Brooke Shields feels more “confident” than ever after turning 60

Brooke Shields she spent most of her life pleasantly. As a minor, she smiled politely when reporters asked if she felt oversexualized and exploited in movies like in 1978. Nice kid and her instantly iconic Calvin Klein ads two years later. She was the obedient daughter of her mother and manager, Terrywhose alcoholism made their close bond indescribably complicated. When they followed her to Princeton University in 1985, she smiled for the cameras and was asked (as if it was their business) if she was a virgin. Young Brooke Shields was a master at standing out and being sweet.

As she grew up, she still shone, but used her voice more defiantly – most memorably in 2005 New York Times op-ed response to Tom Cruise‘with an attack on her use of antidepressants during postpartum depression after the birth of her first daughter, Rowan. She performed her comedic chops in four seasons of her NBC sitcom, Suddenly Susanand several Broadway shows. She released two New York Times best selling memory.

Then she had the courage to do something (apparently) unexpected: She kept aging. Although her confidence and joy have grown as she’s aged – she’ll turn 60 this spring – she writes in her new book: Brooke Shields must not age: Thoughts on aging as a woman (on sale Tuesday, January 14), “I began to notice that external perceptions did not seem to align with my internal sense of self. My field no longer received me with the enthusiasm I expected. The vibe from the casting agents and producers, but also my fans, was more: You need to stop time… and maybe turn it back.”

To borrow a phrase from her book, f— it. Frustrated by being “overlooked at the exact moment I felt in my prime,” she writes, she added a new entry to her resume in 2024: founder and CEO of Commence, an online community and hair care brand for women over 40 years.

“The more I’m expected to be invisible, make no demands, or disappear so I can be frozen in time as a specific (read: younger) version of Brooke Shields,” she writes, “the more fully I intend to. stand tall and take my place as the woman that I am now.” The star once known as America’s sweetheart speaks Our about stepping into her power.

The book opens with you and your daughters, Rowan, now 21, and Grier, 18, walking down the street and realizing that people are staring at them, not at you. Communicate Our about it.

The conflicts we feel – they all hit you at once. There’s this protection, this pride and joy, and then it’s a reflection of what you’re not technically anymore. And I’m not saying it’s envy or jealousy, but it’s restructuring: They start their journey when you reach a level that is hopefully (more) happy and peaceful, but comes with a lot of unpleasant feelings.

It’s the perfect setup for something you write later in the book: “When men stop noticing you, that’s a pretty good indicator of how the world in general will treat you.”

I think anyone who has a daughter in particular can relate to, Oh my God, I’m not that anymore. What is my value now?

You talk about learning to use invisibility to your advantage – letting people underestimate you and then taking advantage of it.

As long as you don’t get mad at it and find a way to use it, it’s a tool. It’s funny, my girls are fair about these things, “How could you say that, Mom?” I’ll say, “My ego has no problem playing this game. I’m weakening my opponent into thinking I’m incompetent.” I’ve found that to be a source of some power and strength.

I used to apologize or start with “I’m probably wrong, but…” or “Do you think it’s possible…?” I no longer have to come across as weak. And then I don’t have to end it with, “But you know better.”

How did you learn to navigate these conversations?

You can defer and be respectful. I often say, “This is your area of ​​expertise, and I don’t pretend to know a percentage of what you do, but in my opinion…” Then I’m kind of on the same level, and I don’t feel like I have to shrink myself to express something, while I think that I used to be afraid to have an opinion.

Many women are more comfortable and confident in their 40s and 50s. Why is there such a perception that middle-aged women are completely miserable?

Because they told us we were unhappy. And if you even look at the nature of the ads, it’s always like, “Do you have dry skin? are you this Womp-womp.” That’s the story, and the cosmetic company, pharmaceutical or whatever, they come in and solve all your problems for you. Because if you’re happy, well, what if you don’t need their dry skin cream? So it’s this whole conspiracy, which we fed.

That is absolutely correct.

Yes, (aging) has its downsides, but we’re not chasing something (anymore): to have children by this age, to get married, to finish college. There are so many decades of just trying to get to the next stage. And then there is a shift.

She notes that once the pressure is off, older women are able to be themselves: “We can push boundaries as we navigate the world without the watchful eyes of, well, everyone.”

It doesn’t mean I’m less ambitious. If anything, I’m probably more ambitious because I feel I deserve it more. I’m still scared. I’m still nervous, I’m not good enough. I still have to push myself to get through, (but) we’re becoming unmissable. We’re pretty formidable and I think it scares everyone a little bit.

It takes a different kind of strength to allow yourself to say no to grace—for example, you turned down an invitation to perform alongside Broadway powerhouses Cynthia Erivo and Susan Boyle in Britain has talent. How do you decide when to say no to what seems—at least to everyone else—like a great opportunity?

There’s a sense of healthy humility, (why) why would you want to do that to yourself? It’s not, I’m “less than” as a human, but there’s no way my abilities can match theirs. I used to think that if I was good enough, I would go and at least hold my own, and that would be a feat in itself. But you have to say, “I don’t want that feeling in my stomach that I would undoubtedly feel.”

First you devote a chapter to becoming an empty nester, then both of your daughters go to Wake Forest University in North Carolina. “My girls have a lot of skills that I never had,” you write. Have you worked to wean them away from habits you don’t like about yourself, like people pleasing?

I have one who is very people-pleasing and I have a younger one who is all about right and wrong and doesn’t care what people think. She is very strong in her opinions. Even her reaction – I’ll say, “Aren’t you embarrassed?” And she’s like, “No. No, I’m not.” And she’s 18, maybe she’ll feel differently. My older one really stepped on it, and I don’t know if it’s age, birth (order), whatever — we’re the most alike, in our approach to life and our actions.

I am so proud that I have made space for them to contradict me, express their feelings and not be afraid of being judged. And being okay with disagreeing with them. They just have different ways of expressing it to me.

One thing that is so specific about you is how much of your life has been documented. What’s it like to look back and see the girl you once were under so much scrutiny?

I have such empathy. My heart just kind of breaks for her and her desperate, desperate need to protect her mom and take care of everything. It felt like it was exactly what I wanted to do.

And today?

I see myself now (at Commence HQ) and I never wanted to be in that position. I think about the Zoom I had this morning with one of our investors and how clear I was about it; and how I was in therapy an hour before; and how I navigate my children; and how I help my husband with something; and you just see all the different spokes of a woman’s wheel, you know? There is pride because I don’t give as – if someone doesn’t like me anymore. I mean, yeah, it hurts a little bit, but I’m sitting there thinking, I don’t even know if I respect you, so why should I be so worried that you like me?