They are no longer young.

They saw middle age receding in their rear view mirror many years ago.

They are an army of old ladies.

Their hair is silver and perfectly coiffeured. Their manicured finger and toe nails range in shades from subtle mauves to pearly pinks. Their eyebrows are plucked. Their crinkled skin is delicately powdered, with a hint of blush. Their lipstick is subtle.

Shaky hands and arthritic fingers have made eyeliner and mascara a thing of the past.

Their clothes are always perfect. Each one of them has her own style. Tailored or elegant. Casual or suitable for a cruise.

Their blouses are crisply ironed. Their slacks are perfectly creased.

Their great granddaughters wear clunky, orthopedic looking shoes. But they, on sometimes swollen feet, wear feminine, pretty, girlish heels.

They are not just old ladies. They are the women who turned the heads of soldiers, sailors, and airmen during World War II – all those years ago.