Today, we celebrate the hard work and dedication of workers everywhere — especially those who are fighting for better working conditions, equal pay, and workers’ rights.
Recently I posted this Benophie edit to the song “drop dead” that got me thinking about the significance of art and nature as recurring motifs for Sophie and Benedict's relationship. More specifically, that shot of Benedict gazing at Sophie for the first time—admiring her with the same kind of awe and reverence one would typically reserve for a work of art (“You're looking like an angel on the walls of Versailles”)—stood out to me because of how well it embodies both characters’ archetypes as the artist and the muse.
In the same way Sophie grounds Benedict, challenges him to remain present in the real world, and fills him with the courage and conviction he needs to take charge of his life, Benedict radiates light into Sophie’s life by reconnecting her with her childhood (reclaiming her lost hopes, innocence, love) and empowering her to see her own beauty/innate worth after years of neglect.
From the moment he first catches a glimpse of her, Sophie opens Benedict’s eyes to the hidden complexities of the world that he had otherwise been blind to as a privileged nobleman. In his eyes, she is the paragon of beauty and realness—someone who cuts through all the noise, brings startling clarity back to his surroundings, and reignites his passion/sense of identity as an artist.
Against the glitz and glamorous veneer of high society, her authenticity shines through and leaves Benedict completely, utterly enthralled. Such captivation is entirely unrelated to the glittering persona she puts on and has everything to do with the truth of her, a truth that is plain for him to see even as she wears a mask concealing her identity (‘It is rare to see someone beaming with joy at one of these things. It is positively spilling out of you'). Her pure elation at attending the ball is the rarest, most genuine display of human emotion…one free of artifice, free of any performative spectacle meant to attract admiration from others. It’s the kind of natural beauty that inspires Benedict to create art that captures her likeness with such painstaking, single-minded dedication rivaling that of the classical painters. (“What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty, so much so that all of your defenses crumble…”)
Though Sophie's quiet presence observing from the sidelines of the masquerade ball is the furthest thing from ostentatious (unlike the debutantes with their elaborate, embellished costumes that demand a suitor's attention), she instantly steals Benedict's focus without any effort made on her part. This holds true for the entirety of the season even as she interacts with him as Sophie, the unassuming maid, and not as the enchanting "Lady in Silver." Regardless of whatever disguise she wears, he “cannot help but notice” her as she does him, actively seeking her out to bask in her presence because being with her makes him feel most alive and like himself—his real, vulnerable self that he was once so terrified of revealing—instead of an imposter.
This juxtaposition between facades/pretenses and authenticity/realness is mirrored in the changes in environment shown throughout the season. We move from the extravagance and superficiality of the ton, with its suffocating insistence on propriety and role performance, to a quiet, idyllic retreat in the countryside, where My Cottage grants Sophie and Benedict the freedom to be their unguarded selves in the beauty of nature, away from societal scrutiny.
Moreover, S4 places great narrative significance on natural elements that act as recurring motifs for Benophie’s relationship: the metaphor of “shallow water," water from the rain/the lake/the bath, the fire they light at My Cottage, the wind and sky as they fly a kite together, Sophie exploring the gardens/woods, admiring the stars and constellations, etc. These constant references to nature are emblematic of Benedict and Sophie’s relationship, which offers both of them this feeling of freedom and vitality, an instant connection that is pure and organic rather than artificially contrived. The two of them cultivate hope for a new life together through personal growth and spiritual renewal. Similar to nature, the raw beauty of their love shines through when it is unrestrained and uncontrolled.
Much like the comfort he finds while spending time in the countryside, being with Sophie serves as a breath of fresh air for Benedict and provides him with a sense of peace/belonging—quite a rarity in his life after so long feeling out of place in his own family and in the sterile, suffocating environment of Mayfair. This association between nature and human connection harkens back to Daphne’s remarks about the rural landscape painting she admires alongside Simon in s1:
“It is very beautiful. It reminds me of waking up in the country…It is as if I could be the only person left in the world, and yet somehow I am not lonely. I am comforted, at peace. The other ones are certainly very grand and impressive, but this one is intimate.”
