Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Category: Crisis in Progress

Raw Material

cash dollars hands money

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I’ve been suffering from a dearth of material since I retired, but I realized I have, at the moment, two past events and two future events to recount, PLUS a segue between the two categories, so here goes–counterfeit money + a 90th birthday party + physical therapy + perfume review introduction (you thought I’d forgotten about those, didn’t you?).

ADVENTURES IN COUNTERFEITING

I found a $20 bill on the floor at the Dollar General. If I’d seen someone drop it, I’d have returned it to them, but no one was around, so I snagged it.

It was crumply and had weird markings on it, but no more so than some other bills I’ve had. But I presented it at McDonald’s, and they knew it was wrong right away. “We’ll have to keep this, if you don’t mind,” the employee told me, but of course they’d have kept it whether I minded or not. Easy come, easy go, I said, and explained how I’d gotten hold of it. I also explained this to the nice officer who came to pick it up.

I tell this story belatedly because Nick, who was the first person I told it to after Rom, felt compelled to post it on Facebook.

Perhaps this is what my fortune cookie meant when it said I’d inherit some money this year, but I didn’t exactly inherit it, unless someone had fallen down dead in the dollar store and dropped it. I am also picturing the conversation if I had seen it fall out of someone’s hand–“Excuse me, you dropped this,” “No, never mind, it’s fake anyway.”

SOCIAL PAGE

I attended my mother-in-law’s 90th birthday party yesterday. An impressive number of people braved the cold and snow to be there. (In the interests of accuracy, I must note that she will not actually turn 90 until Wednesday.) It is the job of Trexa and myself at these gatherings to sit in the corner and mutter about how loud everyone else is. I am betting this was the loudest 90th birthday party I’ll ever attend, and possibly the loudest anyone will ever attend. Unfortunately, the corner we were sitting in was right in front of the card/gift table, and people kept handing me things and asking me to put them on the table behind me. However, I’ve developed a condition called “frozen shoulder,” and I can’t really reach behind me. So I’d hand the items to Trexa, and she’d put them on the table. Yes, it takes two people to put a birthday card in a basket.

Now this is where the segue comes in. You might remember my dislocated finger 2 years ago, and the 5 months of therapy that followed. Well, I start physical therapy for this shoulder tomorrow, and it should be good for a few weeks of whining at least.

Also coming up at some point–reviews of the entire Frederic Malle perfume line. They will be widely interspersed, though, so you can gather your strength between reviews.

 

 

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Vampire Cat

white and black cat lying on floor

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

Disclaimer: Photograph is an approximation of the cat in question.

Sometimes living with small predators can make you think twice. Yesterday Rom cut his hand just-short-of-needing-stitches badly while woodcarving, and came in dripping blood on the floor. I started wiping it up, with Cat Esmerelda beside me, watching . Then Rom asked me to help him bandage it in the bathroom. When I came back to the kitchen, the remaining drops of blood were gone. So we have a vampire cat. It’s like a vampire bat, but without wings.

“Vampire Cat, Vampire Cat

Does whatever a vampire does

Can she fly through the air?

She cannot, she’s a cat.”

Or, “Vampire Cat, doo doo doo doo doo doo…” (And why has there been no word of a Baby Shark movie? Sure, there’s not much to work with, but that’s never stopped Hollywood before.)

The weird thing is, Ez seems like the least bloodthirsty cat we’ve had. She doesn’t bite or scratch, even in play. She’s just a little scavenger.

FURTHER THOUGHTS ON MY FORTHCOMING INHERITANCE

The fortune said an “unexpected” amount of money. Well, any amount would be unexpected at this point. Also, it would be hard to unexpectedly inherit money “in bed,” unless you’re Melania Trump. Speaking of which, Donald said he prefers to call it a “strike” rather than a “shutdown.” Well, I prefer to call it a tantrum. So there.

Nick is not doing well at sucking up, thinking that I am actually endeared by his insolence.

He was tickled to find out (hey, maybe he should be tickled! How much money would that be worth, hmm?) that my username in the International Perfume Community is CobraRose. Hey, the purpose of the Internet is to give yourself a cool nickname.

Brought To You By the Voices In My Head

person holding string lights photo

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…because I had a dream recently in which someone asked me to post again. Yes, that’s sad. No, I am not going to Make a Resolution To Post More Often, because you’ve heard it all before.

BUT YOU NEED TO KNOW–

–that the self-service kiosks at McDonald’s are full of poop bacteria! POOP!! Yet another reason not to use them. Of course, that was a very small study. Perhaps the customers on the West Side of Evansville are cleaner people. And while we’re on the subject, when the study came out saying that restroom hand dryers just blow poop bacteria (or “poopteria,” as scientists call it) back onto your hands, I expected to see them taken out of restaurants immediately, but so far I have been disappointed.

