Some people have a wedding list, but my American friend Evelyne has a Valentine's list. You see, her husband is terribly rich, but has no taste. He's very tough in business, but gravitates towards all things gaudy and sentimental the minute he gets near a shop. If you've ever wondered who would buy trashy gewgaws, such as a £50,000 pink-diamond-encrusted teddy-bear pendant, he is your man. It's as if he has an inner Mariah Carey egging him on. How he ended up with Evelyne is anyone's guess. She's very Bottega Veneta, if you know what I mean.
Evelyne has been drowning in a sea of expensive tat for so long that she has taken matters into her own hands. She's told him never to buy her anything, not so much as a bouquet of flowers - without consulting her special file first. She has had this document uploaded onto every mobile electronic device he owns, and sent duplicates to his secretary. It contains a worldwide master list of her chosen shops and preferred items, and is updated every season. Nothing is left to chance. She pre-shops for every occasion and leaves lists of her the gifts she would like from her favourite places.
For Valentine's, she has set aside a lovely conch pearl-and-diamond brooch from Chopard, some delightful Carine Gilson lingerie, in her favourite shade of nude, and a Richard Prince monogrammed Aquarelle bag from Louis Vuitton. No Valentine's Day is complete without chocolate, and Evelyne has developed a taste for Knipschildt's La Madeline au Truffe. They take a French Périgord truffle, surround it with a decadent ganache, enrobe it in Valrhona dark chocolate and roll it in fine cocoa powder. A single one costs £125 and Evelyne has 12, presented in a silver box.
"It's all very organised," I said, "but doesn't it detract from the romance?" "What's more romantic?" she asked. "A crystal snow globe with solid-gold puppies and real platinum and diamond flakes, or a beautiful Bulgari cabochon emerald ring with diamond shoulders?" I can see her point.