STAR-CROSSED

29 Sep 2025 - Aurora Mattia

Please enjoy this horoscope by Aurora Mattia, from the upcoming issue of Picnic Magazine.

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VENUS SINGS: wake me up when September ends. On October 13th, Venus leaves Virgo and enters Libra—Miss Destiny returns home after a long year. The scales tip, and love lifts off the ground, out of the details and into the ether. Virgo was Venus’ fall, one of its essential dignities, or in this case, indignities, the inverse of exaltation; in September, Venus bottomed out. The party was over. Everything was real. What started as magic became medicine and, finally, misery. But in October? She’s sooo back. The world is her mood. The dive is her domicile. An oyster in a shell is worth three in the sea.

Let’s get into it.

Aries: Remember that beauty is durational. Love is not revelation, but repetition. It’s about bearing witness to the seasons of the self, not about pinning butterflies to paper. Freeze-frame change is sure to cause nausea.

Taurus: Venus has two homes. The first is where she serves, the second is where she sleeps. Listen to “Soak Up the Sun.” Revisit the Four of Wands. Arthur Waite calls the latter “a haven of refuge, a species of domestic harvest-home.” Remember you have what you need—and what you have can’t be found on any treasure map.

Gemini: Polyamory got you down? When you finally get back to your own bed, is it too big? Is the frying pan too wide? Loneliness is not a matter of quantity, but quality. Sex changes friendship. Not everything needs to be two things at once. When you can gather your whims, you can line the afternoon with mother-of-pearl. Genius of iridescence—remember you can shimmer standing still.

Cancer: Mother Mary had a life after the Annunciation. Gabriel’s visit was a night to remember, but angels are known to hit and run. God’s messenger knew only how to speak; Joseph knows how to listen. Let go of your heavy destiny—pastoral is possible. Daily life has depths. Your love is ancient, but the high priestess takes the highway like everyone else.

Leo: This is the role you were born for, but life is not a cabaret, Luann! When the lights go down, when the corset is unclipped, when the diva sighs, dripping crystals onto her vanity, what nonsense does she share with the mirror? And who does she imagine is listening? Your ex may not be texting you, but he saw something—last Saturday morning—that reminded him of you. That’s enough. You are remembered. Now allow yourself a future: facing not your fans, but your fears. Simone Weil writes, “To be proud is to forget oneself is god.” To be humble is to remember you are god.

Virgo: Here comes the dark night of the soul. Love disorganizes the self. Chaos may be your inverse, but that doesn’t make her your enemy. Where would you be without shadow? Lost and delirious under the sun. A tree gives shade to a woman; a woman gives shade to a flower; a flower gives shade to a bee. Order, in excess, can be dizzying; add a fire exit to your labyrinth.

Libra: Where are you going, wreathed in seafoam? The bubbles are popping one by one. But when the body is tea, even nakedness is an illusion—cue Tal Bachman’s “She’s so High.” Honey, let yourself sink into the muck. No need to set the scene; your mind is already a diorama. Furnished not only with a dollhouse vanity and a clawfoot tub the size of a thimble, but also an endless scroll recursively retelling the stories of your life. Go off script for once, okay? Home is where the art is, but love won’t last in an airless chamber.

Scorpio: You know how to make a pearl from a detail. But do you know how to make your details into a life? What you fail to account for is the time between grand gestures. Even you will run out of drugs, goodwill and back-up plans. Desire is lack, not love. Phone a friend.

Sagittarius: One minute you’re certain, the next you’re jaded. Eyes on the horizon when the question is “what’s for lunch?” Indecision is cute when you’re an ingenue, but it’s a far cry from the wisdom of unknowing. A feeling is as real as oxygen, but no more solid. I know you can sense the highways of the breeze. Don’t forget: even butterflies use longterm parking.

Capricorn: Mess with the rose, you get the thorns. You can’t predict the weather in the house of love. But it’s not all a question of order or chaos; risk can be approached in intervals.

Aquarius: Love is so weird and boring, but I’m obsessed. Cue “Hard to Love a Man” by Jason Molina. You don’t need to go to space to be a modern woman. Try stealing from Walgreen’s together instead.

Pisces: Use your vocabulary, writer girl.