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Strawberry Ice Cream and Daydreams: A Most Pleasant Reconsideration
Let me be perfectly candid: I found it necessary to watch the drama a second time in order to properly appreciate the finished result.
After reading so many favourable remarks — and considering that the principal reason I remained until the very end of my first viewing was the appearance of Seo Kangjun, who is, I must confess, by a considerable margin my favourite Korean actor — I resolved to give the story another opportunity.
I must admit that, during my first attempt, I was hardly the most attentive spectator. I happened to be enduring a rather intense bout of anxiety and, to speak plainly, I was in a most disagreeable humour with myself. In such a state, even the most charming story struggles to receive the attention it deserves.
The following day, however, proved far more agreeable. After a refreshing bath, and with my room delicately scented with notes of vanilla, cotton, and lavender, my spirits felt considerably lighter. I suddenly felt inclined to watch the drama again — this time with greater care and with a sincere determination to enjoy it properly. And most delightfully, I did not regret the decision in the slightest.
Every young woman, I believe, possesses somewhere within the quiet corridors of her imagination a small hidden chamber where she keeps those tender daydreams she indulges in whilst perfectly awake. You may recognise the feeling: a romantic melody begins to play, and quite without effort the mind constructs an entire tale of passionate and dramatic love, with oneself most conveniently cast as the heroine. In many respects, this drama awakened precisely that sensation in me, for the heroine often appeared to be living through fragments of a romantic fantasy she might very well have written herself.
Viewed from a more thoughtful perspective, the story speaks rather perceptively of how a past relationship, particularly one that leaves its scars, may give rise to quiet insecurities and uncertainties within the heart. Such wounds often shape the manner in which one conducts oneself, and even the courage with which one dares to consider the possibility of loving again. It is therefore hardly surprising that Seo Mirae seemed more comfortable engaging with relationships arranged through a carefully designed programme — something distant and controlled — than confronting the unpredictability of genuine affection. Those lingering scars even coloured her notion of the “ideal man”, when in truth the very person who embodied those qualities had been standing rather nearer than she realised.
I will confess that I had hoped for somewhat greater development of the characters. Yet the drama ultimately reminded me of the sort of light romantic picture one might watch on a rainy afternoon whilst happily finishing an entire bowl of strawberry ice cream. It made me laugh, sigh contentedly, and — if I am to be entirely honest — feel a small measure of envy towards Mirae. After all, she had the good fortune of having Kyeong Nam in her life, and her moments with Eunho were responsible for no less than 99.99 per cent of the dreamy sighs I found myself letting out throughout the story.
Would I watch it again very soon? Perhaps not. But for the present moment, I can say with complete sincerity that every minute spent watching it felt entirely worthwhile.
After reading so many favourable remarks — and considering that the principal reason I remained until the very end of my first viewing was the appearance of Seo Kangjun, who is, I must confess, by a considerable margin my favourite Korean actor — I resolved to give the story another opportunity.
I must admit that, during my first attempt, I was hardly the most attentive spectator. I happened to be enduring a rather intense bout of anxiety and, to speak plainly, I was in a most disagreeable humour with myself. In such a state, even the most charming story struggles to receive the attention it deserves.
The following day, however, proved far more agreeable. After a refreshing bath, and with my room delicately scented with notes of vanilla, cotton, and lavender, my spirits felt considerably lighter. I suddenly felt inclined to watch the drama again — this time with greater care and with a sincere determination to enjoy it properly. And most delightfully, I did not regret the decision in the slightest.
Every young woman, I believe, possesses somewhere within the quiet corridors of her imagination a small hidden chamber where she keeps those tender daydreams she indulges in whilst perfectly awake. You may recognise the feeling: a romantic melody begins to play, and quite without effort the mind constructs an entire tale of passionate and dramatic love, with oneself most conveniently cast as the heroine. In many respects, this drama awakened precisely that sensation in me, for the heroine often appeared to be living through fragments of a romantic fantasy she might very well have written herself.
Viewed from a more thoughtful perspective, the story speaks rather perceptively of how a past relationship, particularly one that leaves its scars, may give rise to quiet insecurities and uncertainties within the heart. Such wounds often shape the manner in which one conducts oneself, and even the courage with which one dares to consider the possibility of loving again. It is therefore hardly surprising that Seo Mirae seemed more comfortable engaging with relationships arranged through a carefully designed programme — something distant and controlled — than confronting the unpredictability of genuine affection. Those lingering scars even coloured her notion of the “ideal man”, when in truth the very person who embodied those qualities had been standing rather nearer than she realised.
I will confess that I had hoped for somewhat greater development of the characters. Yet the drama ultimately reminded me of the sort of light romantic picture one might watch on a rainy afternoon whilst happily finishing an entire bowl of strawberry ice cream. It made me laugh, sigh contentedly, and — if I am to be entirely honest — feel a small measure of envy towards Mirae. After all, she had the good fortune of having Kyeong Nam in her life, and her moments with Eunho were responsible for no less than 99.99 per cent of the dreamy sighs I found myself letting out throughout the story.
Would I watch it again very soon? Perhaps not. But for the present moment, I can say with complete sincerity that every minute spent watching it felt entirely worthwhile.
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