Mick Jagger celebrates 77 years this year. 77 years is a few, is it a lot? We are now used to considering them age like another. There are those who get married, those who start a new job, those who start a political career. In Europe, where it is among the highest in the world, the average lifespan is 76.4 years for men and 82 for women.
Rock stars are usually bright comets passing by and igniting. But if they are over 40, they become indestructible. One for all: Mick Jagger.
My kids hardly know who he is, as much as they love “Paint it black”. But the average age of Italians is high, a third of the population is over 60 and only 8 million are young people. And therefore, a third of Italians know very well who Mick Jagger is and a not insignificant part continues to venerate him.
Having founded the Rolling Stones is no small feat. Having inflamed the chronicles of transgression for twenty years, too. But rock stars also age. So, here is the ex-boyfriend of the tongue and unbridled sex who proposes himself on Instagram while stroking the cat.
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It seems he does it in Sicily, a magnificent land where he has been around for a year now. Between cathedrals and beaches, restaurants where he signs the mènu and elderly ladies with titled husbands who try to invite him to dinner, and patience for Covid.
Back when he was still (almost) Mick Jagger, that is, he was about 50 and older, Mick Jagger came to Maremma to the wedding of a dear and young friend. He came comme il faut, that is, without fanfare. And none of the guests were notified of his presence. I happened to go to the buffet, accidentally hit my forearm. I apologized, of course. And when the owner of the same forearm turned, I was faced with a smile on a face full of wrinkles. I had the impression of knowing him. But how many times does this happen to you at weddings? So I didn’t think much about it and went back to my table. Where, shortly after, a lively friend brought us the fragrant news: do you know that Mick Jagger is there too?
That’s who he was, I thought. And then and there I was stunned. Being someone who as a child, without being able to dance to them, had loved the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and all that big boys could do, lucky them.
And immediately afterward I thought How he got old, that is again a banal phrase that we tend to apply often to casual and late encounters.