This piece was written by one of our dear readers—a woman with something real to say. Each month, we handpick the best submissions for Dear Reader because we’re after that PROVOKED bite: truth, intelligence, and heart. These stories come from women our age—women who’ve lived enough to know better and still care enough to tell it anyway. Because being seen and heard matters. Because storytelling is how we stitch ourselves to one another. And because when one woman speaks her truth, another finally recognizes her own. — Susan Dabbar, Editor-in-Chief
A trip to Paris revealed how little the world is built for aging women.
The tub was 2.5 feet high. Clearly, nobody who designed that bathroom had pictured my mother. She was well below 5 feet tall. In a fully booked Paris hotel, this wasn’t an inconvenience—it was a locked door. She couldn’t get in without assistance; not because she was frail or confused, but because whoever designed that bathroom hadn’t designed it for her. Had not, it turns out, designed much of anything for her.
My mother was 88. She’d waited years for this trip—first through the long years of caring for my father and then through the pandemic that delayed the trip further. She wanted to return to the city she loved while she could. Neither her old left shoulder injury nor the right finger she fractured on the way to the airport would stand in her way. I handled the logistics and travel plans, all fully refundable and designed for easy travel. I thought I was giving my mother a gift by taking her to Paris. Instead, she gave me a wake-up call—the physical world, it turned out, had not been built for her.
And maybe not for the future me.
The Body Changes. The World Doesn’t.
She once claimed 5-foot-2 on a good day, but by the time we reached Paris, she was closer to 4-foot-10—roughly the height of an 11-year-old—and a physical reminder of the years gone by. This isn’t unusual. Women lose height faster than men as they age: Declining estrogen in menopause accelerates bone density loss; spinal compression and gravity do the rest. In other words, the female body keeps shrinking. But the problem isn’t that women lose height. It’s that the world declines to come down with them.
It stays exactly where it is—unchanged.
We left the tub room for one with a walk-in shower, but the elevated handles on the heavy door meant she couldn’t go in or out alone. Because the light switch was higher than she could comfortably maneuver, the room would be dark without help. The towel rack and mirror were out of her reach, the closet clothing rod rose above her grasp, and the espresso machine perched on a shelf was set above her height. The main element of the room—the bed—sat so high she couldn’t get into it without assistance.
Maybe a woman her age is expected to share a room.
Or she wasn’t expected to be there at all.
A City Out of Reach
The fifth-floor room provided a view, but she couldn’t put the room key in the elevator card reader. Or reach the button. Lacking handrails, she felt unsteady going up and down. To the front desk and bellman, she was barely a tuft of gray hair as she waited for assistance and stretched to peer over the counter.
The tour bus to Giverny, Monet’s home, featured a staircase with foot-high risers. She needed a boost, and the driver and guide impatiently smoked a cigarette. We skipped the trip to the scenic upper deck, and when we reached the gardens, she was scolded for moving too slowly.
She was welcome to visit. Just not at her own pace.
The Paris Metro? Forget it. Too many old stations with uneven, sometimes slippery, steps and no elevator option. Even as Paris works to meet standards of accessibility for the disabled, many stations remain inaccessible for wheelchairs and other mobility devices. When Paris hosted the 2024 Olympics and Paralympics, only 25% of rail stations accommodated wheelchairs.
They do get the attention though. A wheelchair-bound father and his adult daughter at our hotel, relegated to the handicap accessible rooms on the ground floor, were catered to by staff, perhaps with greased wheels. My walking mother was invisible. Ambulatory and short, she fell between the standard world and the accessible one.
To get around, we walked. Miles, in fact. And Uber-ed. Together. The pace of the city with its charming, narrow, cobblestone streets can challenge a slow wobbly walker. Crowds parted for no one, least of all a small slow woman making her way through them.
Public restrooms offered no relief. Heavy doors, stiff latches, high hooks, elevated mirrors—all barriers to entry. And privacy. She had no ability to put on lipstick or fix her hair, as though it no longer mattered, even though it did. For the most personal moments, Paris expected my mother to never be alone.
The Architecture of Exclusion
Paris didn’t just happen to be hard for my mother. The problems she faced stem from decades, if not centuries, of design and accessibility decisions. It isn’t malice so much as indifference. Being vertically challenged isn’t a disability; designing for taller, younger people is a choice. Unless wheelchair bound, our hotel didn’t envision my mother at all, just as it couldn’t see her over the counter. The in-room fixtures fostered dependence, reducing a capable woman to a child—by design.
In 15 years, she’d gone from a welcomed, autonomous tourist—part of a couple boosting the French economy—to invisible, even to herself. The world had quietly revised its assumptions about her: She was no longer expected to travel, to desire beauty, to occupy luxury, to need dignity in public and private spaces. She’d stopped caring about how she appeared in a mirror she could no longer reach. She no longer required privacy, autonomy, or the simple pleasure of an espresso she made herself.
