It’s February, which means Valentine’s Day, renewed interest in love affairs, infatuations and crushes, and shades of pink everywhere you look. This month we only have one pony (a trend to be continued throughout the rest of the year) and she’s quite the looker. From the safari-esque hat perched on her coyly tilted head to her subtle pony tattoo of a conglomeration of silver stars forming the arms of a galaxy (who I will name, creatively, “Galaxy”), she seems ready and even, as hard as it is to imagine, eager to deliver her mail sack full of valentines.
Extended analysis (or, me putting my liberal arts degree to use)
So, let’s begin by looking at the pony herself before thinking about her accoutrement. She was the obvious choice to be Ms. February based on her colouring: her licorice pink-and-white mane/tail combo, light pink hoof-tattoo in the shape of a heart, and pale purple eyes look as though whoever designed her took their palette solely from the tiny, cardboard bulk-sold Valentine ’s Day cards so popular in K-5.
Now for her hat. As already noted, it is safari-esque. Why just “esque”? Because of the heart emblazoned right on the front. This heart is not like the heart of her hoof-tattoo, though: it’s a darker, heavier heart made with the darkest colour of the whole image. It’s deeper than all the other hearts, and darker even than the strap of her vintage mail sack, which raises the question: why should a pony so surrounded by light and admittedly valentines-standard-issue pinks, light blues and purples have such an intense symbol of deep love on her forehead? Could there be some depth to her after all? Let’s go back to the point that the colour of the heart is darker and fuller than the mail sack’s strap, the most completely totalitarian, unromantic part of the entire picture this month. Why should the heart on her forehead have more brown tones than the least romantic, most pragmatic element of the piece? We’ll come back to this later.
Now to the mail sack itself. The way that it is positioned in the foreground of the piece immediately draws our eyes to it, most specifically to the lovely envelopes poking coquettishly out the top. The sack itself, much like her hat, is a boring and more-function-than-style gray number once again emblazoned with hearts. The hearts of the sack are not as incongruous as the one on her forehead, and if anything they serve merely to echo the hat-heart. The sack has some volume to it, implying a vast selection of Valentines Day cards and letters just begging to be delivered. But let’s look at the only sample of the cards and letters made available to us, namely, the six we can see poking out of the top of the bag.
Of the six we can make out in the sack, we can ignore the two red ones in back, seeing as how they are merely red quadrangles positioned to give the sack of mail depth. Now, the four in the foreground (or the “foreground four” as I’ve dubbed them) are especially interesting for one reason: they have stamps from the same series. Now, if you’ve ever looked at the stamps on your mail you’ll find that the only time the stamps match is if the letters have been sent by the same person, for example, all the letters from your mother have images of famous people from America’s past or all the letters from your activist cousin have images of endangered animals. Obviously the person who has sent the foreground four either has quite a number of lucky recipients or, as I hope to prove further on, one not-so-lucky
recipient. It’s also interesting to look at the image in what I call the “echo circle,” or the circle next to the name of the month in the bottom panel of our diptych-style calendar. In January the echo circle ensconced a hat and a scarf, seemingly discarded next to “January.” In February, however, we have an addition to the foreground four:
a fifth envelope, using the same pattern of stamp and the same pale envelope, but this one is open to display the message inside. Which, unsettlingly enough, is merely a red heart cut out of paper on which is inscribed, “I HEART U.” Now, we all know from texting and the interweb that spelling the pronoun “you” as “u” is no longer a sign of illiteracy, however, when coupled with the shaky, intense heart and the feeling that the pen which wrote the message was pressed against the paper very, very firmly, a new picture of this month’s pony emerges.
And I propose that this month’s pony is a stalker. Oh, you might be saying “Isn’t that taking it a bit too far?” And I say “No it is not” because let’s think about the situation. Her hat-and-sack combination, far from standard issue for a mail carrier, seem modified by a particularly crafty and heart-obsessed character. And the foreground four (and echo-circle addition) also have the same heart motif. Also, let’s look at the way that our little pony is holding the mail sack. If, as I like to imagine they do, the My Little Pony Postal Service (MLPPS) exists, I’d like to imagine that the pony-carriers have more sensible and pragmatic delivery aids better suited for a pony’s quadruped figure than a messenger bag/sack. Which makes me think that this sack our little pony is using this month was acquired, more than likely, from a second-hand shop. Now, based on the way that our pony is displaying her sack of similar letters, I would say we’ve caught her just as she’s finished ringing the doorbell of the object-of-her-pony-affection’s house and he/she has just opened the door. Because of her shy look and smile, I’m going to assume that the beloved in this case has never seen her in this capacity before. If the beloved had taken out a restraining order or been similarly harassed by our pony before, the look on our pony’s face would probably be more like a look of fear or, more likely, desperation. But there’s none of that this month and so this is probably the first time our pony is setting her heart on the line.
The Possible Narrative of the Picture (or, what I think is happening)
It’s February 14th and Galaxy has just put the finishing touches on her matching set of 18 love letters: the squiggly 3-line rubber stamp she special-ordered to give authenticity to her outfit and to place over the stamps of her 18 love letters. She adjusts her custom-made delivery cap on her head (she had the foresight to cut ear holes early on in her preparations) and loads her letters into her modified mail sack.