Speaking of germs, I am currently battling a cold. Well, perhaps “battling” is too strong a word, as it’s a very mild cold. Mild enough that I did not bother telling Nick, who took me to Canton Inn for my Christmas present. Actually, first he took me to the National Guard Armory, because he left his wallet in his office. He didn’t let me see his office, though.

A WORLD’S FIRST!!

After our meal, I said, “Time to find out about our futures in our fortune cookies!”

“Our future?” Nick said nervously. “You know you have to add ‘in bed’ to those.”

“Our respective futures, then,” I said.

I

got

an

actual

fortune.

“You will inherit an unexpected amount of money within the year.”

“Should I start sucking up, then?” said Nick, knowing I have no children (that I know of).

Notice they did not say a large amount of money. And they did say I’d inherit it, not win the lottery or find it on the street. Maybe Nick will die and leave me some. I bet he didn’t think of that. Whatever it is, it will happen within the year. I don’t know if that’s the calendar year or a year from today, but at this point they’re almost the same. I’ll keep you posted on my inheritance progress.

DID YOU KNOW?

Fortune cookie messages are not written by Chinese soothsayers, but by hack writers like me.

 

 

Fall Festival Follies

ancient animal antique architecture

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“None of these dragon stamps looks like me,” Nick observes testily, craning his snaky neck over my shoulder. “This one is breathing fire, which I can’t do, thanks to you–”

“–I thought you’d given up on that idea,” I observe. He twitches an ear, as if dislodging my comment from it.

“…And this one looks like a snake or a salamander, or something…”

“I think they call that kind a worm.”

“And this is that Chinese kind of dragon. I’m not sure those things even exist. Now, this one is–well, breathing water or something, in the ocean. I don’t know, I suppose that could be me, if I decided to go sink ships or something…”

“Why are you always talking about destroying things? Get your claws off my shoulder.”

He does so–slowly, no doubt pretending it was his own idea–and lies down in front of me, with his back to me. But his ears are canted back, listening for any word or movement. After several moments of silence…

“I’m ignoring you,” he says. Several more moments…”I’m still ignoring you.” The ears quiver. Then, since he requires constant attention–

“You’re ignoring me back! I knew it! No fair!”

“I don’t think you know what fairness means. Do you want me to tell you a story?”

“When do I ever not want that?”

“OK, then. Let’s pretend that you were a man…”

“I don’t know, that might be boring.”

“…at the Fall Festival.”

“Do I get to destroy anything? Can I eat all the cotton candy?”

NICK AND ME AT THE FESTIVAL THIS YEAR

I had been avoiding the Fall Festival, because 89 degrees did not seem like fall. (Oh, it might be climate-change fall, but that doesn’t exist, right?) Besides, I’m nervous in crowds, so I usually grab something from the booths right next to St Joe, on the edge nearest my house. But Nick texted me that he had ride tickets, and I had been wanting to ride the Scrambler again, which they don’t let anyone do alone. Which is rather odd, since it doesn’t even turn you upside down. If it did, I wouldn’t be on it.

I tracked down the aforementioned Nick, with his mate and his kids, Things One, Two and Three. (Thing Three is still a baby, and had no particular interest in the festival.) Nick and his kids had just been on some ride that simulates weightlessness. “So did you like it?” I asked him. “Of course not! It was horrible!” Rather odd to hear from an Army helicopter pilot. “I’m still nauseous,” he grumbled, but it availed him not, because he had two kids who wanted to go on rides, and most of the rides they wanted required an adult as well. So he kept muttering under his breath, “Hurry up, before Dad dies,” and such.

I want you to take note of the NOBILITY of this man, making their cart on the ride SPIN FASTER because it made Thing Two squeal with glee, even though, once it was over, Nick was biting his lip to keep from throwing up.

And he proved himself a GENTLEMAN as well, because, even in his weakened state, he accompanied me on the Scrambler, letting me step up onto his hands (I plan on having him spread his coat over puddles for me to walk on in the future), and carefully positioning himself on the outside, so he was the one who got bumped into as the ride turned. (I was trying not to bump into him, but I wasn’t trying very hard.) I also told him the story of a Scrambler ride in my past, where my strapless top popped off, and the guy I was with pretended not to notice. Nick said that, if that happened now, it would be a “desperate bid for attention,” which reminded me why I hate him. Nevertheless, he is now my official Scrambler Partner, and if he throws up, he’ll be on the outside and it won’t get on me.

