The second thing reserved for youngsters is low-slung cars. When we're young, we women assume that we look like the lovely Marion Cotillard as we slide lithely out of the back seat. We don't have those legs or that hair or those shoes and our purse is a quilted diaper bag instead of a black clutch, but we have that grace! That poise!
Or at least we have the panache of the guy getting out of this car:
When I exit One's car, I look like this: