A Timeless Love Story

Far from being at war with each other, disparate generations can be brought together by tumultuous times-with transformative consequences. PHOEBE LUCKHURST celebrates the charm, comfort, and community found in an ageless approach to friendship.

- PHOEBE LUCKHURST

I moved to London in September 2011. I was 21 and clueless. My job writing copy for a start-up paid next to nothing, so my fantasies of urban independence—a working wardrobe in shades of navy, my own little pad— amounted instead to an hour-long commute via the Tube dressed like a sixth-grader on work experience and living as a lodger in the spare bedroom of a flat in Paddington, West London. In the evenings, as the late summer dusk settled hazily over the city, I’d watch the cars reach the crest of the Westway flyover nearby and wonder idly where everyone was going—though, mostly, where on earth I was going and how long it would take me to get there.

The first few weeks I lived in the flat, my landlord Sophie and I crossed paths rarely, which was entirely by my design. I’d wait in my room until Sophie left for work, and go straight back there after dinner—a self-imposed isolation that would have continued had Sophie not taken matters into her own hands. She arrived home early one evening clutching a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and over the contents of it, we told each other about our lives.

Twice my age, Sophie ran a teaching charity. She was single and an only child, warm and witty, with lots of glamorous, interesting friends, collected magpie-like trinkets from former jobs to the half-marathons she ran. While we had different preoccupations (her: Ailing parents and friends’ divorces; me: Whether to dump my nice but dull university boyfriend), she never made me feel small or silly. She became an anchor in my uncertain world.

Believe the headlines today, and friendships like mine and Sophie’s should never have worked then—and definitely wouldn’t work now. A 21-year-old girl and a 42-year-old woman?