I'm not entirely sure why, but I have an earnest appreciation for Valentine's. Setting aside the gifts, the cordate gestures and the promise of dinner for two, and buried beneath the facade of commercialism (I blame card companies sucking every holiday dry) I have a genuine affection for the one day of the year that is wholly dedicated to telling the person you love "I love you". It's the day where dinner (out or homemade) is welcomed, lingerie is always donned and sex is surely a given. But Valentine's shouldn't be limited to celebrating couples and resentful singles. What about friendships? There should be sections in card stores dedicated to memorabilia for friends: how about cards that read "Happy Valentine's - We May Not Fuck, But I Fucking Love You", expletives necessary to rebuff romantic sentiment.
Grace Woodward, arguing against fashion elitism, wearing a £40 Alexander McQueen dress bought at a sample sale. “‘I wear Alexander McQueen, therefore I am part of a select group that can afford it" - Caryn Franklin's gambit lost some of it's potency as Woodward dons designer at a high-street price.
The Verdict?
Why, I ask, should a private company like Chanel - one who has survived (and propelled itself to vertiginous heights of accomplishment) during every economic hardship from the early 1900s to the 21st century - be subjected to criticism over the way it presents the very enterprise that has secured their inflating success? It puzzles me that an industry which secures the employment of thousands and spikes outstanding sales both domestically and overseas, would be anything but congratulated and enjoyed for the art form that it is.
