I had the good fortune to meet some people from another century, from a royal court. Mrs. and Mr. S were the definition of elegance, kindness, empathy, wisdom.
I was 20, about to leave for France when I met them. They were friends with the people who invited me to France, had travelled extensively, knew how to describe their experiences around the world with such joy, enthusiasm, stories, metaphors, comparisons to various books, that it was like going to the masters when I visited them.
She wore a perfume I loved but could never wear, it was too much for me then: Paris, by YSL. I loved being around her, she was so sophisticated, complex, smiling, benevolent, playful, elegant, discreet. He was more serious, but always benevolent, as I imagine people are for whom everyday cares, concerns or petty behavior are not notions ever worth a minute of their lives.
He was erudite, inward-looking and in love for life with her, so much so that he wrote a book in which everything revolved around her; his whole world levitated around her. I typed that book, written in pen, beautifully, in academy-worthy, Enlightenment French. I was writing and crying, there was so much love there, so much dedication, admiration, and love, that anyone would have been touched.
In fact, anyone who has ever dreamed of such love, of a private, colourful, distinguished, exotic universe, sometimes with baroque overtones, like in some Dolce&Gabbana fashion shows.
I miss them, people like them, encounters similar to those with great art.
Have you met such people?
