Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Love is...

I know that seems very wrong for someone who professes to be a communist, but hear me out. One of my best friends in the whole world lives in Monaco but is here for six weeks of the summer, and tonight came over and brought her very nice new boyfriend... and THIS, my Christmas present; a beautiful bag she found in a vintage store in Antibes. I absolutely adore it. But what I love just as much as the bag itself is the thought that she was walking around Antibes (somewhere I've never been but conjures images of Lauren Bacall smoking long cigarettes and drinking black coffee), and was thinking about me, and that I don't think she would look twice at this bag if she was shopping for herself but knew straight away that if I saw it I would look twice and then a third time.

There are lots of things that tell you someone loves you, but when they're in present form and a surprise they really make you want to clap and jump.

Love is also saying completely irrational and potentially offensive things and pretending you don't mean anything by them. But I'm prepared to believe that only applies to me. And maybe Bacall; she seems like the kind of broad who could be a bit nutty. And while it might look like a bad thing, it's we crazies who end up with the Bogarts and the Vegas, and that's as far from a bad thing as you can possibly get.

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