…so it’s time to sum up how she feels about this stage in her life. “I’m very fucking grateful to be alive,” she says fervently. “I have so many friends who are sick or gone, and I’m here. Are you kidding! No complaints!” — Vanity Fair, January 2010
I glanced up as I checked out at the supermarket and saw an interesting juxtaposition of magazine covers: Meryl Streep on Vanity Fair with the quote: “I’m 60 and I’m playing the romantic lead! Bette Davis is rolling over in her grave!” Sarah Jessica Parker is on Glamour, with the fascinating invitation to find out about her favorite jeans. Meryl looks like a million.
I am thrilled that women like Helen Mirren, Meryl Streep and Cloris Leachman represent my generation of women in the entertainment business. Sarah Jessica and Jennifer Aniston are products of our pop culture. One is perpetually Carrie Bradshaw and the other Rachel whatever, on and off the screen. Meryl Streep oozed class, sparklng talent, self assurance, humility and mystery when she was in her thirties and we always knew that she’d only get classier with each passing year.
“…Streep brings to dramatic point something that has been nosing its way to the forefront of consciousness for some time: the whole issue of a woman’s lovability…No one has more steadfastly refused to look like a dish or ask for audience identification than Meryl Streep,” says the Vanity Fair article.