Poor Dina Broadhurst. The Sydney mean girls are calling you that awful slur every woman over 50 fears. They used to say the same to me too - now I'm calling them out: AMANDA GOFF

It’s not often I feel compelled to stick up for a Double Bay socialite, but here we are.

A few weeks ago, Dina Broadhurst – yes, the one they call the ‘nude artist’ – celebrated her milestone 50th birthday at Bondi hotspot Icebergs.

According to society spies, this was followed by a house party at her boyfriend John ‘Herman’ Winning Jr.’s ‘rave cave’. (Where was my invite?)

But this column isn’t about long lunches or legendary kick-ons. It’s about the nasty whispers I’ve been hearing on the eastern suburbs grapevine and reading in catty comments sections.

And I just have to call it out.

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A few weeks ago, Dina Broadhurst celebrated her 50th birthday at Bondi hotspot Icebergs. It didn’t take long for the trolls to slither out of the woodwork with unkind remarks

As you’ll be aware, Dina is known for her skimpy outfits and for this landmark occasion, she didn’t disappoint.

Dressed in a $2,600 Miu Miu elasticated-waist mini skirt that barely covered her buttocks, a tiny crop top and white kitten heels, she looked – quite simply – stunning.

As a long-time connoisseur of the ‘pap shot’, I noted the subtle artistry of her ‘candid’ posing as she gathered her accessories – including a $12,000 pink Chanel 19 Flap Bag, a gift from Herman – and glanced over her shoulder at the camera. Chef’s kiss!

Oh, Dina – I sighed as I ate Vegemite toast in South Yarra – you really are flawless…

But instead of applauding her, as I had, the usual suspects of the eastern suburbs did what they do best: bitch and moan.

I’ve heard nasty talk of ‘attention seeking’, being ‘over-exposed’ and that slur I detest the most, and one I’ve had directed at me many times: ‘Mutton dressed as lamb’.

Wow. Jealous much, ladies?

And here’s the thing, dear readers. If you’ve ever had that particular ageist barb thrown at you, let me tell you this: laugh it off, block, and delete.

Dina is no stranger to dressing in skimpy outfits

But I know that it still hurts – I’ve been there myself. My crime? Daring to age.

When I hit my late forties – I’m 51 now – I started to notice the snide comments.

‘Isn’t that top a bit young for you?’, ‘Should you really wear that at your age?’, ‘You shouldn’t wear low-cut tops anymore.’

And how about this doozy: ‘You should get a more age-appropriate haircut.’

Age-appropriate?

Even last week, after I posted a clip of me talking on a podcast, some bloke I’d never met before wrote: ‘This is what happens when pretty girls get old.’

And I’ll admit it, rightly or wrongly, my first thought was, ‘Why didn’t I get Botox before the interview?’ Thankfully, my second thought was: ‘Get f**ked, mate’.

Frankly, I’m sick to death of women having to apologise for simply existing past 50. Why is ageing a crime that women should try to conceal?

And to the man who trolled me – newsflash: you’re ageing too, and I can guarantee I look better at 50 than you ever will.

Still, I have to admit that – for a period of time last year – I did worry that my critics (read: trolls) might have a point. So, I decided to change my style following my move from Sydney to Melbourne. New life, new look and all that.

I started to ‘dress appropriately’ – meaning more conservatively. I swapped tight tops for high collars and suffocating polo necks. Instead of leaving a few buttons undone on white shirts, I fastened them up to the neck, as if showing flesh at 50 was a sin.

I even stopped wearing heels, dropping off my four-inch Jimmy Choos at Vinnies. (I still regret that decision – although I hope some woman somewhere is enjoying them).

And do you know what? I didn’t feel empowered or dignified – at all. I didn’t feel like I commanded a room or that I was more sophisticated.

Instead, I felt invisible. I actually started to feel a bit depressed. My mental health was almost as flat as my shoes and my sparkle dimmed.

Then, as I was scrolling through Instagram one afternoon, I noticed something: other women over 50 were thriving.

Celebrities like Jackie O, 50, Sonia Kruger, 59, and Elle Macpherson – still ‘The Body’ at 61 – were all rocking minis, bikinis, sequins and stilettos, and looking great.

Even Liz Hurley still rocks skimpy swimwear at 60.

So I thought: to hell with it. Not one of these women is shrinking or playing small – and they’re certainly not listening to the mean girls, even though they cop far more trolling than the Dinas or Amandas of the world.

DailyMail+ columnist Amanda Goff went through a phase of dressing more modestly last year after the relentless commentary from trolls got under her skin

Here’s the thing that grinds my gears: when men age, they are ‘silver foxes’ or ‘more attractive than ever’ (debatable), whereas women are told to cut their hair and fade into the background.

So riddle me this, folks: why is a sexy, confident woman past 50 so terrifying?

I like feeling sexy, I work hard on my body – and spend a fortune on it – and I can wear whatever I want.

Why should I – or any other woman – ‘tone it down’ in order to appease people who most likely don’t like what they see when they look in the mirror?

And if that sort of defiance makes bitter women and insecure men uncomfortable, then that’s their problem, not mine.

Dina’s not doing anything outrageous by proudly showing off her banging body. It’s how she’s always dressed, or at least for as long as she’s been on my radar.

The only thing that’s changed is the number on her birthday cake. She was sexy at 30, sexy at 40, and yet being sexy at 50 is beyond the pale for some stuffy trolls.

The hypocrisy is staggering.

Dina, if you’re reading this: you look stunning. And not stunning for ‘your age’ – just stunning, full stop. And you can wear whatever you damn well please.

Here’s my parting message to the mean girls of the east – and to the men who secretly lust after the Dinas of the world while tearing them down with sexist slurs:

This isn’t about Dina, me, or any other woman born in the ’70s. This is about you and your insecurities. And nothing ages you faster than bitterness and spite.