A day of love, belated.

I wasn't crazy about Valentine's Day growing up. It was awkward writing cards to my whole elementary school class (especially to the boy that I had a crush on/that girl who wasn't particularly nice) and I dressed under the conviction that wearing red and pink together made people look like Minnie Mouse. But with each passing year, the holiday grows on me; not just because of the day's namesake (which is lovely), but because I think it's a great excuse for us to remind our friends and family that they are loved.

In the midst of what has turned out to be the most insane week, we had a lovely, quiet evening together at Malatesta in the West Village to celebrate.

We've been together for nine Valentine's Days now, and writing love notes to that boy I have a crush on is no longer awkward. But I stand by my no-red-on-pink policy.