Amelie Poulain + Pastry = My Valentine's Day
Even if many write off the occasion as commerce, that somebody's celebrating their love for you is endearing.
Nothing's lost if you're alone.
V-Day is not about a person; it's about the big L.
At 27, I've never had a valentine.
Last year was my only semblance of a Valentine's. A guy I liked had asked me to be his valentine via email. I was ecstatic to spend the night on Skype, listening to My Funny Valentine and watching him unscrew his bed.
As a gift, he created a PowerPoint presentation.
Each slide contained cutesy messages, accompanied by my photos and his -- pics he'd taken especially for the occasion. I was touched he had styled his incorrigibly-straight hair with gel. Cute coming from a geeky tech, ain't it?
He even inspired an impromptu Valentine's Day poem.
This year saw no successor to the valentine throne. So, the early bird that I've become got out of bed at 6 PM, wore a witness protection program coat and headed for the patisserie.
To avoid arousing neighborly suspicion of my party for one, I threw the pastry box in a black plastic bag and swung it home.
Luckily, despite the whipped cream, the pastry was solid. Once home, I slid under the blanket, a DVD into the player and gluttony began.
The romanticism dancing in broad Parisian daylight plunges you in a worry-free world where you feel afloat — a feeling whipped cream on my pastry accentuates.
I like how Amelie, an unpretentious waitress, brings intrigue and anticipation back to the now-dull love game.
She goes on a 48-hour-do-good spree that smacks her back on the bum and drops her dream man at her door.
Amelie, and its otherwordly Yann Tiersen soundtrack, make life seem more digestible.
Enough 'bout me. Tell uncle Wilmy about your VDay.