Remembrances of Things Past

Have you ever found yourself in a place, far, far away from home, that reminds you, quite vividly, of another time and place in your life?

A chartered plane at one's disposal is a most addicting indulgence, I find
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

It just happened to me, Dear Reader.

Belgians are the only way to fly, don't you think?
Photograph by Boy Fenwick

I have recently returned from a week with dear friends on a tiny sand slip of an island way out in the tropic Atlantic Ocean, surrounded by turquoise waters, pale pink beaches, and nights spent dancing in postage stamp sized clubs to the pounding beat and soaring vocals of deep house music.

The view from the restaurant at the hotel we frequented during our stay
Photograph by Reggie Darling

It took me back many years, to when I was an habitué of the enormous dance clubs that once littered the downtowns of New York City, Los Angeles, Miami, and San Francisco, where I spent many, many nights dancing and carousing to the light fantastic, mind-bending music of the great, internationally acclaimed deejays of the 1980s and 1990s.

The picturesque house we rented in the island's little town
Image courtesy of Hibiscus Hill

I did so then with a close knit group of friends that I no longer see anymore.  After a decade of intense and constant interaction with each other we were blown asunder by the winds of change, shifting priorities, and evolving alliances.

The languorous piazza where we spent much of our time during our stay
Photograph by Reggie Darling

I will always look back on my laughter-filled years with my old gang as honeyed and intensely and insanely fun.  It was a close group of amusing, clever, and game-for-anything friends.  We were young, affluent, and handsome, and the world was ours for the taking.  Out all the time, shaking it, shouting with laughter, we were giddy and glad of it.

I spent many nights at dance parties similar to this one in La Grande Bellezza
Video courtesy of Janus Films

I'm no longer friends with that gang, though, with one or two notable exceptions.  I upset the apple cart when Lady Destiny raised her hand and tossed me the bewitching Boy Fenwick.  One look at him and I was smitten.  There was no going back for me.  After much hand wringing and with my heart racing I flew the coop and found myself deliriously soaring in the oxygenated air of the suddenly new and unexpected, excitedly and nervously anticipating what would come next, my fingers crossed.

Bougainvillea was everywhere on the island
Photograph by Reggie Darling

I ask you, what does one do when confronted by Destiny?  You follow her lead, Dear Reader, because you must.  That's why they call it destiny, after all . . .

I identify in certain ways with the character of Jep Gambardella
in La Grande Bellezza, as seen here in a still from the film
Image courtesy of Janus Films

And that's what I found myself reflecting upon as I danced the night away in the tiny nightclubs of the island I visited.  There I was, all these years later, laughing and dancing with another very special group of sophisticated, world-traveled style people of wit and good will.  My friends.  And each and every one of us was ready for the fun and frolic that was there to be had for the asking.

The view from the window of the plane we chartered to fly us back
to where we came from
Photograph courtesy of James Littlefield

Take it from me, Dear Reader, there is another act.

I'm the living proof of it.

Swept Away

No, Dear Reader, this is not a photograph of a sandy seashore covered with seashells.

Rather, it is a photograph of a towel, spread out on our dining room table at Darlington House, covered with the shells that once occupied our Shell Mania mantel display, the subject of an earlier post of mine.

Now that Christmas is fast approaching, we are beginning to ready Darlington House for the holiday.  That meant that this summer's Shell Mania decoration needed to be, well, swept away to make room for more seasonal embellishments.

Which reminds me of one of my favorite films, Lina Wertmüller's Travolti da un Insolito nell' Azurro Mare s'Agosto, which loosely translates into English as "Destiny in the Blue Sea of August" (it was distributed in this country as Swept Away).  It is a marvelously amusing and sexy movie about an insufferable, spoiled, rich Italian woman (played to perfection by Mariangela Melato) whose Mediterranean yachting vacation takes an unexpected turn when she and one of the boat's crew become stranded on a desert island, and their roles are deliciously and hilariously reversed.  Do yourself a favor, Dear Reader, and rent it (or download it) in the original Italian language version with subtitles, and not a dubbed version (and certainly not Madonna's disastrous remake thirty years later).  Ms. Melato's performance in Swept Away is absolutely divine, and much of the pleasure of watching the film is listening to her non-stop complaining, snarling, shrieking, and—ultimately—purring as she first reviles and then falls helplessly in love with the character played by Giancarlo Giannini.

For those of Reggie's readers who may now be longing more for sandy shores than sleigh bells, he highly recommends it.  He is confident that you, too, will be swept away . . .

Photograph of shells by Boy Fenwick