A new kind of quinceañera celebration — for Mexico's elderly

Mexico City, Mexico – It was the eve of Lupita Rivera’s 84th birthday, but she had chosen instead to go back in time and celebrate her 15th.

Hard of hearing and reliant on a wheelchair most of the time, Rivera was decked out in a bronze-coloured ballgown, sparkly nail polish and baby pink lipstick as she attended her "Quinceañera de Oro", a twist on a centuries-old coming-of-age tradition in Mexico.

Normally, a quinceañera party is held on a girl’s 15th birthday, to mark her entry into adulthood. But the organisers behind the annual “Quinceañera de Oro” event want to offer the opulence of a quinceañera to elderly, blue-collar women who never had the opportunity to participate.

Rivera, for instance, grew up on a ranch in the southern state of Oaxaca. She remembers watching as the girls from town held quinceañera bashes, complete with traditional folk dances. It was a custom her rural family did not subscribe to, nor could afford.

“I made little sacrifices, lots of little sacrifices, and worked and worked, and then when I was able to give my own daughters quinceañera parties, I felt enormous pride,” Rivera said. “Now I can’t believe I’m here doing it myself.”

Husband-wife team Osbaldo Jimenez and Kathie Maximo created the event for women like her.

The concept was born in 2016, when Jimenez decided to throw his elderly mother a quinceañera after she expressed regret for never having taken part in one as a teenager.

It was a spark of inspiration for the couple, who work at the organisation Un Sueño Cumplido, which assists older people from the working-class neighbourhood of Iztapalapa on the edge of Mexico City.

“I started to wonder, why do we give more to the young than to the old?” Maximo said. She and Jimenez set out to help more women live out their childhood dreams.

Since then, they have held six yearly events, allowing more than 150 women ages 65 and up to twirl across the dance floor, bouquets in hand, to a traditional quinceañera waltz.

Many hail from rural households or large families that were unable to shoulder the costs associated with the coming-of-age tradition.

Today, quinceañeras form the basis of a huge industry that extends beyond Mexico to its diaspora as well. One expert told Forbes magazine in 2019 that she estimated the global market for quinceañeras was worth $49bn.

The costs for a single event can add up, from renting out an event space to catering and limousine rides. Then there are the quintessential cupcake-style dresses the teenage girls wear. The cheapest are priced at around $175, close to the average monthly salary in Mexico City.

Altogether, the total price tag for a modern quinceañera can rival that of a wedding. Some parents make monthly payments towards dresses and venues well in advance, and members of a girl’s extended family are often expected to chip in.

But the organisers behind the "Quinceañera de Oro" and similar events draw from older quinceañera traditions, similar to what their patrons would remember from their childhoods.

Traditionally, many quinceañeras have included a Catholic mass, overseen by a priest, and a ceremony to mark the transition into womanhood. And then there’s the community aspect, Maximo explained.

“We were offered a ballroom to use for free but I said no, the party would lose its essence. It needs to be in the street like they always used to be,” she said.

The latest "Quinceañera de Oro", held in November, was redolent with that sense of nostalgia.

Singers in cowboy hats crooned romantic ballads, while bow-tied escorts — the sons and grandsons of the participants — stood ready to whisk the women onto the dance floor for the traditional waltz.

It all took place under a tent in a Mexico City alleyway with plastic chairs and tables, which held giant sheet cakes decorated with flowers shaped from pink frosting.

Many of the women were eager for the opportunity to dance, even if it required the use of a cane. “You can see it in their faces: They just come alive again,” said Maximo.

She explained that — like a traditional quinceañera — the "Quinceañera de Oro" is fundamentally a reintroduction to the community: a chance for women to be embraced by society at a new stage of life. And that, she said, is something the women need more than ever.

Many feel invisible, relegated to caretaking roles. Others have been widowed or live far away from their family. Maximo indicated that the event can help combat some of that isolation, providing an occasion to reconnect with loved ones and friends.

“What we’re looking to accomplish is a reintegration of older women into their families, so they are not abandoned,” Maximo said. “It’s similar to the reintroduction that a traditional quineañera at 15 years old is meant to represent, but this period of life is more difficult.”

The "Quinceañera de Oro", she added, is powered entirely by donations. Sponsors include one of Mexico’s largest pharmacies, a local television station and a city politician.

Over the years, Maximo said hundreds of people have contributed donations and other forms of help — “grains of sand” that have created a neighbourhood tradition.

However, while quinceañeras remain popular, some young people are rejecting the tradition due to its patriarchal overtones and high costs.

“Even my own daughters decided not to [have a quinceañera],” said Martha Ruiz, the owner of a dress shop in Mexico City’s Lagunilla market, a classic destination to shop for fluffy, bejewelled gowns.

But 74-year-old Genoveva Rivera, one of the 17 participants in this year’s Quinceañera de Oro, finds the younger generations inspirational.

“When I was young I was very modest, obstinate, afraid of bad people and pregnancy. But the girls now, they’re divine, so liberal and open,” she said.

Genoveva never had a quinceañera when she was 15. She was too busy working as a nanny to other families in her neighbourhood, a job that helped her feed her younger siblings. But she had dreams of holding a party of her own.

“For my quinceañera, I wanted to come out on a balcony like a princess, and everyone would be standing below,” she said.

Now a great-grandmother to four young children, Genoveva said she is excited to live in the moment. She arrived at the "Quinceañera de Oro" dressed in a hot pink ballgown with a matching bouquet of tulips.

“I’m not reliving my youth at this party — I don’t remember most of my youth. I’m enjoying old age, the best era of life to celebrate,” she explained.

Even the priest who gave the mass at the beginning of the event, Daniel Monreal, seemed to prefer the "Quinceañera de Oro" to its traditional, teenage equivalent. “I like this better — you all actually pay attention.”