My friends, today I stumbled across a nugget of extremely distressing gossip. The New York Post surmises, from a collection of photographs, that model and Swifty Squad member Cara Delevingne abandoned her lover Annie Clark—otherwise known as ethereal songstress St. Vincent—at Monday’s Chanel show in Paris, departing instead with fellow model Kendall Jenner. I have since been afflicted with visions of romantic cataclysm, of a Cara and Annie torn asunder.
I cannot bear it. My tranquility depends on consistent reassurance that this romance flourishes and endures until death do they part. Don’t let me down, Cara. Do NOT fucking let me down.
You demand an explanation, I suppose — some thread of logic that coheres this obsession. I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you. I’m fond of St. Vincent as a musician and, from what I can gather, as a human, too. Cara Delevingne possesses one of the most fascinating visages I’ve ever seen, with its extraordinary flexibility of expression and its innocent sternness. She seems wild and weird, the sort of woman with whom I want to drink wine on a street corner after dancing all night. So, why not place my emotional eggs into the Cara/Annie love basket? They both seem chill enough to me.
I’m comfortable staking my claim on such limited information; in fact, I prefer it. The less I know, the more I can freely imagine without pesky facts killing my joy. You can try to tell me that Annie does not sing “Strange Mercy” to Cara as she falls asleep, but hell if I’ll believe you. Just look at this shot Cara posted of her lady mid-performance:
Fan Numero Uno, am I right?
Let me also direct your attention to this perfect snuggle:
And who, by the way, do you think convinced Annie to share a stage with Taylor Swift during her 1989 tour? Who may have even convinced her to LIKE it?
Yeah, yeah, Beck was there too. Ignore that detail. Annie, you’ve either surprised us all or are the very embodiment of loyalty.
It’s also critical to point out that Annie retweeted the following declaration:
How sound their bond seems from the above evidence! And yet, today is not the first occasion that this dearly beloved couple has toyed with my heart. In July 2015 a swarm of rumors claiming Cara and Annie had split sent my heart plummeting into a mire of despair. A mere eight months before, Cara had expressed to Vogue how Annie’s companionship enabled her to experience a newfound joie de vivre. People reports:
“I think that being in love with my girlfriend is a big part of why I’m so happy with who I am these days. And for those words to come out of my mouth is actually a miracle.”
I spent the dog days of summer mourning what I thought was a shattered amour. Upon who was I to project my most precious romantic fantasies? What to do with all that unwritten fan fiction tucked away in my brain?
At long last, it seemed clear that the rumors were false, and your humble writer could breathe once more. But now, with the onset of fall, come new, vicious suspicions of a love grown sour. And I, for one, cannot fucking do this again. Say it ain’t so, Cara. Just give the word, and I’ll believe that this is but another sordid fabrication born of paparazzi and press. No pressure—really—but my faith in love is entirely contingent upon the outcome of your relationship. Do me a solid and prevent me from sinking into existential angst.
And as for Kendall Jenner, well, we don’t know her thoughts on this critical matter. But Kendall, should those thoughts be turning to sapphic love, I beseech you: step back, girl. Step back.
In the meantime, I’ll have to content myself by pouring my feelings into these photos, also from the Chanel show, to convince myself there is not an iota of trouble in paradise – that on this trash pile we call earth, love and beauty still endure.
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Top Image via Getty. Embedded Screengrabs and Images via DailyMail/Instagram/Twitter.