Oh Mon Dieu!
Dearest Readers and Fellow Bloggers, my return is imminent and your patience, what little of it might remain, appreciated. A bit of perspective, jumbled though it may be: this coming month marks three years that The Errant Aesthete first appeared in this vast and chaotic digital wilderness where rapidly cycling life spans appear and vanish like wind-swept tumbleweed. As anyone of little repute, who pens a blog, well knows, obscurity is a harsh and constant mistress who is barely appeased and scarcely soothed with comments and the occasional, but always welcome, surge in stats.
As synchronicity would have it, I have come to believe that absence just might make the heart grow fonder, or at the very least, multiply the beats, tepid though they may be. A few days ago on a borrowed computer, I noticed a surprising uptick in requests blowing this way to the threshold of the EA from that new breed of loyalists, the faceless, but fervent ‘facebook’ friend. I was duly surprised since compared to many, most, in fact, my list of online friends, acquaintances and fans, is witheringly modest, more like “friendless” you might say.
I could not fathom why this might be until I learned of the beautifully eloquent tribute paid me by the doyenne of letters herself, Dominique Browning, of the magnificent SlowLoveLife.com. To say it was an honor to be recognized by so esteemed a personage whose work is as meaningful, insightful and inspired as the life that fuels it, is a pitiable understatement.
To have that distinction seconded within days by the famed literary laureate, James Wolcott, in the acclaimed publication Vanity Fair with the most glowing of mentions for, what, to this writer, are three of the most beautiful words in the English language – The Errant Aesthete – is, well … Oh Mon Dieu! (Oh My God!)
“No prose synopsis can do justice
the lavish ravishing bounty of this site,
which is like an emanation from a marble chamber
in which Charles James and Cocteau
hold heavenly court.”
In this one brief moment that I wish I could still forever, the whole of the life of this small, unsung blog has, like a magnificent slew of stars pirouetting across the night skies, reminded me of what I, so often, forget: that wondrous and unexpected surprises are still to be found.
My dumbstruck thanks to Dominique Browning and James Wolcott for what will be cherished and remembered far beyond this day. And to those of you, those lovely and ardent few, who have been frolicking with me in this misspent waltz from the beginning, my heartfelt indebtedness for keeping me on the dance floor.
Suzy Vernon, Royan, septembre 1926. Photographer: Jacques Henri Lartigue