But Paris didn’t fail my mother. It revealed itself. Its rooms, sidewalks, and counters made visible what the rest of the world hides more politely: that design decides who gets to move freely, who gets to see themselves reflected, who gets to belong.
The farewell kiss came at Orly Airport. Mom’s reconstructed shoulder set off alarms. The lump on her shoulder triggered another alert. Security officers murmured in agitated French among themselves, barely glancing at the small woman before them, and tried to insist she remove the compression socks ordered by her physician.
She didn’t.
31 Responses
You’ve touched a nerve, Maura! This is my life as healthy, active 5 foot tall woman. Nothing is, or has ever, been built for me. Each week I literally climb grocery shelves to get products. My feet dangle on airplane seats and in most restaurants, just as they did when I was a child school in grade school sitting at a desk. Speaking of airplanes, I have to stand on my seat to get something into and out of the overhead compartment if I don’t choose to ask for help. Most often I travel with a bag that fits under my seat – it’s less embarrassing, gives me more autonomy, and doubles as a foot rest since my feet dangle. By the way, that same bag with the “standard” pull handle….. much too tall for me and not ergonomically correct for my height. Getting into an SUV requires upper arm strength. Reaching hangers in a standard closet is always a challenge. While most women will not feel this frustration until their 80’s, this has been my entire life. Many times I’ve complained that this world is built by, and for, the average man, let alone the average woman. Kudos to your mom for braving the travel, and to you for giving her such a beautiful opportunity.
Thank you Linda for this thoughtful and elaborate comments. You’re right that much of what mom experienced applies to anyone vertically challenged. Age-related limitations made it harder.
Thanks for sharing, Maura. It’s the little details that are so important to make someone feel comfortable. Whether it’s a handrail, stairway, or shower, designers need to consider who’s using the space. And not just thing about the aesthetics.
Loved this article, Maura. I can totally see how Paris, despite is great beauty, is absolutely not built to be ADA compliant in any way shape or form. While I was reading this I was thinking about how in general the world is built for large men. There wasn’t even an anatomically correct female crash test dummy being used by car manufacturers until 2025 (they aren’t even required to be implemented until 2028). And, absolutely nothing is designed with kids in mind. Getting them through a public bathroom is a total nightmare for example. I saw a little stepstool built into a sink at Target the other day while I was with my toddler son and I nearly cried with relief.
So well-written, illuminating, and relatable, Maura! My parents are 90 & 92 and still travelling to Europe and elsewhere. I’ve been with them on many of their travels lately and to say it’s been nerve-wracking is an understatement! Nonetheless, major kudos to you for planning that trip to Paris with your mom! So special!
This is a beautiful, and also frustrating piece. The image of your 88 year-old mom waiting for this dream trip, only to be met with so many obstacles is terrible. It’s something I’ve not considered before, but now won’t be able to un-see when I travel. Thanks for sharing.
Beautifully written Maura! I just finished a multi generational vacation in Paris and Provence to celebrate my mom’s upcoming 90th birthday. We experienced many challenges as she is mobility impaired. But with many hands in or group, we made it work. But as you, said it was an eye opener for sure.
“In 15 years, she’d gone from a welcomed, autonomous tourist—part of a couple boosting the French economy—to invisible, even to herself.” I had to stop there. That’s not just what Paris did to her—that’s what the accumulation of a thousand small exclusions does. It’s not one bad trip. It’s a slow revision of what a woman is allowed to expect for herself. Can’t help but wonder if an older many would experience the same;
That airport scene. I keep coming back to it. So many of us have hip and knee replacements at ages well younger than 88—are we all supposed to expect that kind of scrutiny? Or is it specifically because she’s older, and security simply didn’t expect a woman her age to be traveling at all? The compression socks detail is what got me. Physician-ordered. And they still pushed.
Wow! Very powerful and beautifully written. I’m 4’11 and encounter challenges with the hotel mirrors. I imagine the older I get the more challenges I’ll encounter like your mom. But glad she had a good time!
Love your bio! I want to read your other writings!
thank you Pat. My motherhood musings and wisdom are at westchestercountymom.com, handbag pieces at pursebop.com where I am the editor (but I don’t always use a byline), and on my the balance dilemma podcast substack https://substack.com/@thebalancedilemmapodcast/note/p-198752619?r=1nkrk3&utm_source=notes-share-action&utm_medium=web
This is so gorgeously written! Thank you 🩷
Maura you articulated what I have experienced with my aging parents perfectly – the truth. The world doesn’t make room for our elders. They don’t respect the wisdom they have amassed over a lifetime. I fear for us in 20 years. The pace of the world keeps increasing, and even exponentially faster in tech. Will we be able to keep up M? Beautifully written and expressed as always.
