On the wind-blown Italian island of Sardinia, the Costa Smeralda, known as a rich man's playground, offers overwhelming proof of a curious social phenomenon. Everywhere you look, crusty old antique husbands squire improbably youthful trophy wives, often trailed by the awkward, almost adult children of the first extinct marriage. Nannies wheeling the bouncing babies of marriage number two complete the motley crew. The reverse scenario is never spotted, as the First Wives Club keeps a far lower profile.
Mother Nature's Malicious Misogyny
Mother Nature is a malicious misogynist, according to Vanessa Feltz. Dumped older wives, grappling with perimenopause, cannot simply jump ship, scoop up a callow suitor, and reproduce. Wealthy old blokes go forth and multiply with any cosmetically enhanced, fertile cutie they fancy, while divorcees, even with abundant settlements, cannot pop out a brand new brood.
On behalf of her readers, Feltz thoroughly scrutinised these gnarled billionaires for signs of happiness or suffering. While she could not peer into their innermost souls, she could certainly see the exhausted, harassed, and hectored expressions on their weathered faces. When they should be frolicking merrily in Europe's most luxurious fleshpots, these chaps exude misery. They brush off their bouncing babies like tiresome mosquitoes, and their older kids are permanent painful reminders of expensive, smashed first marriages.
Trophy Wives and the Cruelest Lesson
Trophy wives are vacant, plugged into technology, with bristling boob jobs attracting too much attention from the Adonis driving the speedboat. Never has Feltz seen a more wretchedly oppressed sector of society than these privileged plutocrats. They are imbibing rare vino and feasting on fresh lobster while struggling to digest one of life's cruellest lessons: exchange an old cow for a new one, and in the blink of an eye, the new cow morphs into an old one. A novelty quickly becomes a bore.
Staving off intimations of mortality by swapping an ageing wife for a younger model is doomed to failure, making one look and feel older than ever before. As they ruefully survey their personality-bypassed wives and screaming infants, these discontented men secretly yearn for their original wives. How relaxing it would be to grow contentedly ancient side by side, share stories, history, musical taste, and parent their almost adult children together. How charming to sleep through the night without mewling kindergarteners and speak to someone capable of more than coquettish giggles. Even sparky sex is a distant memory as the trophy wife often has a headache. Buyer beware!
