Image Credit: Geneva O’Hara, a photograph of my engagement party

Valentine’s Day means something to everyone, sentimentalists and cynics alike. After 90s nihilism was revolutionised by the digital age and adopted into 2000s workaholism, the 2010s rebelled with hipster values, rejecting the commercialist aspects of the holiday. It seems that, by now, we have finally come around to defend St. Valentine once more: after all, Valentine’s Day could never be ideal to a pessimist – nothing is. Sending a Valentine is not about the £4.50 spent at the specialty card store, and it never was. Sure, many feel as though they must spend a little (or a lot) to please a loved one; however, it’s not the price tag but the sentiment that carries the overarching theme of Valentine’s Day. It’s the love.

This is perhaps a biased report – Valentine’s Day is my favourite holiday. Every year, I spend the weeks preceding 14 February gathering clues from films, music, art and my own photos to put together a moodboard that represents the ‘mood of love’ from the previous year. For example, after BRAT summer, the Sex & the City renaissance and A Complete Unknown (2024), I felt that ‘love’ in 2024 was nostalgic, restless and intimate. Over 2025, pulls from reflection, companionship and community directed love’s winding road, guiding one’s cruiser down avenues of “protecting your peace” and “getting yourself out there!” and “going analogue”. I take each Valentine’s Day as an opportunity to survey my influences both as an individual and a collective: what have I wanted? What have we wanted? Over 2025, we yearned for things we may not yet grasp, but could: true connection, everyday romance and an inner happiness that doesn’t depend on others. We reached for sustainability: stop scrolling, go on a walk, save your money, show up for people you love. In a culture where we constantly dispose of our physical materials (old pens, old clothes, old letters from old flames), it becomes increasingly important that we know what to keep (books, your two-year-old phone, greeting cards from your mother).

As we grow, we move. Moving abroad made me realise that whenever I go home, I’m always leaving something behind. This is a fact of life: there is always something we must contend with missing. For me, when I’m in England, I’m not watching Modern Family reruns with mom; and when I go back to America, I can’t meet my best friend for an all-night chat over a one-too-many. On Valentine’s Day, however, you can have it all. 

Maybe Valentine’s Day was made up by corporate overlords to sell cards, chocolates and diamonds. Maybe it’s manipulated by advertising agencies and record labels and filmmakers to sell more everything. But, no matter what you think, you still have to live it; you have to see it.

Yes, you must pass store windows shouting, “SALE!” and you must think about a 14 February where you were lonely – maybe it’s even this one. It’s all a reminder of the love that remains unchanged, and you must endure this too: families bundled up in their warmest jackets walking through the park; puppies gifted for Christmas that still haven’t got their legs; peeks into packed restaurants that have been booked out for weeks; and couples holding hands, aged 14, 40, and 85. When you send that card for £4.50, you gift your heart with it; and when you receive one, there is a moment while you read that you feel together. Whether it’s from family, a friend or a lover, a Valentine is a visit: a welcome one. On Valentine’s Day, you can be everywhere at once – just as long as you mail that card.