A romantic revolution
why valentines day is necessary
Valentine’s Day may be a commercialised holiday, but its placement in the calendar is oddly perfect.
In the lingering cold of February, when the first signs of life whisper at the edges of winter, a celebration of love — whether for another or ourselves — feels instinctive, even necessary.
Outside, the first snowdrop flowers are appearing, covering the roadsides like moon-soaked pearls. As if the earth is adorning herself. Getting ready for the coming season of blossoming.
For me, spring is for lovers. It’s an erotic burst of flowers, bees, magnolia perfume and warmer, hazy days. It’s alive and sensuous in all the ways I long for during these stilled and grey hours.
We have just passed Imbolc (Saint Brigid's Day to some), an ancient marker that spring is stirring in the belly of the land. Though winter still lingers, there is already an air of romantic becoming in the wild.
The bullfinches’ proud peach bellies appear, followed by a shy dawn chorus. A careful eye will spot the first primroses and the gentle sway of catkins. Cutesy pink rhubarb, fresh radicchio and juicy blood oranges are welcome guests at the table.
Of course, Valentine’s Day has nothing to do with the ebbs and flows of our natural world. However, in our modern way of being, celebrating the warmth that love can bring at this time is wise. Like a dram of whisky after a particularly long and frosty walk.
My excitement for this admittedly kitsch day doesn’t come from being in a place of partnership. Quite the opposite. I’m 33 and happily single.
There was a time when I dreaded Valentine’s Day — the forced expectations and the reminder of what I didn’t have. A constant societal pressure for single women my age but that’s a post for another time.
After a brief spell of fun but disappointing dates last year, I committed. If I adore love so much, why not give that energy to myself?
It was less of a grand declaration and more of a slow shift, an accumulation of small gestures that made me feel radiant. This was an inside-out job.
Quiet practices that once felt silly and indulgent now feel like a deeper way of knowing myself.
I have Venus in Leo, so naturally, I love romancing each day — a quality that has come in handy on this quest for self-adornment. Some ways I have been building inner radiance are:
- Sipping tea in pockets of sunlight
- Getting dressed up to go to a gallery
- Handwritten love notes, forgotten about and found
- Wearing perfume to bed
- Cardamom buns on Friday
- Cherry pancakes on Sunday
- Bossa Nova in the car
- Reading in the morning
- Dancing to Olivia Dean
- Herbal body oiling in candlelight
- Going to a cafe just for dessert
- Writing love letters to friends
- Daily gua sha with rosehip oil
- Wearing lipstick, just because
- Writing poetry in tea houses
In truth, romance isn’t about grand gestures, simple pleasures or partnerships — it’s about how we move through the world, how we care for ourselves and those around us, and how we pay attention to the beauty of life.
As Audrey Lorde says “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence. It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare”
Perhaps that’s the real gift of Valentine’s Day: a reminder to indulge, soften and unapologetically delight in our aliveness.