Today, on our 11th wedding anniversary, I have a special treat for you: a deeply beautiful - and incredibly touching - guest post written by my beloved husband, Tony, who wanted to share some of his poetically eloquent thoughts on what it's like to be married to a vintage lover with the blogging world.
I met my wife on the first day of spring over a decade ago. It’s the only day of the year in which day and night are equal in length. Just as she, I would later come to find out, lives equally in the present and in the past.
Before meeting in person (we met online) Jessica described her hourglass figure as akin to that of a lady of other times. A ‘Renaissance painting’, I believe, was the term that she used. Though she was referring to her curvaceous body, her description betrayed a certain nostalgia. A wistful affection for the past that I'm no stranger to myself.
Her brand of nostalgia is a special kind however. Her longing is not just for happy times lived a decade or two ago when everything was a possibility and the world a wondrous place in the eyes of our younger selves. No. Her nostalgia is for times never lived firsthand and long gone. Times forgotten by most. But not by my wife.
The past was after all the present for so many now forgotten souls. Their hopes and dreams, their fears, their daily struggles and joys, their accomplishments and failures, their style and mannerisms, their recipes. All overlooked by most of society as quaint or even unimportant details these days. We have to live our own present and focus on the future. No time to look back; there are bills to pay, apps to run on glowing screens.
Time is a gentle wind, but it never rests. And we are all but leaves carried away, flying in the air, stumbling, touching the ground, hitting a tree or two, and then soaring, before falling again. Merely passengers sharing the same sky, occasionally flying into each other. "Avec le temps, va, tout s’en va."
Those forgotten, expired leaves in the wind deeply matter to Jessica. She takes stock of their passing like she would do for friend who left too soon, without a chance to exchange a few more tender words.
My wife is not normal. Not even close. Everything about her is shaped by her passion for the past. Her taste in movies and music, her vocabulary, her clothing, her class, and her graceful elegance. Each aspect of her reminds you of a lady living in another time.
{Image from Tony's Instagram account}
To those who think she is weird I say that they are right. She is weird to the minds of those who never allowed themselves to color outside the lines. To the rest of us, she is wonderful, imaginative, unique, herself, original, colorful. She's a 1940s feather hat in a hat-less world; a poodle skirt in a crowd of leggings. Seeing her amongst 21st century society is like a sudden rain shower in August that penetrates your clothes, to refresh and surprise you as it kisses your skin.
Being married to a time traveller is an adventure at the edge of multiple ages. Every new place that we visit is examined through the lens of the past that led to its current state. I tag along as I see her approaching this past with the respect of someone who is happily willing to listen without interrupting.
To some she is embodies a unique style no longer in vogue. Other see her as an eccentric. Less understanding eyes might go as far as considering her an attention seeker. That's not what Jess is about in the slightest. The moon doesn’t put on a show each night to be seen and admired. She does so because that’s who she is.
Make no mistake. Much like fictional time travellers, Jess cannot stay in the past indefinitely and has no desire to actually live indefinitely - where such possible - in the decades she hold so dear. Her chronic medical conditions alone wouldn’t have allowed her to survive even a few short decades ago. Her trips to days long gone then must be brief.
With each one she brings the most worthwhile elements of the past into the present. Elements worth preserving and celebrating. Never to be forgotten again. Not if she can help it at least.
So she goes on, preserving the past, surviving the present, taking romantic dates in nostalgic lands and times.
