I’ve been told over the years that I could do with a little more vanity, but, for the life of me, I just don’t see the point. I wish I could say that my lack of vanity comes from some deep self-satisfaction with my appearance, some supernatural Devil May Care attitude, but this glaring absence really stems from laziness and disinterest, pure and simple. Life is teeming with things I’d rather do than blowdry my hair, and most of these things simply don’t lend themselves to a pulled-together façade—I don’t ever think twice about shoving a perfectly blown out coif under a bike helmet. The effortless look so many desire requires an enormous amount of effort, and with only so much time and energy in the day,  I just can’t seem to muster the needed devotion or enthusiasm to tend to my physical appearance. And I don’t think devotion is too strong a word—the maintenance required to keep wrinkles at bay, hair straight and blonde, and the face properly accentuated, is mind-boggling. There are actual schedules to keep in these endeavors and I just don’t have any room on my calendar. It’s all I can do to get my oil changed twice a year, never mind covering up my roots every four weeks.

I’ve never given my lack of vanity much thought—until now. Six weeks ago I moved to what is arguably Ground Zero for vanity—the Los Angeles area, more specifically, Malibu—and I find myself trying to figure out how to keep up, even on some minimal level. But it’s impossible. I honestly can’t tell if people are eight or 80 around here. It really is rather impressive; which makes it rather difficult to figure out where to begin.

I’ve learned of dozens of tricks women use to turn back time—from Botox to diamond facials (seriously, actual diamonds), and from $5,000 lotions to wellness shots, every other storefront offers some magical path to Neverland, and they all come with hefty pricetags.

So, I am compromising, figuring I am just too late to the game to really give anti-aging any great effort. I purchased a $40 face cream (which is approximately $34 more than I usually spend) and lots of sunscreen. I even occasionally indulge in a wellness shot or a pedicure. But my patience, interest and wallet preclude much else and I willingly concede defeat in this arena. Aging among the ageless will keep me on my toes and I find myself becoming a little more critical of my appearance. But then I grab my bike or my dogs and head to the beach or the Santa Monica Hills for a romp. The dolphins and squirrels could care less what I look like.