Valentine’s Day is coming up so we thought it would be a good time to sell the handy little kitchen helper called EX Knife. Fab’s Editor Sarah Fones takes a trip down memory lane.
Head: This is for the cruel brainiac who dazzled me with his talk of chaos theory and black swans; who made me nauseous with self-doubt; and who told me not to bother recycling, since it was “for losers.”
Heart: This is for the first love, a beautiful Frenchman who called me “little doll” and who still flirts with me on Facebook from the comfort of home, 3,630 miles away. Le grand sigh.
Gut: This is for the worrier, a man whose myriad maladies were partially psychosomatic, partially attributable to bad genes, and guaranteed to prompt a period of reflective silence every night.
Thigh: This is for the carnivore who got me eating red meat again after eight years of abstention. Dinner was steak and dessert was chocolate, because he liked watching the look on my face when I ate it.
Knee: This is for the runaway, who told me he couldn’t come to LA to live with me right away because he had to get his teeth worked on. They were pretty wretched, he was British, and I was naïve.
Want to exercise a little voodoo on your own? Then check out our sale.