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All of a sudden, I was forced to consider what else I couldbring to the table besides my looks. I returned to Milan – withno experience and no way of making a living besides my bonestructure, which was losing its currency. It was around thatpoint that I realised beauty is a nuisance. It tricks you intofighting an uphill battle against the march of time. Whocares if you have wrinkles? Your responsibility is to dosomething with the life that you were given – and if that lifeis reflected in the lines of your face, so much the better.After that epiphany, I began teaching fashion anthropologyat the Polytechnic Institute of Milan. The clothes that I hadworn in Vogue took on fresh significance – and provoked amillion questions. Why do girls have countless outfits andboys only a handful? What does that tell us about ourrespective positions in society? Who decides what is beautifuland why? For the first time, I dared to ask myself what Ibelieved in politically. I became a Marxist and feminist,speaking publicly about gender equality.Many years have passed since I came back to Milan. I haveraised four children and made a name for myself as a politicalactivist and writer. This year, I will celebrate my 75th birthday.When I look in the mirror, I feel a strange affection for theold lady staring back at me – which I never did for the girllooking out from the cover of Vogue. The wrinkled face withits mane of grey hair looks like somebody real, authentic,who has a true sense of who she is and has really lived – ratherthan somebody who spends time worrying over whether ornot her eyelashes are curled.The truth is, it’s only when you stop worrying aboutbecoming “invisible” that you are able to see yourself. Thenyou are free. Free to decide what matters to you and whatnever will, whose opinions you value and whose you candisregard, and what exactly is worth your precious hours onthis earth and what is a waste of damn time. And really,what could be more beautiful than that? Q``````Barzini on the coverof Italian Vogue:from top, February1966; November1965; October 1968INTERVIEW BY HAYLEY MAITLAND. HENRY CLARKE; IRVING PENN; GIAN PAOLO BARBIERI; GETTYBenedetta Barziniphotographed byHenry Clarke forVogue, November1967. Right: on thecatwalk at AntonioMarras a/w ’15Let’s get this out of the way: I am no longer beautiful- and it has been one of the great blessings ofmy life. I was just 20 years old when I was discovered onthe streets of Rome by Consuelo Crespi, the editor of ItalianVogue. It was 1963 and I was painfully thin, with dark eyesand a mole stamped on my right cheek. Somebody sentphotographs of me to Diana Vreeland in New York, and afew days later, I received a telegram: would I come toManhattan to model for a shoot in American Vogue? At thatpoint, I was so young and insecure that I would have cleanedthe Condé Nast offices on Madison Avenue if somebody hadtold me to. I hopped on the next flight.I went to New York for 10 days – and stayed for five years.I signed with Ford Models and was catapulted into a strangeand glamorous world, where I held stiff poses under theatricallights, draped in silk kimonos and fur coats. There’s no denyingthat it was an extraordinary time to be in Manhattan. I wasphotographed by Irving Penn and Richard Avedon andbecame a wallflower at Andy Warhol’s Factory. I was one ofthe “ravishing little things” at Truman Capote’s Black andWhite Ball. I was invited to dinner with the Kennedys simplyfor being beautiful, where I sat between Mike Nichols, BobKennedy and Leonard Bernstein – and never said a word.That was the thing: I never really felt like an activeparticipant in my own life in New York, merely a witness tothe spectacle. In those days, the job of a model was to be apretty face – no more, no less – and there were many girls inmy orbit who lived purely to be seen, whether on set or off.Of course, eventually the phone stopped ringing withoffers of modelling gigs. I remember going to a meetingwith Eileen Ford in her midtown office when I was beingshot less and less. I was 25. She shrugged and said to me,“Come to my parties. Marry a rich American instead. Youcan divorce him after a couple of years if it all goes to hell.”On beautyAs she reaches her mid-seventies, formermodel Benedetta Barzini says the onset ofage isn’t a curse – it’s a liberationVIEWPOINT