Confession time: Last week, I criticized the ‘Sydney Peter Pans’ for their rampant cocaine use, arguing that they are too old to continue risking their health and relationships for a few hours of weekend ‘fun’.
The response was interesting. Yes, many women (and men) flooded my DMs to tell me I was absolutely right. I also had my fair share of abuse from misogynistic little cocaine addicts who didn’t like me pointing out that cocaine causes erectile dysfunction.
But I also remembered to look at my own backyard.
By focusing on how coke had destroyed a generation of men, I had neglected the women over 40 who are also hopelessly addicted to the drug. and there is plenty of them queuing at nightclubs with strangers every weekend while their poor husbands take care of the children at home.
It’s time to correct the record.. I will always hold my own sex (including myself) responsible, so it’s only fair that I shed light on what the other side of the fence is like.
Let’s start with a Sunday morning that, unfortunately, was not long ago. I woke up feeling that familiar dread: an emotional hangover combined with quiet sadness. My mouth tasted like the remains of last night’s dirty martinis, and I anxiously checked my text messages and Instagram to make sure I hadn’t sent or posted anything regrettable.
‘Thank God,’ I thought as everything became clear. Then the messages started arriving in a WhatsApp group created by some new brides. I felt a slightly terrible sense of relief when I realized that some of them were waking up with worse anxiety than my silly little hangover.
‘Oh, God. Last night I spent $600 on cocaine alone! wrote one of them, subtly hinting that others who had participated in their ‘party favors’ might want to contribute.
By focusing on how coke had destroyed a generation of men, I had neglected the women over 40 who are also hopelessly addicted to the drug, writes Mail+ columnist Jana Hocking.
Jana (left) was neck-deep in the Sydney party scene in the 2010s, when Instagram was new and cocktails didn’t cost $25. But many women of her generation continue to party as if they were in their 20s and 30s.
Suddenly, my $120 bar bill seemed like nothing in comparison. A hangover I could handle. A cocaine drop at my age? No, thanks. I have deadlines to meet and serotonin reserves that I’m holding on to for dear life.
It made me realize something: Many of the women I once admired—glamorous, carefree, unstoppable forces on the social scene—are still chasing the same heights they reached in their twenties. We all know a woman at a party who desperately asks if we’ve seen any guy with “a bag.” Sure, it may have been nice to flirt with a guy for a cheeky line when you were young and single, but now it seems desperate.
I don’t think it takes a genius to realize that the stakes are higher now and the consequences are etched on the faces of these women. Botox appointments are becoming more frequent, not only to fend off natural aging but to repair the wear and tear of years spent trying to keep up.
Take Fiona (name changed, of course) for example. She’s a real estate agent in her forties who swears by the “one line, one dance floor” rule she’s followed since 1999. But when I saw her at a Christmas party, I barely recognized her. The sparkle in his eyes had dimmed, his laugh sounded forced, and his famous cheekbones seemed sunken. Over a few glasses of wine, he confessed: “It’s not just once in a while anymore. I think I’ve forgotten how to have fun without it.
Then there is the alarming trend of women using cocaine as a weight loss drug instead of Ozempic. So-called “miracle” injections may be all over the headlines, but their high price and limited availability have led some women to opt for a more dangerous (and illegal) alternative.
“It reduces your appetite and gives you energy,” one woman whispered over lunch, as if sharing a life hack. But the reality is very different.
Regular cocaine use not only wreaks havoc on the body, but also creates a dependency that is difficult to escape. The irony is bitter: women are fighting for health and vitality (I blame you, Gwyneth Paltrow, and all your Goop glitter!) but they’re using a method that’s about as far from the eccentric wellness philosophy of Goop. They are destroying their bodies from the inside out. As one friend who eventually quit put it: “I wanted to look my best, but I ended up feeling worse.”
And honestly, why would we voluntarily accumulate more stress in our bodies? Being a woman in her early forties is difficult. Between PMS and the mood swings of perimenopause, we already have enough emotional chaos to deal with. Why add to that the dreaded Tuesday Blues of a ‘packed’ weekend? No, thanks.
I don’t think it takes a genius to realize that the stakes are now higher and that the consequences of weekend cocaine binges are etched on these women’s faces (file image).
Take Amelia, a divorcee in her fifties who recently re-entered the dating scene. “It’s just to keep up,” she told me over coffee, explaining that her new boyfriend’s love of “moving on” after a night of partying had caused her to pick up her long-abandoned cocaine habit.
But the price was obvious: her radiant complexion had given way to visible fatigue. And his tales of wild nights? They weren’t romantic getaways, but rather embarrassing stories of lost phones, awkward apologies to babysitters, and comedown-induced arguments.
One of the saddest revelations came from mum-of-two Claire, who admitted her ‘mum’s little helper’ wasn’t just some glass of rosé. “It started with the school fundraiser,” she confessed, “but now it’s my go-to place when I feel overwhelmed.” Temporary relief is quickly replaced by sleepless nights, anxiety, and guilt that she drags into every parent-teacher conference.
Don’t get me wrong: these women are not “bad people” or sad caricatures of their younger selves. They are successful, intelligent, loving people caught in the same cultural trap: the lure of a quick fix, a temporary euphoria to numb the stress and fear of middle age. But the price they are paying is high.
Physically, the signs are impossible to ignore. The harm of cocaine does not discriminate between genders. It steals your shine, accelerates wrinkles and leaves your body crying out for rest. (Honestly, even a single martini can do that to me these days, let alone anything stronger!) Emotionally, the cost is even worse. Relationships fray, trust erodes, and self-esteem plummets.
So why do they keep doing it? The same reasons that men have: to escape, to feel alive, to cling to the illusion of youth. But as we all know, illusions are shattered.
As I reflect on the women I once idolized for their natural charm and unwavering confidence, I can’t help but feel sadness. They deserve better. We all do it. So, maybe it’s time to say bon voyage to “that” type of bag, ladies, and invest in ones that will last. Like a Birkin. It might even work out cheaper in the long run and will definitely go better with your outfit.