In contrast, the rigidity/restrictive nature of living in society often lends itself to a truly alienating, isolated existence, imposing an unnatural order where humans are governed by arbitrary rules and divided by social hierarchies that people perpetuate as a means of consolidating power. As characters, Benedict and Sophie can be likened to two strong elements of nature that struggle to thrive together when these outside forces attempt to control and contain them; as people of opposing classes, they are slaves to the dictates of a society trying to mold who they are and what they should feel as individuals (“Society's rules make little men out of all of us”).
Benedict alludes to this when he says that “the natural beauty of the world is dimmed in Mayfair," conveying how he feels most at ease in the countryside without the weight of societal expectations looming over him. Similarly, whereas Sophie is "beaming with joy" when she poses as the Lady in Silver (a member of nobility), as a maid her natural beauty is instantly “dimmed” in the eyes of the ton simply for being someone who hails from the lower working class; rather than being seen as a desirable woman with autonomy and romantic prospects, she is dehumanized as a servant and receives the same consideration as a piece of furniture in a room.
While Benedict briefly succumbs to his desire for Sophie in the relaxing, picturesque countryside of My Cottage, he eventually resists those feelings when they are later placed in a controlled, real-life setting like Mayfair, prompting him to chase after the Lady in Silver because such behavior is considered socially acceptable by the ton. Once again, he flees from the depth of his feelings, choosing to retreat into the safety of his fantasies instead of confronting reality and the risks it entails. Here we see Benedict's cowardice/class blindness on full display with his inability to make the connection between the Lady in Silver and Sophie, who hides in plain sight at Bridgerton house yet slips further and further away the more he continues his search to find the mystery lady. His character growth boils down to deconstructing those societal preconceptions that cloud his vision...in other words, courageously choosing to reject the notion that, because he is a nobleman, a maid can never be the object of his enduring love, desire, and devotion. (“You have no idea what it is like to be in a room with someone you cannot live without, and yet you feel as though you are oceans apart. Stealing your glances, disguising your touches. We cannot so much as smile at each other without first ensuring no one else is watching. It takes courage to live outside the traditional expectations of society. You talk of doing the same, but perhaps it is merely just that...all talk.”)
It is not until Benedict stops denying his impulses and feelings for Sophie that he begins to take the necessary steps towards maturity, personal responsibility, and self-acceptance ("That you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her. To honor her being with your deeds and words.”) When he finally abandons all resistance by relinquishing control and giving every piece of himself to her, he exemplifies the courage and resolve needed to flout societal expectations and embrace his true, authentic self.
And this fundamental change is only made possible because of Sophie.
Sophie, who grounds Benedict and reminds him of the satisfaction that comes from living in the moment instead of blindly chasing some pale imitation of happiness. Sophie, who somehow manages to look beyond the surface and uncover beauty and realness in the midst of all the artificiality (it's incredibly poetic that someone who's so often viewed as an object is the only person in the room to notice the splendor in something as unexpected as a chandelier). Despite years of being subjected to unjust treatment, she has defiantly retained her kindness and empathy for others, regardless of their station in life. As an outsider who belongs neither to the nobility nor to the working class, she views the world and its hidden depths from a holistic perspective, filled with complexity rather than being vapid and devoid of nuance (e.g. admonishing Benedict for his class blindness, sympathizing with the debutantes and their plights as women). She refuses to allow the cruelties of an oppressive world strip her of her dignity, holding on to those brief flashes of light in her life instead of becoming jaded and bitter over time. And, though she has silently carried the shame of being an unloved illegitimate child who rarely gets to experience what it feels like to be treated as a living human being, she is still able to find awe and joy in the simplest of pleasures ("It is a spectacular night" "I’ve never seen anyone eat a meal with such enthusiasm" "It was anything but tedious...it was one of the happiest weeks of my life").