Nervousness hasn’t yet set in for Galaxy, thankfully, because of all the preparations. She’s been spending so much time sewing hearts, cutting out hearts, drawing hearts, and shakily (of course, because she’s a pony and had to write with the pen in her mouth due to a lack of opposable digits) writing her 3 character love messages 18 times for her postal bulk. If she took the time to step back and think of her actions, she would see that she has replaced her obsession with the pretty new filly down the street with her obsession for a flawless Valentines Day delivery. But she can’t take a step back, that’s the nature of obsession: it pulls you in and gives you blinders to what’s going on peripherally.
As she slowly clip-clops down the new filly’s house (her name is Rainbow but Galaxy calls her Raisin because of the cute way she wrinkles her purple pony nose when she’s annoyed), struggling with the cute-but-impractical mail sack, she imagines how Raisin will react when confronted with 18 love letters and Galaxy on her doorstep, dressed like a TV postal worker covered in hand sewn hearts.
This could go two ways, so please choose which way you’d like the story to end:
If you like John Cusack movies, read on:
Raisin answers the door and finds the quirky pony from down the street decked out to the max and finds that the love she’s been looking for so long has actually been under her purple pony nose all this time, who is now on her front stoop seemingly improvising an “I’m in love with you” speech. They embrace while a softly-upbeat adult contemporary song plays in the background.
If you have ever stalked someone or been stalked and it hasn’t really worked out, read on:
Raisin answers the door, sees that damn pony from down the street, and quickly calls out to her boyfriend, a large and imposing pony-stallion who had been setting the table for Valentines Day brunch in the kitchen. He roughs Galaxy up a little bit, then Raisin, feeling guilty, invites her in for bagels and lox and they bond over talking about how on earth Galaxy managed to create such an adorable costume. Then, the next week, Raisin moves in with her pony-stallion boyfriend across town and artfully avoids Galaxy from then on.
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!
And I propose that this month’s pony is a stalker. Oh, you might be saying “Isn’t that taking it a bit too far?” And I say “No it is not” because let’s think about the situation. Her hat-and-sack combination, far from standard issue for a mail carrier, seem modified by a particularly crafty and heart-obsessed character. And the foreground four (and echo-circle addition) also have the same heart motif. Also, let’s look at the way that our little pony is holding the mail sack. If, as I like to imagine they do, the My Little Pony Postal Service (MLPPS) exists, I’d like to imagine that the pony-carriers have more sensible and pragmatic delivery aids better suited for a pony’s quadruped figure than a messenger bag/sack. Which makes me think that this sack our little pony is using this month was acquired, more than likely, from a second-hand shop. Now, based on the way that our pony is displaying her sack of similar letters, I would say we’ve caught her just as she’s finished ringing the doorbell of the object-of-her-pony-affection’s house and he/she has just opened the door. Because of her shy look and smile, I’m going to assume that the beloved in this case has never seen her in this capacity before. If the beloved had taken out a restraining order or been similarly harassed by our pony before, the look on our pony’s face would probably be more like a look of fear or, more likely, desperation. But there’s none of that this month and so this is probably the first time our pony is setting her heart on the line.
The Possible Narrative of the Picture (or, what I think is happening)
It’s February 14th and Galaxy has just put the finishing touches on her matching set of 18 love letters: the squiggly 3-line rubber stamp she special-ordered to give authenticity to her outfit and to place over the stamps of her 18 love letters. She adjusts her custom-made delivery cap on her head (she had the foresight to cut ear holes early on in her preparations) and loads her letters into her modified mail sack.
Nervousness hasn’t yet set in for Galaxy, thankfully, because of all the preparations. She’s been spending so much time sewing hearts, cutting out hearts, drawing hearts, and shakily (of course, because she’s a pony and had to write with the pen in her mouth due to a lack of opposable digits) writing her 3 character love messages 18 times for her postal bulk. If she took the time to step back and think of her actions, she would see that she has replaced her obsession with the pretty new filly down the street with her obsession for a flawless Valentines Day delivery. But she can’t take a step back, that’s the nature of obsession: it pulls you in and gives you blinders to what’s going on peripherally.
As she slowly clip-clops down the new filly’s house (her name is Rainbow but Galaxy calls her Raisin because of the cute way she wrinkles her purple pony nose when she’s annoyed), struggling with the cute-but-impractical mail sack, she imagines how Raisin will react when confronted with 18 love letters and Galaxy on her doorstep, dressed like a TV postal worker covered in hand sewn hearts.
This could go two ways, so please choose which way you’d like the story to end:
If you like John Cusack movies, read on:
Raisin answers the door and finds the quirky pony from down the street decked out to the max and finds that the love she’s been looking for so long has actually been under her purple pony nose all this time, who is now on her front stoop seemingly improvising an “I’m in love with you” speech. They embrace while a softly-upbeat adult contemporary song plays in the background.
If you have ever stalked someone or been stalked and it hasn’t really worked out, read on:
Raisin answers the door, sees that damn pony from down the street, and quickly calls out to her boyfriend, a large and imposing pony-stallion who had been setting the table for Valentines Day brunch in the kitchen. He roughs Galaxy up a little bit, then Raisin, feeling guilty, invites her in for bagels and lox and they bond over talking about how on earth Galaxy managed to create such an adorable costume. Then, the next week, Raisin moves in with her pony-stallion boyfriend across town and artfully avoids Galaxy from then on.
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!