Check this out. Nearing his 50th birthday, Simon Cowell writes his younger self a letter. It’s about how he lost his shirt as a young man, but then climbed his way back to the top. It’s all in the third person–including when the narrative catches up to the present. It’s kind of bizarre, actually:
Dear Simon,
First things first, how are you? On second thoughts, don’t answer that. I know exactly how you are feeling. It is the early Nineties and you are frustrated, exhausted and worried sick. Life at this moment is not great. Yet just a few years ago, you felt like you were the king of the world!
However, your dazzling reign turned out to be rather short-lived, to say the least. The record label you co-owned went bust and you lost everything – the big house, the car, everything.
So the sun went down on your shiny empire and you had to go back to living with Mum and Dad. That was, as I am sure you and I agree, humbling to say the least. Yet what is harder – much harder – is trying to claw your way back up the ladder.
***
Next week, you are throwing a fabulous bash to celebrate your 50th birthday. Your great friend, Sir Philip Green, and his wife, Lady Tina, are organising it for you but, contrary to some reports, he is not paying for it. Simon, you would never let anyone pick up that tab. Are you kidding? Old habits die hard.
You are tremendously excited about this party. When you were a small boy, your parents lived next door to one of the bosses at Elstree film studios. You remember peering over the garden wall and seeing the likes of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton at a fabulous party.
And what you remember, most vividly, is that you wanted to be at that party. You wanted to join in. Well, this time the party is all yours. It is going to be a great night. So happy birthday!
Love Simon
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