There are advertisements seemingly conceived to strike at our deepest longings while at the same time mocking the sentinels of political correctness. Some are more daring than others, like this one, which promotes a steakhouse and cocktail bar. At first glance, it appears thoroughly elegant: against a black background advance a cocktail (a Love Potion 209, perhaps, or an Aviation), some frosted‑magenta blooms, and a rather brazen copy of the Venus de Milo. The composition invites the promise of refined sensory experiences.

It is always a good moment to remember our ancestors. The close ones, naturally, because no matter how hard I try I cannot summon the memory of my grandparents, nor the great‑grands, nor the elders before them… I never met them. My three grandmothers—one of them a great‑aunt—were always impeccably behaved, devoutly Catholic, endowed with a natural elegance unembellished by refinements. Perhaps because of the times and the kind of life they were groomed for, they developed an exceptional talent for keeping their domestic skirmishes invisible.