Romance

It is the most popular genre. There is no section of the library, except perhaps the Manga books, that draws more of a crowd. We love it, especially if it is new, and different, and full of self-discovery–like Pride and Prejudice, where the principals must conquer their own weaknesses before advancing to a happy ending. Romance in real life, though, comes in all shades. We tend to dislike the inconvenient love stories–the ones, say, that ruin fairy tales, the way “Charles and Camilla” ruined “Charles and Diana.” Some of us harshly judge the mother who leaves her child’s father for another man, as if she has broken not only the marital bond but some sort of unspoken expectation….of what exactly? The judgement is worse on a mother who breaks up the nuclear family than it ever was on a father who does it. It is the double standard that always was, and always is. When Charlotte Casiraghi united with Dimitri Rassam in 2017, many people, myself included, thought it was the most delightfully natural match made in heaven. Charlotte had dated some exciting men before–Gad Elmaleh, the funny man who runs around in Woody Allen’s epic film, Midnight in Paris; an Italian filmmaker (never heard of before) whose lips made her forget the dog she was supposed to be walking; the British gallerist Alex Dellal who was her plus-one at her uncle Prince Albert’s sacramental marriage to Charlene Wittstock. There was also Felix, right before Alex, who was apparently her first serious boyfriend–the Paul Belmondo to her Princess Stephanie. Dimitri, though, he was so different, yet so much like her. It wasn’t just that they each had a readymade child to bring to the relationship. Nor was it just that their mothers were longtime besties–both glamorous media presences who modeled for Chanel. Maybe it had something to do with the common tragedy in their stories–the loss of a father in dramatic circumstances at a tender age. I think above all it had to do with the irresistible saga of childhood friends who circle back to one another after the odyssey. If soulmate is a thing, it was believable that he was hers–her mirror image, her counterpart in male form. If Felix Winckler was her Paul Belmondo, maybe Dimitri Rassam is a sort of Robertino Rossellini. In one respect, let’s hope so. Robertino is Princess Caroline’s forever friend. There may have been a romance between them after her awful marriage to Philippe Junot, but Robertino’s loyalty to her as a friend superseded anything else that he may have been. Never underestimate the importance of a friend like Robertino! If Dimitri is anything like that for Charlotte, their mutual child, Balthazar, is a lucky kid, for he will grow up with parents whose love and respect runs deeper and is more akin to something out of this world than some earthly obsession with forced fairy tales.

The latest romance in Charlotte’s life promises to be an entirely unique chapter. There aren’t any analogies one can draw to her family’s past. So far, it is mostly a hidden romance. With Dimitri, there was a lot of PDA. With Nicolas, we see companionship and two people just getting to know each other in that old-fashioned French way–meeting up at cafes and dragging travel bags to the train station, so that he leaves their date to return to Epinal, and be with his son, and she goes back to Monaco to be with her sons. There is no PDA. There is barely any touching. There is just lots of entertaining conversation. We cannot imagine Charlotte finding love through a dating site, but perhaps this is the closest thing to that she could ever reach. With her boys in school, she’s having weekday meetups in Paris with a writer from (might as well be) another planet. But instead of sending IMs like Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks, they are meeting in public spaces for coffee and wine, and sautéed apples, according to the recent reportage in the French Closer magazine. The magazine notes that the unfolding saga between Nicolas and Charlotte totally has the vibe of the plot of one of his books. I can’t help thinking of Hélène in Connemara. Nicolas Mathieu is a prolific writer indeed. I enjoy his Instagram musings very much, and I likewise enjoy the comments on them. When one person left a comment about the advantage of indifference, Nicolas replied, in French of course, “Indifference is not my forte.” He must feel, and he does feel, all the time. Even in translation, his feeling shines through and he is a man who has penetrated not only across borders but across social and economic lines. A seeker through and through, he seeks to understand. He wants to know why people struggle as they do–not just economic struggle, but social, personal, physical and mental struggle. Discomfort even when everything “should” be comfortable, unease and unrest in the soul–the kind of pain that doesn’t go away just because you are beautiful and wealthy and have a “picture perfect” life. Perfection is not his forte. He writes about imperfection. The Closer article talks about his own discomfort in places of privilege. He does not live in Paris. Instead, he lives in Nancy, where he was born and raised, and commutes to Paris to do his TV appearances (promoting books) and events like, on April 13, when he met Charlotte for their second paparazzi-caught cafe date, the Paris Book Festival. Of course, we may expect him to feel some discomfort in Charlotte’s world, but then again, comfort is not exactly his forte. A writer likes to be stirred by a little discomfort! A seeker even pursues discomfort in the quest for wisdom–and love, after all.