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2 min read
For a long time, turning 30 has come with a set of expectations about where you should be in your life – but these measures of ‘success’ no longer make sense, writes Daisy Jones.
I had an alarming realisation the other day while eating a double cheeseburger in bed and watching another episode of The White Lotus. And that realisation was this: I am a mere two years away from being the same age as Carrie Bradshaw was in the first season of Sex And The City. Carrie Bradshaw who, at 32, lived in her own spacious apartment on the Upper East Side and divided her time between having brunch, going to fashion events and writing what looked like one very short column per month.
Obviously Sex And The City, which first aired in 1998, isn’t necessarily a realistic portrayal of what it means to be in your 30s – after all, how did Carrie even afford that apartment? Still, turning 30 has, for a long time, come with a very specific set of expectations. Those aged 30 today were raised to believe that by now you’d have your own house (hahaha), have worked your way up the “career ladder” sufficiently, be on good money and thinking about kids if you haven’t had one already. And even if you didn’t want those things, you’d at least look like you have your shit together. No damp flats and house shares. No ill-advised stick-and-poke tattoos or weird nights out.
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