‘I’ve become a Jane Austen heroine’
How calligraphy and watercolours helped a ‘Type A’ millennial relax and go with the flow
It’s two in the afternoon, and I’m sitting at my dining room table practising my penmanship.
Let me explain. Classified by my friends and family as “extremely Type A,” I had plans for being quarantined. Big plans. Productive plans. Plans that involved Anna Wintour’s Masterclass, conquering Italian cooking and working on my (imaginary) six-pack abs.
Instead, I find myself very contentedly listening to Beethoven while writing the names of loved ones in calligraphy, painting watercolour landscapes, reading 19th-century literature, reteaching myself French and I just ordered a cross-stitch kit on Etsy.
In short, the very definition of an “Accomplished Woman” in Regency-era England.
If you’re an avid Jane Austenite such as myself, you’ll be sure to recognize the term, “Accomplished Woman,” from a scene in “Pride & Prejudice” when Mr. Darcy and his friends list all qualities women must possess to be considered refined (playing an instrument, drawing, singing, dancing, proper etiquette and reading, to name a few). Elizabeth Bennet criticizes these unrealistic expectations and the Elizabeth/Darcy love/hate relationship flourishes.
While Austen herself writes from a place of satire, the significance placed on women’s accomplishments during this time cannot be overstated. A woman’s expertise in languages, instruments and sewing directly represented her marital eligibility. Middle- and upperclass women were taught these skills at either boarding school or through a governess, to appear more elegant and thus attracting richer, more eligible men.
So how did I, a millennial living in 2020, get here? I certainly wasn’t expanding my French and practising calligraphy to attract a future husband (although I wouldn’t complain if Mr. Darcy showed up at my front door, with a bouquet of toilet paper and hand sanitizer).
After being temporarily laid off at the beginning of the quarantine, I was frantic. I scheduled my free time like a primary school teacher does for her students, a new activity every 90 minutes. It was a means of feeling control during an uncertain time — I couldn’t control what was going on around me, but I could control what I was doing. I then became competitive about it, reeling from years of overachieving at school and work. But as days turned to weeks and the pressures of productivity wore off, I started doing activities simply because they gave me joy.
In this time of forced reflection, I realized, like many others, I have not had six free weeks to myself since I was 16. Between working during high school and interning as a university student, time management quickly became my best friend.
The closest I came to calligraphy was deciphering the barista’s penmanship on my peppermint mocha during exams.
While students of eras past went backpacking to Europe and road-tripping along the West Coast after graduation, I worked hard to get a job straight out of school to ensure financial security. I would be hard-pressed to name one of my university colleagues who didn’t start job hunting immediately after receiving their degree.
For years, millennials have been in “The Hunger Games” of employment. With fewer fulltime jobs available and worldwide competition for those limited spots, a university degree and high marks no longer come with an employment guarantee. Cue the volunteering, interning, part-timing, freelancing and portfolio building — it’s no wonder millennial burnout continues to be a trending topic. Many have been forced to abandon the hobbies that once gave us so much joy.
But suddenly, after years of career-obsessing, there’s nothing to do but sit and wait. Obviously, not everyone has leisure time right now — essential workers are risking their health every day to keep us safe, working longer and harder hours — but for many others such as myself, we’re trapped inside with nothing but repeat viewings of Autumn de Wilde’s new adaptation of “Emma.”
Hobbies are a way of getting in touch with a side of ourselves that we don’t otherwise get to access through work, school or social settings. For many, it’s a way of managing anxiety and depression during such a complicated time. We’re all trying to survive, and it’s OK if you trade in “Extreme Ab Blast 5000” for painting a watercolour landscape. Appreciate the privilege of this time and fill your life with extra joy for everyone who can’t. The best part of it is, there’s no one there to judge you! Hopefully, when we’re all able to return to a new normal, we can bring with us our new Jane Austen-approved skills. Perhaps calligraphy will make a comeback.