I do not overuse the word robust but that’s neither here nor there, so, before I wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day, wah wah wah, I ask this: Is it just me or does this snow seem to function as a devastatingly salient (though also quite refreshing) indicator that this February 14th around, not just Susan Miller but Mother Nature too really, really want you to forgo the petty celebration of an acutely polarizing day to begin with and stay in?
Yes, I do believe it is your moral obligation to take what’s already become black slush as a full-scale command to crack open a bottle of wine and affectionately marvel in — no matter whether you find yourself single or tethered to a penis — just one thing: yourself.
Oh! And yes, to put the cogitations to rest, that is, in fact, my childhood blankie hanging off my arm with the poise of Fred Astaire in the lower right corner of nearly every shot — his name is E.E. after E.E. Cummings and Abie hates his guts.
Video by Aram Bedrossian, plaid/denim shirt by Stella McCartney