The Price of Elusivity: Love Story's Carolyn Bessette

Beatrice Lundberg '27 Op/Ed Editor

If you haven't been living under a rock for the past couple of months (and are lucky enough to own a Hulu subscription), then it is impossible to have missed the newest hit limited series Love Story. The show follows the relationship between a young John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette as their lives intertwine and they eventually fall for one another. It has sparked a resurgence of all things "90s NYC," along with a particular love of Bessette's iconic fashion sense and 'it girl' persona. This infatuation is made apparent throughout the show as her care-free attitude dazzles even the most orthodox of Kennedys. But what is it about her that has captivated countless audiences and people? The uncomfortable answer does not truly lie in an obsession with the icon herself, but the plastic version of her that we got to create.

Bessette's confidence is evident from the first episode as she diligently climbs her way up the ranks of Calvin Klein, from sales assistant, to director, to confidant of Calvin himself. In a lot of ways, she makes her work a core aspect of her personality– so much so that at times it feels like an avenue of avoiding vulnerability. But that defense mechanism seems to be the very reason we are all so obsessed with her; her ambivalence allows us to project an imagined version of her, one that has little to do with her actual self, and more to do with who we, as a society, want her to be.

John Kennedy Jr. is a core example of this. In the beginning of their relationship he chased after her relentlessly, showering her with public displays of affection and gifts in order to garner her attention. He loved the fact that she was 'unattainable' and mysterious; that she never revealed her true desires, opinions, or flaws. This ambiguity contributes to her ultimate 'cool girl' persona: she never sets boundaries, becomes 'inconvenient,' or explicitly expresses when things affect her.

After her marriage to Kennedy Jr., though, Bessette's entire way of life changes. She stops working, she moves into his apartment, and she is debilitatingly harassed by the press. Her husband, however, makes no compromises at all; his life, job, and world stays completely the same, absorbing her without giving anything back. As the pressures of becoming a Kennedy inevitably begin their negative affects, the care-free mask she worked so tirelessly to curate begins to slip. There is a moment in episode 9, just two years after their union, where Carolyn finally breaks, begging him to see her for her authentic self and not just the wife he desired her to be. In this moment you can watch John lose his infatuation with her in real time, leaving her alone the instant she uncovers her vulnerabilities.

Kennedy Jr.'s view of Bessette represents a larger issue in our society today. Just as Carolyn did, people (and especially women) are pushed into diluting their true selves in order to remain more pleasant and easy to love. We and Kennedy Jr. have more similarities in that regard than we may like to admit. We exist in a culture that rewards the woman that is malleable, never speaks her mind, and is silent in the face of adversity; that silence is exactly what makes Bessette so compelling– it enforces her role as a 'blank canvas' that can be transformed in any way we desire.

Women with similar fates as Bessettee, such as Princess Diana, who died early in their lives have a legacy that achieves this 'canvas' in a unique way: The world never got to see them break down and show who they really were; they only saw a curated version that was perfect to the public eye. This is precisely the reason we view them as so distinctively 'iconic' in a way that living women rarely get to be. Their legacies will forever be based in common perception rather than the human beings that they actually were.

The irony is that Love Story is the perfect example of this projection of Bessette– a highly dramatized depiction of her life, lacking accuracy but promoting a storyline to an audience. It is most important that we remember that although the series is an entertaining watch, the characters represent real people who once had lives of their own. There is an absence of Bessette's voice in this portrait of her life, and although it is enticing to imagine her ambitions, none of us will ever really know her feelings and aspirations. And perhaps that version of her, not the icon, not the canvas, not the Kennedy wife, is the only version worth mourning.

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The Price of Elusivity: Love Story's Carolyn Bessette