A post-mortem on love and Valentine's Day in Turkey

Call me the useful idiot of the consumer society, but once, just once a year, I wanted to see politics take a backseat to love. On Feb. 14, Valentine's Day, a date frowned upon by intellectuals, anti-consumerists and forty-something single girls, I wanted to put on red lipstick and underwear and be on the receiving end of a traditionally romantic day that is filled with tasteful gifts and outings such as art galleries, vineyards, Cole Porter concerts, candle-lit dinners and conversation that did not include words like "post-truth society" "violence against women" and "referendum."

Where on earth did I think I was living? 

My intention to organize a romantic Valentine's Day was first boycotted by liberal intellectuals: "That is sooooo American," said a friend who looked at me as if I was dimwitted. "Surely, you know that Valentine's Day is a consumerist trap. Why even bother celebrating this kitsch?"

There was a time in Turkey when we loved to make fun of the consumerism of Feb. 14. In the good old 2000s, Turkish businesses, from tripe-soup restaurants to pharmacies, all put up the traditional red heart symbol on their shop windows, ready to believe that Saint Valentine would somehow bring profits to them. After several years, they realized that no one was likely to buy an aspirin for their lovers or take them to a tripe soup dinner. Down came the signs! Nowadays, even traditional retailers look at Valentine's Day as "low-scale trade activity" compared to major trade dates, such as religious holidays (family dinners mean lots of business for markets) or Mother's Day (huuuge gift-giving).

Another friend, a style guru, pursed her lips in disapproval: "I do not mind the odd Valentine's Gift," she said.

"After all, a girl has...