This is in stark contrast to Benedict, whose hedonistic inclinations and need for constant stimulation/instant gratification have left him desensitized to true feelings of happiness and excitement. Though the light-hearted, gregarious persona he wears as armor offers him no shortage of company, on a soul-deep level he is starved of genuine human connection...an imposter in his own skin. Such emptiness and emotional numbness drive him to passively flit around the world in a daze, filling the void in his life by delving no deeper than the shallow waters of the demimonde. In his relentless pursuit of pleasure and the next thrill, he paradoxically feels nothing at all.
The pivotal act of being understood by Sophie, who instantly sees through his disguise, is what "[shoots] him back to life" and gives him the sudden clarity he needs to wake up from his stupor. The depth of Benedict's love for her allows him the strength to make crucial sacrifices in his life to prove to her that she is deserving of everything that the world has to offer. He empowers her to seek out true happiness for herself and to be the worthy recipient of love, in all its forms, rather than being an invisible, detached observer on the sidelines who has never been afforded the agency to participate in her own life. He shows, through his actions and words, that he is committed to doing the hard work of growing into the best version of himself, the man he aspires to be, precisely because she deserves nothing less than that in a partner.
Sophie, in turn, sees the realness and beauty of Benedict beneath his facade, loving all facets of his being as opposed to superficial markers of wealth and status. This unconditional acceptance finally allows him to recognize who he is on a fundamental level—an artist and a devoted member of his family. He is now fully able to grasp his own potential, whereas before he set aside his passions and shirked his responsibilities as a son and a brother because of his underlying feelings of inadequacy/worthlessness at being a "spare" second son and a disappointment to his family.
After spending his entire life fleeing from anything that could shackle him down, he suddenly meets the one person who stops him cold in his tracks and creates this ever-present need to bask in the quiet and peace her presence brings his soul, a newfound home and place of refuge.
As someone who was once consumed by a wild, restless kind of energy that had him perpetually on the move, it is through his love for Sophie that Benedict discovers there is immense joy, freedom, and contentment to be found in sitting still. That is, after all, where the essence of being an artist lies...simply sitting still, staying present to fully appreciate one’s surroundings, and devoting oneself to capturing the natural beauty of the moment that others so often overlook in their haste to be somewhere else.
We see this radical transformation manifested in the way Benedict's art progresses from crude, unfinished sketches of the elusive Lady in Silver whose identity remains disguised, to a fully realized portrait of Sophie in her maid uniform, to the framed masterpiece of his beloved wife hanging above the mantel of My Our Cottage: the perfect synthesis of Sophie and the Lady in Silver, fantasy and reality, unmasked and unhidden, proudly displayed in all its beauty for the world to admire.
It is only fitting, then, that s4 concludes with a final shot of the signature that marks the first painting ever to be completed by Benedict Bridgerton—an artist who rediscovers his passion and identity through love, devoting his entire life to cherishing the woman who challenges him to embrace all aspects of himself, just as he does for her...
Sophie, his greatest inspiration, his fantasy and his reality, his beloved muse.
Taylor Swift talks to The NYT about writing ‘Love Story’, 'Blank Space', 'mirrorball', and more.
“The First time I felt like 'I don't care if people hate this because I love it so much' was when I wrote the song Love Story. When I was 17. Sitting in my bedroom. Mad at my parents. Because they wouldn’t let me go on a date with a guy who was too old, so I shouldn’t have been on a date with him anyway, and this is why you need to discipline your kids, because they might write songs, that go #1.”
IDGAF what the economy is doing, I'm going to get what I want, eat well, and live an abundant, happy, well-designed life. I didn't come here to suffer or be in bondage.
When you slow down, you create space to stop process and choose your actions more intentionally. Rushing leads to reacting, overlooking details, over doing, stress which leads to a dysregulated nervous system etc. Then your thinking becomes scattered, decisions become impulsive, you become anxious, stressed and small problems can feel bigger than they are
Slowing down doesn’t mean doing less. It means moving with awareness. When your mind is calm and focused, your thinking becomes sharper, your decisions become more thoughtful, and the results tend to be better
Practice if you see yourself doing anything too hasty, take a deep breath and slow down
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