Dear readers, the post below is a frag rant, directed primarily to my fellow perfume freaks. The rest of you might want to skip it and just amuse yourselves with a few minutes of the luscious Andrew Bird:
I've been avoiding daily contact with the perfume forums for over a month now. I do visit the blogs, of course, but they provide a much lower intensity exposure to 'fume fanaticism. It's one thing to read a lively and thoughtful review of a scent, or even a whole slew of scents. It's quite another to have hourly contact with with the perfume crises of dozens of people--"Does my Sira des Indes smell like poop?" "Has Opium been discontinued?" "What nefarious conspiracy causes LT to claim that Joy has not been reformulated when it clearly has!" You all know what I'm talking about. The sturm und drang, baby
I assumed that staying away from all that would calm my own frantic obsession. I was even a little afraid I'd lose interest in scent altogether, which would leave a big gap in my psyche just waiting to be filled with meaningless anxiety and free-floating animosity--two things that are already taking up more than their share of mental space. And jettisoning the addiction would leave me with hundreds--okay, thousands--of dollars worth of useless juice which would have to be disposed of. (Don't say, "Send it to me!" I know every one of you already has enough perfume to float a battleship. I can't be enabling people that way. I have my karma to consider.)
Anyway, what seems to have happened is that I haven't lost my obsession, just my nerve. I've always loved my "pretties"--Caleche, Muguet du Bonheur, Ma Griffe, Yardley Lotus, Ivoire. They're all sweet girls, little nothingburgers that are easy to love and present no challenges. But I've also always loved scents with some moxie, including floral screamers (Fracas), civet-fests (Tabu, Jicky), and frank weirdos (Fairchild). Lately, though, I can't seem to work up the courage for anything the least bit exciting. It's all bland florals, day in and day out. Today I spritzed on good ol' Norell, and even that was almost too much, with its potent mix of galbanum and carnation. I've made 3 perfume purchases in the past 10 days: understated, inoffensive Nocturnes; "eau de NOLA debutante" Marguerite; and the most virginal of the urn perfumes, Narcisse Blanc. All of them old faves, all of them guaranteed not to clear an elevator.
What's wrong with me? Where's my sense of scent adventure? It seems to me that having a perfume addiction and no spirit of scented rebellion is the worst of both worlds--expensive and boring. *Sigh*
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11 comments:
Honey - I think you need to hook up with another addict and get your mojo working.
Maybe it's the heat - high humidity here has me sweating and reaching for 'safe' options a little too.
You know what you need to try: a little Mona di Orio 'Nuit Noire'. That naughty love skank will have you back in the groove in no time. When I get a bottle, I'm sending you some.
Sweet Mr. Leo, I will not say no. Nuit Noir sounds like it might do the trick.
Is your corner of the UK really sweltering? It's better than needing an ark, I suppose. We're hot here, too, and still dry as a bone. I'm sure it's not helping my perfume issues at all.
Oh no - it's a long way from sweltering. We've had more rain than I can remember - floods and everything (though none this far south and east). The jet stream is malfunctioning, which means the low pressure that normally plagues Norway and Iceland is sitting over us. Thunderstorms. Very high humidity. And rubbish temperatures. But humidity, even when not too warm, combined with this post-viral fatigue folderol, leaves me sweating like a stuck pig...
I'll let you know when I've got some NN for you. It'll be a while yet. Think you'll love it.
I suspect it might be the season. I go through nothingburger phases in the summer. I think because I associate summer with gaiety, lightness and the feeling of being carefree. I can't have my 'fumes too complex or it kills the mood.
Of course, I'm tempted to tell you that your fear of experimentation is indeed directly related to your absence from certain forums. I miss you.:-(
Just chiming in to say I miss you as well at t'other place, I do come in and read now and again. It is a delight to be able to read your musings no matter where you are on the web.
ps, dont sweat the nothingburger fume phase , its nothing , comes and goes
I'm wondering if it has to do with a whole combination of factors, one of which might have to do with feeling connected...
I often feel out of sync with others at this time of year-
I know they LOVE it.
I've never had particularly fond associations with summer, myself.
Often, everyone is off doing something else.
Lee and I would be overjoyed to send you some skank specials, just to give you a taste....
Tastes come and go, they do.
Friends don't, though.
Lots of kisses your way.
[See- I'm wagging my tail !]
Hey, Jen and Nubelia--I miss you both. A lot. I'm always glad to see you here. I do feel a bit like an exile. I'm glad I am not alone in the nothingburger doldrums.
Leo, a malfunctioning jet stream sounds serious. Must get that looked after. Maybe Eno has some ideas...
Chaya, you never fail to cheer me. And to be right. BTW, I'm not so crazy about summer myself. Fall is welcome to come any minute.
On a different topic -- I wonder where that footage of Andrew Bird was taken. It sounds like a great room -- and he seems way into the sound. You can see him hesitate a couple of places to listen.
Dave, I'm shocked you didn't recognize it. What kind of Presbyterian are you? It's Good Shepherd-Faith church in NYC.
Ehh. I'm in a nothingburger phase right now too. I do think it's the whole midsummer doldrums settling in. Trust me...the first glimpse of a lengthened shadow, the first hint of Autumn descending...you'll be spraying with adventurous abandon. As for that perfume board, the trip-trap of trolls is once more on the upswing. You ain't missing much.
So POL still has trolls but no sex. That's a sorry state of affairs...
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