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Love is Love

 

Valentine’s Day for me is just another day. The idea of isolating only one day to really demonstrate your love and affection for those special people in your life, seems, well, diminutive.

In an existing climate where the world needs more love, more intimate time with our loved ones, the commercial idea of one linear day is just that: a wildly RED day full of promotions for the prototypical cocktail of flowers and chocolate.

I fall for it, in part, however. Mostly for my Mother’s sake.

It’s a bittersweet day for her, so I try to indulge her in all her simple desires. She loves flowers like I love wine and reminds us constantly that she’d rather clip a few stems for show in her living room while she’s alive.

She keeps it real.

And we all oblige.

And, February 14th was my beloved Abuela Violeta’s birthday. She would have been 92 this year.

She was the only women, third to my Mom and sister, who understood me. Who covered for me when I was *this* close to crossing the behavioral threshold. She didn’t show love in the way I know as an adult, but her unique way ran deeper than my own understanding of the grandparent-grandchild relationship.

It’s because of her my Mother emotes her love in an infectious and most addictive way.

It behooved me to make a beeline for a floral boutique near my home to gander at the wild offerings. They didn’t have any violets, in honor of my abuelita, but their hydrangeas and vibrant pink roses were in abundance.

Orchids move my sprit, but they defy my green thumb. I grow herbs at home. Sadly, orchids bloom and remain dormant forever. I’ve tried everything in the book to force another birthing, but nada.

And so I left empty-handed, feeling a bit remorseful for not buying into the small business whose price-point reminded me of how great our country remains to be.

Because only in America is a $65 orchid stem permissible.

I went to a wine bar across the street to remind myself of how I could still enjoy the day without the guilt of not obliging anyone.

They do say, you can’t love someone else if you don’t love yourself first.

AND I DID THAT.

FOR MYSELF.

BECAUSE I LOVE MYSELF IN ORDER TO LOVE THOSE AROUND ME.

TO KNOW ME IS TO KNOW LOVE IS WHAT MOVES ME.

WHAT STIRS MY SOUL.

WHAT ALLOWS ME TO SMILE ON RAINY DAYS.

IT’S WHAT LIFE IS ABOUT.

FOR WITHOUT LOVE, WE ARE AND HAVE NOTHING.

And to love myself on Valentine’s Day, the fanciest of meaningless holidays, means to enjoy a glass of red wine.

And sparkling rosé.  

B! Love. Spread Love. Live in Love. 

xx

WEARING: 

Hat: Vintage Helen Kaminski fur-felt fedora 

Coat: Banana Republic

Cashmere top : Japanese gift 

Skirt: Max Azria

Shoe: Yves Saint Laurent 

Clutch: Vintage 

Earrings: Vintage 

{Photos shot on iPhone by Lizzie Hordell of Hordell Photography}

Eat well, love unapologetically, pray with true intention, and take care of yourself.

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