I hadn’t even heard that Brideshead Revisited was being remade into a feature film until three days ago. I’m just that out of the loop. So tonight, I went to the movie theatre with girlfriend and remembered dreams that had long since been packed away with my Lady Diana scrapbook. (She was not a princess yet when I fell in love with her.)
I looked up at that screen, at the women in their diamonds, and thought, They didn’t know. They were completely innocent of any pain their jewelry may have caused. Once I didn’t know. I wish I could go back to that happy state of not knowing.
It’s not that I really want to go back to being 12 years old again. But tonight, hearing the dialogue between Sebastian and Charles brought me right back to the old living room on Phillips Drive. Watching Brideshead in 1982 was the first time I claimed a vision for my future, for my identity, that felt all my own. I wanted to wear those dresses, and sit in those rooms, and walk in those gardens, and play chess, and talk all day. I wanted to be rich. There wasn’t any shame about it.
Until tonight, I had forgotten what that felt like.