Every great love story has its spark. Mine didn’t begin with roses or candlelight, but with an email. In 2019, while I was working at The Cut as a social media editor (and sneaking in beauty writing whenever I could), I was given the name of a London-based reporter who might be perfect for my skincare column. Her name: Daniela Morosini. One polite inquiry later—“Could you tell me more about your skincare routine and beauty philosophy?”—and my inbox, unknowingly, became the birthplace of a friendship that would change my life.

At first, Daniela thought I was being passive aggressive (a misunderstanding that still makes us laugh years later). But from that small exchange grew a bond that has stretched across an ocean—3,470 miles, to be exact—through five-hour time differences, mismatched weather reports, and plenty of FaceTime calls that end with one of us dozing off mid-story.

Building a Friendship, One Parcel at a Time

Long-distance friendship requires intention. Daniela and I have learned to make the effort. Sometimes that means carefully coordinated calls. Other times it’s a package arriving on my doorstep, filled with handwritten notes and a lipstick shade she insists will be “life-changing.” Most recently, we’ve fallen in love with Locket, a little iPhone widget that drops live snapshots straight onto each other’s home screens. When I open my phone to find one of Daniela’s spontaneous selfies, it feels like she’s stepped into my day, if only for a moment.

And because beauty is our shared language, those snapshots are often accompanied by lightning-fast product reviews (25 characters max, courtesy of Locket). Think: “Try this blush. Perfect.” Or, “That gloss? Holy grail.”

This Galentine’s Day, instead of our usual shorthand, we decided to write each other proper letters—long, unhurried ones. Naturally, they’re sprinkled with confessions, beauty tips, and reminders that some friendships outshine even the best red lipstick.

From Me to Her

It was one of those gray, biting New York days when I sat down to write Daniela. I told her how much I wished she lived closer, how easy it would be to pop out for coffee and talk without watching the clock. Then, I confessed: my purse had turned into a portable beauty counter. I wasn’t carrying two or three lipsticks. I had twelve.

Among them: the Fara Homidi liner she had given me months earlier, still my go-to. A soft rose gloss from Ami Colé, an indulgent lip oil from Eadem, and the dreamy shimmer of U Beauty’s Lip Compound. I described the way each shade gave me courage—whether for a quiet dinner or a braver-than-usual pop of pink.

Of course, I couldn’t ignore my constant battle with winter dryness. Daniela knows me well enough to picture me with an arsenal of balms and serums scattered across my apartment. From Dr. Dennis Gross’s plumping treatment to Glossier’s Balm Dotcom, I’ve tried it all. My current obsession? A solid body moisturizer that feels like rubbing silk straight into my skin.

Skincare, too, made its way into my letter. I wrote about my routine like one might describe a love affair—new tonics, the rediscovery of old favorites, the endless search for hydration that lingers. I even admitted, somewhat dramatically, that I was changing: finally embracing sweeter perfumes I used to dismiss. Now, warm notes of vanilla and amber mingle on my skin, and when people stop to ask what I’m wearing, I always think of Daniela.

But I ended simply, as I always do: “Some things never change, like how much I love you.”

From Her to Me

When Daniela’s letter arrived, it was everything I expected—funny, tender, and unapologetically beauty-obsessed. She described dreary London weather, her marathon sessions of Law & Order: SVU, and her therapist’s suggestion that she “find more Daises” (which she promptly ignored).

Her note, too, was filled with beauty wisdom. She told me about discovering Kevin Murphy products in Australia, how one affordable conditioner rivaled the priciest she’d ever tried. She gushed about Summer Fridays lip oils, Celine lipsticks that close with a satisfying click, and blushes she claimed doubled as lip tints.

There were sweet, intimate details, too—the kind that remind me why she’s irreplaceable. “If you were here,” she wrote, “we’d be standing in front of my fridge, opening wine and picking sheet masks from my cooler.” She even promised she’d let me dip into her beloved La Mer cream, a luxury she doesn’t share with anyone else. That’s friendship in its purest form.

And like me, she couldn’t resist writing about fragrance. Daniela is drawn to scents that are playful yet complex, perfumes that pull you in and push you away in the same breath. Her current favorite? A honeyed tobacco blend that feels equal parts daring and irresistible. Reading her words, I could almost smell it, almost feel her beside me.

The Beauty of It All

What I’ve learned from Daniela is that friendship, like beauty, thrives on ritual. The small things—a shared recommendation, a photo widget, a lipstick tucked into a package—become anchors that tether us to one another across miles.

Yes, our letters catalog serums, balms, and perfumes. But beneath the product names and playful confessions is something greater: a reminder that even in the chaos of work, time zones, and adult life, it’s possible to feel deeply seen.

This is our love story. Not one of romance, but of recognition. Of knowing there’s someone an ocean away who will read your email, your texts, your too-long letters, and still think, Yes. I get you.