It’s here again.

The countdown to February the 14th has begun.

Singletons and couples alike – with the exception of smug marrieds and lustful newbies – are waiting for the day in a state of dread. How to celebrate? Join the doe eyed hoardes in cheesy restaurants nibbling on heart-shaped cheesecake? Or hide at home with takeaway for two and will the night to end? We debate whether it’s really worth celebrating Valentine’s Day.

Image credit: The Berkeley Hotel

Hooray!

Valentine’s Day is the one day of the year when it’s ok to be cheesy, romantic and naff. It’s the one date in the stiff-upper-lip English calendar when you can make a fuss of the one you love.

What is life without the odd fluffy heart and candlelit supper? When else can you justify helium balloons and twelve red roses?

We shy away from celebrating each other for fear it might look bad, or smug, or cheap. But on this one day, lovers have free rein to waft around grinning euphorically from ear to ear, their loved-up feet barely hitting the ground. Demure clothing is shunned in favour of revealing satin nightwear, while cheesy cards remind us how lucky we are with thoughtful poetry.

Buy into it, buy hearts, roses, chocolates, shagpile rugs and sexy lingerie with abandon.

Because they’re worth it.

Image credit: mydeco

Please, no!

There is nothing more depressing about modern culture than the big commercial push that is February 14th. The whole thing reeks of smug, tasteless over-indulgence.

Subtlety is the key to elegance and good taste – not acrylic heart cushions, cheap chocolates and polyester nipple tassles. Buying into Valentine nonsense is illogical, even laughable – you are putty in the hands of the thousands of desperate retailers out to get you.

There is something oh-so-repugnant about our need to shout our passion for one another across the rooftops, parading down the street with a bunch of flowers as big as our hearts.

Who says hearts are a measure of our love? In Sweden, the heart is the symbol for the loo. In Japan, it denotes a bank. No that romantic, after all.

A night away at a boutique hotel, or a quiet homemade supper à deux, without the hearts and the fluff and the gushing, is the only stylish way to go.