Playfully, they refuse to give us the wisdom we have come to expect from the aged and experienced, lest we brush them off. The two women are having a blast: gabbing chatting laughing with one another, and looking their most outrageous. They are play-acting, “on vacation.” There is no escaping the studio lights but the women seem unabashed, unafraid—they stare out at us from behind sunglasses that seem impossibly retro, confusingly hip: the language of ironic vacation fashion. The language of wealth. The images are seductive in their harshness, the clarity of the focus and the sheer amount of information that has been crammed into each image file, granting us a new type of vision—a new way to see sunscreen as we have never really seen it before. Light in all its revelatory ways, is in fact daring us to really look. There is no shelter in shadows. The women wear things that I want to wear—they wear things I hope I never wear. They are old-Hollywood-meets-pop-art-meets-high-fashion so high it is lowbrow: Tommy Bahama meets Fauvist sentiments. High becomes low and low becomes high and was it the chicken or the egg? Unreal colour palettes. Delicate eyebrows below silvery coiffures. Are these women snowbirds in Miami or hens braving the waters of Lake Huron in late summer? Never mind, they are having fun and their friendship is what is important to them: not the voyeuristic gaze of the young and the stylish.