sitting position on the side of the bed. This is notable only because I believe when I was younger I would somehow spring from a prone sleeping position to completely upright in a single movement. If I tried to do that now…well, most likely a tragic story.

Anyway, then I make green tea (from a tea bag, not fancy even though there are myriad kinds of fancy green teas here in Japan), turn on the BBC morning news podcast, and then settle down at my desk to answer emails. I respond personally to all emails sent to HNTFUYF, so this task can sometimes take a while, especially on the days when a new post drops (Tuesday morning in NY, which is Tuesday evening, 14 hours ahead, in Tokyo).

I’ll eat yogurt with a little granola and some kind of fruit…Seriously, I know you said tell us everything, but are you interested in this? I’m boring myself to death. I’ll move on, more briefly. Wash face, moisturize with combination moisturizer/sunscreen SPF 30, brush teeth, sometimes comb hair, do more stretches on the floor, and then I’ll start to work.

I collect stuff I’ve read that I think might be interesting to readers, answer those reader questions I mentioned above, send out some of them to the physicians I call on as resources to help get answers and then by mid-afternoon I go out to walk. In NYC I walk either around Central Park or up Riverside Park to Riverside Church and back—I like to get in anywhere from five to eight miles every day. I’m usually listening to something, a podcast, classical music, but I’m often also writing. I don’t nod to fashion, as I wear the same thing almost every day, which is some version of black and navy and white, comfortable ankle-length pants, tee shirt, and Onitsuka Tiger¹ sneakers. I just carry my phone and credit cards and my keys in a little pouch I bought in Tokyo; one of my goals in life is to carry as little as possible.

DW: You worked as beauty director of O, The Oprah Magazine, for a decade and a half. How did that experience influence your perspective on the beauty industry?

VM: I never thought about the beauty industry before I took that job at O. And that’s pretty much what Oprah and the genius EIC (editor-in-chief) I worked for (Amy Gross²) wanted in a beauty director. They were looking for someone who’d learn about the industry on the job, with a fresh take because they didn’t like the way women’s magazines traditionally covered beauty, by making women feel bad about themselves so they’d return month after month to learn how to be “fixed.” (In other words, playing along completely with the beauty industry’s marketing tactics.) We wanted to help women understand how the industry worked, so they could make clearer, wiser choices for themselves.

And because Oprah was the goose that laid the golden egg, we weren’t obliged to the advertising industry to the same degree other magazines were. I believe O, The Oprah Magazine was the most successful launch in magazine history. Man, what a fabulous job that was! I left because the industry changed so much that my job became a different kind of job, more beholden to advertisers, and for me that just didn’t work.

DW: What about your approach to aging naturally; where did that come from?

VM: I’m not sure what aging unnaturally is; I suppose it could mean not accepting the aging process and therefore trying to manipulate your physical self to avoid it. But my position is that whatever gets you through the night is right for you. I mean, we’re blessed with consciousness and the profound awe of our place in this mysterious universe and we come to realize pretty early on that at some point—and we don’t know when—it’s lights out for us! It’s like some kind of nasty cosmic joke! Of course we don’t like the idea of the runway shortening, which is manifested in our physical deterioration, so it makes sense that we don’t like to see that.

Show me an old person who loves what’s happening to her body and I’ll show you the magic mushrooms she just ate. Aging is a blessing, but it’s hard. You want to try to look like you haven’t aged? I say, who could blame you? Also: Good luck. Better to learn how to see yourself without objectification, to be able to see your face the way you see the faces of the people you love. Do you scan them for flaws? Hate their wrinkles? I often suggest readers try mirror meditation³, which you can read about at HNTFUYF.

DW: Your newsletter, How Not To F*uck Up Your Face, has one of my favorite titles on Substack; it’s irreverent, it’s goal-oriented, it’s how most of us really feel about aging. Are you writing for men too?

VM: There are a number of men who read my Substack; in fact one of my favorite male readers (the writer Anthony Brandt⁴) recently died. He was in his late 80s. He always had something wise and kind to say in the comments. As for the name of my newsletter, I guess it was something I thought about for myself and I thought other women might be interested in it too.

DW: Do you consider yourself ambitious? Has your ambition changed as you’ve gotten older?

VM: I’ve never thought of myself as ambitious because I never wanted to be an EIC, though many of my friends were. I have only one child (a son, now forty) and I wanted to spend as much time raising him as possible. I only went for an EIC job once, I think, and I didn’t really want it; I was pursued. But I loved all the jobs I’ve had, which kind of came to me, each one, as a gift. I’ve worked with incredibly smart and interesting people. I tried some consulting when I left O, which was lucrative, but boring, so I started writing what turned out to be HNTFUYF. There were around 200 readers at first, and now I’m closing in on 20,000, so I guess that indicates some ambition on my part.

DW: You told another interviewer that you tried, but failed to sell HNTFUYF as a book. You’ve been writing on Substack for coming up on four years; are you still thinking about a book? How has writing your Substack, with so many subscribers, satisfied you, or not?

VM: Has it really been four years? Geezus, time flies. A few editors have approached me about writing a book, but I’d rather stick needles in my eyes. I was told I’d need a social media platform to sell HNTFUYF to a publisher and I said forget it, not interested in that. And now I have a (small) following on Substack and have no interest in writing a book. (A collection of my posts, sure! But not a beauty-related book.)

I get an immediate response the moment a post drops; it’s like performing in front of a live audience and I love it (and my readers, who are intelligent, curious, thoughtful, and compassionate). I don’t think my work could be more satisfying.

DW: Looking back, what is one thing you are especially proud of?

VM: My kind, compassionate, solicitous son. Oh, and what drives me to write HNTFUYF: the idea that I’m performing a service that might be helpful to someone.

DW: What is your biggest regret when it comes to life or writing?

VM: When I was younger I didn’t take myself seriously. That was a big mistake. On the other hand, I had a fantastically fun career, which paved the way to my current, completely lovely situation.

DW: What does [b]old age mean to you?

VM: I love the idea of [b]old age. I’d like to be very [b]old and very old.

DW: Any parting words of beauty, fashion, or life advice for those of us aging into our 70s and beyond?

VM: For me, the hardest thing is trying to be present for every moment. I remember when I was raising my son, I was extremely aware of being present for him and for myself as I knew the time raising him—which was fascinating to me—would be limited. And now I feel that way about the time with my granddaughter; I want to drink her in, experience our relationship as fully as possible. Sometimes it feels as if my whole being is exploding with gratitude.

That’s how I’d like to go out: exploding with gratitude.

Val, thank you so much for your sensible, and sensitive, insights about aging and learning to love what we see in the mirror. It was so much fun meeting you in Tokyo! - Debbie

Questions for readers

• What does “aging naturally” mean to you?

• I love that Val connects our societal obsession with looking young to our collective fear of “lights out.” How do you handle seeing physical signs of aging when you look in the mirror?

• On a related note, have you tried Val’s mirror meditation?

1. Val recommended a couple of stores in Tokyo that she loves. One was Onitsuka Tiger; the other was the seven-floor Global MUJI flagship store in Ginza (where I bought a scarf matching Val’s).

2. An interview with Amy Gross on dharma.org

3. Val explains mirror meditation: “If you can learn how to look into your own eyes in the mirror and see the person who lives there, rather than scanning your face for flaws, you’ll start to feel better about yourself. You don’t love the women in your life based on what their faces look like. You love them based on who they are. And if you can give yourself that compassion, that love, you’ll begin to feel different about what you see in the mirror.” - from Ageist.com

4. Anthony Brandt’s obituary