Three pillars of love

Our emotions often surge at first sight. A dress in a window, a piece of furniture in a shop, or even a book’s binding can trigger an immediate response. Yet such feelings inevitably fade with time –there is no love at first sight that persists unchanged.

Let’s have an example through a movie. Summarizing shortly: the endearing main character of the arthouse movie “Mrs. Harris goes to Paris” loves two dresses: her initial love is for an impeccable Dior owned by her employer, a remote object of pure admiration. This love for the unachievable then transforms into a dream of acquiring her own, launching a journey that reveals the artistry and effort behind such creation. When finally presented with a different dress, she finds the beauty she is looking for immediately. For myself, this reaction raises the question: is there a difference between the love of Mrs. Harris to the initial dress, and then the latter?

The answer lies in their foundations: we can trace the roots of her latter connection through the film’s narrative, while the former exists as mere attraction, readily replaceable by any other object of similar beauty. The second connection persists in memory, both for us as viewers and for Mrs. Harris within her story, precisely because it is anchored in experience.

Not just any kind of experience, of course. It begins with pure admiration –that initial, unqualified choice based on subjective beauty alone. Not for the exact object itself, mind you, but something of that theme that inspires an interest, in this case, some other dress of the same designer house. That is the initial step.

Next comes the story: the context of the object, both its history and its role in one’s personal narrative, must be substantial enough to remain in memory, to resist being forgotten or replaced. The effort of saving to pay for the dress, as well as the journey that takes Mrs. Harris deep into Dior House where she entrenches a deep respect for the designers and tailors who make these items.

Finally, there must be ownership—not in the merely commercial sense, but as a period of genuine connection where the object’s existence becomes intertwined with one’s own, allowing for the formation of a defining bond. This happens immediately with the provision of the dress to Mrs. Harris, thus sealing a long-term bond for an impeccable piece of art.

Then, here is my recipe for a connection that endures: admiration as the spark, respect born of understanding, and ownership that transforms appreciation into lasting attachment.