Maura, you’ve captured so well the challenges and tribulations of traveling as we all age. I lived these with my own parents and just now, in the last week, was in Roman hotel for our last night before flying home, and it, too, had a bathtub that was as deep as a Japanese soaking tub. Scary. Oddly enough, that hotel is all newly restored and that sort of tub was chosen recently. Why, oh why? You speak truth and I hope are heard far and wide.
I love this article, it’s so well-written and your mother’s comments were so touching. I’m short so I get this and see my future. In my work providing sophisticated companions to seniors, I’ve had a number of clients say to me, I need a helper who’s tall and can reach stuff around my house. Hopefully oublic spaces will soon get the message.
Great article…so well written.
But how disappointing/challenging for your Mom. Did she have a good time regardless??🤔🙏
she had a wonderful time – but it was eye-opening for both of us
This is my future as a “ once claimed 5-foot-2 on a good day,” person. This article really makes me think about traveling more over the next decade as I approach 65. I love the way the author brings me along with her mom on their trip to Paris. Viva la cobblestones.
Maura, what a wonderfully written and insightful article.
In your words, I could feel your mother‘s frustration.
Great article! As a relatively short person who has begun the process of shrinking, I appreciate the heads up about some of the trials I’m likely to face, especially when visiting Paris! Im thinking heel lifts and a traveling companion!
Muara, you write outrage with a light touch. Wonderful piece giving those of us who are slouching toward old age a view of what’s to come. Wouldn’t it be great if seniors gave architects/builders their input before a space is built or renewed. Back in the day, all I thought about when I went to Paris many times was its glamour. The next time, I’m going to have to assess all the features that challenge us. Bravo for writing such a powerful and thoughtful essay, and you should be given the daughter of the month for all the care and love you gave to your dear mother.
Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion are required in the world to benefit everyone. Reading your words I could see your mothers’ chagrin and thought of the simple solutions to accessibility that actually exist. All modern, tourist dollar dependent countries are going to lose the dollars from the large communities of physically challenged people who want to travel to see their sights, eat their foods, sleep in their hotels, travel their transportation systems, etc. because they are not accommodated.
Hoping you wrote them a letter detailing the improvements they can make to enhance a travelers stay.
I’ve been short my entire life … never more than 4’11” and now at age 66, closer to 4’10”.
You highlight the travel challenges at your destination , all of which I’ve faced, but let’s not forget the trip to get there …as light as I pack, it’s very difficult if not impossible for me to put my bag in the overhead compartment… without the kindness of strangers.
And what about the daily indignities? Can’t reach anything on the top shelf of the grocery store , can’t get on or off facial or waxing table without step stool, can’t reach the blouse I want to try on in the store bec it’s on high rack, need to sit on cushion to get hair washed at salon … all things that are just part of life as a height challenged person!
Yes, my daughter, You told it as it was! We were basically on our own. Everything requiring second thoughts; actions and moments no longer taken for granted, in this city, and perhaps in the rest of that country, not so current in accommodating an aging population, although somehow everyone has a phone. But despite all the issues, your aging shrinking mother is ever grateful for your caring, concern and willingness to take on this experience, knowing that she would enjoy it, no matter what. Thank you, and P.S. I renewed my passport!
Awesome!! The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree 😍
Thanks mom. It was eye-opening in many ways – but I’m so glad we did it.
I love your writing, I’m going to now search what else you’ve written. Thank you!
Sincerely,
Annmarie
tysm!
Holy shit Batman. I was just thinking the same things that you wrote about so well about here! I have become more disabled through shrinkage and skeletal failures lately at the ripe old age of 68. Hate it! But what I’ve found that unnecessary introduces more of a challenge is that the world is becoming less, not more, accommodating for us. When I was caregiver for my 5’2 height mom, it was even problematic to not have a seat belt that rode up around her neck…speaking of, will someone please make a car for just short women? All my life, the headrests are a foot above me, and the ‘ lumbar support ‘ is not supposed to be at my shoulder blades y’all, but it always is. It all fits fine for my husband and tall friends. Sigh. I buy boosters and loose lumbar pillows. Did you know that the most common height for women is 5’3? Come on…can we please get on the radar for seating that just doesn’t do leg length?
Loved the message that you saw so clearly for the marginalized needs of us who don’t fit in with the clamorous majority.
Love the voice of this piece and the small truths it reveals; the everyday difficulties of a diminutive 88 year old just trying to have her trip to Paris. Nice writing, Maura!