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Pre WWI or GTFO

 Sometimes it's hard to know how we came to love the the things we love.  And other times it's really clear.

I knew I loved the movie "The Age of Innocence" from the first time I saw it as a teenager.  Maybe it was DDL, maybe the gorgeous costumes or that phenomenal Scorsese snap that the film seems to have.  (The close-ups of handwritten notes.....the scenes through gauzy lace.....when Newland SMELLS the handle of her umbrella and KISSES her shoe!!!!)

But I digress.

And sure, sure.....I loved the 1997 version of Titanic with Leo and Kate.  (And no, y'all, she COULD NOT HAVE moved over.) And though I was late, I jumped right into Downton Abbey as well.  Now I watch HBO's The Gilded Age.....because well.....I think I signed a waiver or something along the way.  (Kidding.  Or am I????)

But truthfully, it was all loooooong before all of this media.  And I think it has a little something to do with being a North Carolina girl.

As any true Gilded Age fan and follower knows, all the rich people of the Edwardian and Robber Baron ilk had country homes....."shooting boxes" or "salt boxes" as they were oft charmingly called.  Here in the mountains of my home state is one of the most beautiful representations of one: The Biltmore Estate.

Growing up, I didn't give it much thought.  It was there....over on the western side of the state....only 2 hours or so from me.  I would go there on school field trips and later even have season tickets there and stay at the Inn on the Estate.

But as a wee little girl, staying and playing at my grandparents' house, it manifested itself this way:


Through this guidebook that was housed in my Mam-Maw's meager library.  I believe she had visited and brought it home from a trip.  I thumbed through it endlessly and obviously laid a ground work of loving a time period I never could have possibly conceived.  The Vanderbilts, the Astors, the Carnegies.....not to mention the Royals across the pond that I would someday be enamored with.  These were the beginnings of the relationships I would make with a time, and place and group of people that continues to fascinate me to this day. 

(And no, this isn't the exact same guidebook and map.  I'm sure either someone in my family has it or it was lost in the flotsam and jetsam along the way.  But thanks to online used booksellers, is there really anything we can lay our grubby little hands upon?)

And to be honest, before anyone asks, I'm still not sure why.  If my family had lived closer to the Biltmore, there's no way we'd be visiting but more likely working there.  Why do the poor look up to the rich?  Aspiration?  Curiosity?  Romanticism?  I'll just blame George Vanderbilt and Edith Wharton and be done with it!


And as I plan a trip to The Estate later this week, it's amazing to think about how much it has changed since this humble fold-out map was printed.  Now there are private cottages, a luxurious inn, extended gardens and multiple villages and restaurants.  My god, the winery wasn't yet open to the public when this book and map were available to the public.  Now for a mere extra $60 I could tack on a wine and chocolate tasting to my $130 Self-Guided Tour ticket.  (Yeah. I know. It has been called one of the most overpriced tourist attractions in America.  Not in North Carolina.....in AMERICA!)

It's also amazing to think about how the world has changed since then.  We've come to both glamourize and demonize the rich and famous.  And these days, we have an entirely new world of celebrities, reality stars and royals.  I never would have imagined I'd learn so much about The Commodore and his descendants or that I'd love Henry James and Ken Follett and have strong opinions about The Great War.  Yet.....here we are. 

Oh, grown-up Becky.  You really have come a long way, baby.



Meanwhile, here's grade school Becky......reading about and losing herself in the pictures of this grand estate.  Never realizing she would one day be collecting books, watching documentaries and driving away on solo weekends to the mountains to immerse herself in this long-ago world-away culture.  Who says you can't go home again? 

(By the way, Thomas Wolfe said that.  Also an Asheville native.  Maybe I'll visit his house next!)
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