I glanced over the past three years of Valentine’s Days nested in the archives today. Two out of three were spent in Australia, none of them involved a date. I think that’s lame. And yes, yes, yes: Valentine’s Day is a capitalistic blah that only makes humans spend blah blah blah…
I get it. To me, boycotting a day for lovers is biting off your nose to spite to your face. While I recognize every day should be lovers day, heart shaped lollies once a year are fine by me.
A few weeks ago I was knocking back wines with my girlfriend when we decided we would be each other’s Valentine since her man is in Ohio and me? Well. Yeah.
Therefore, I secured a pair of tickets to the Bowery Valentine’s Gala at the Plaza, a charity event for the Bowery Mission.
I have never had a fancy-pants Valentine’s Day. And I sure as hell have never been to a “Gala”. I didn’t even go to the prom, for real.
For the occasion I borrowed a smashing gold evening gown from a colleague who, at the sound of my Valentine’s date, sized me up and down with a, “Greeeetch, we are the same size, man. Let me bring this dress to show you…”
Considering an occasion of wearing gold glitters at one of the most iconic chunks of history in this town, obviously I had to bring the shoes. I don’t know what I’m more in love with, towering at six feet on top of the prettiest, glittery tip-taps… or the fact that I only had to walk four blocks to discover them… in the first store I went into.
Plaza! Here we come…
(the shoes? the shoes. it’s gotta be the shoes.)