BUT OF COURSE, I MADE ALL THAT UP. HERE’S WHAT REALLY HAPPENED…

I went to the festival with Nick, who insisted on flying up to the top of a building, and then swooped down onto a clown and ate all his cotton candy.

 

Mmmm…Mitsouko by Guerlain

clouds countryside dawn dusk

Photo by Tim Savage on Pexels.com

Mitsouko haunts me. This is the only perfume that brought tears to my eyes the first time I smelled it, and the only one I wear in my dreams. (I dream about shopping for others, but if I apply perfume in a dream, it’s always Mitsouko.)

Part of its spell for me is obvious–its basic building blocks of peach, rose, and oakmoss are my favorite notes. But Mitsy is so much more than the sum of its parts, and in a way that’s hard to explain. It’s like faith–if you understand it, no explanation is necessary, and if you don’t, no explanation is possible. It was created in 1919, and thus qualifies as unfashionable now, yet it transcends fashion. It smells like peaches, roses, and forest floor, but liking all those smells doesn’t guarantee you’ll like it. It smells intensely autumnal, but is glorious on a summer day (especially in the dampness which is such a hallmark of the climate here). It’s an introverted scent with its dusky woodsiness, yet it’s dramatic. Maybe melodramatic. Introverted yet intense.

It’s not a crowd-pleaser in this “Eww, someone’s wearing perfume” era. But it’s a masterpiece nevertheless, and ever the more.

IN NON-OLFACTORY-WORK-OF-ART-RELATED NEWS…

On pumpkin-pie box at McDonald’s–“Packed with all the flavor it could possibly hold.” Well, isn’t that true of everything? Apparently not, since one of their meal combos was described as “Just the right amount of yum.” Because yum isn’t something you want too much of.

I am in postage-stamp heaven. Currently available are–not only rose stamps but DRAGON stamps! (“Who uses stamps anymore?” Nick yawns, but he is just out-of-sorts because his picture is not on any of them. Also because I haven’t made him my running mate yet.)

HOW TO PROTECT THEM FROM THEMSELVES?

Cat Esmerelda fell off the top of the door, leaving claw marks on the way down.

Cat Glamour will eat any bits of kitty litter scattered on the floor.

This seems to me emblematic of our current political situation.

VOTE FOR ME. I’M THE OUTSIDER AND I WILL MAKE ALL THESE POLITICAL ADS STOP.

Art-Deco Garden at Dusk: Goutal Heure Exquise

close up of leaf

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When exploring dusky scents, how could one omit “Exquisite Hour”? Iris, rose, and sandalwood (the Goutal website used to call it a rose scent with iris, and now thinks it’s an iris scent with rose, I suspect to distinguish it from the many other rose perfumes they have) — I love these cool, powdery notes. This one is indeed super-powdery (but not baby-powdery) and super-sophisticated. The sandalwood adds an incensey quality, but no smokiness–it’s like an unburnt incense stick. If I had to sum this up in a few words, I’d say “floral incense powder.” Glorious. It does not smell like it was created in 1984, but I refuse to call any fragrance introduced during my lifetime “retro.” Just like a ’65 Mustang cannot be an “antique” car.

IN OTHER NEWS

The franchise owner at McDonald’s was there yesterday to see how his order kiosks were doing. This turned into Customers Explaining Why They Don’t Use the Kiosk. “I just think it’s a better customer experience with human contact,” one woman said. Another said, “I suppose it could speed up order time and cut down on the length of the line, but…” as she stood in said line. Score one for the human race in their Rage Against the Machine! ROBOTS WILL NOT REPLACE US. OK, ROBOTS WILL ONLY REPLACE US IF WE LET THEM. Many people don’t know that, as Trump likes to say.

RAGE AGAINST ANOTHER MACHINE

I was trying to get an insurance question answered (“Why did I have to pay $800 for something you told me beforehand was free?”), but I hadn’t been on the site in so long, I’d forgotten my password. Typed my information into the “Forgot Password?” fields, was told “Unable to retrieve password. Your information is not on file on this site.” OK, I thought, maybe I never set up an account here in the first place. But the “Register New Account” screen said, “Unable to create new account. Your information is already on file on this site.” Umm…

NOW A ROBOT IS STALKING ME

“This message is to confirm your upcoming appointment. In the interests of speaking to you personally, we will contact you again in several hours about this matter.” My phone rang several hours later, and I hastily answered it, since they wanted to speak to me personally. But it was the same machine as before! I should have known it was a trick–no actual person from a doctor’s office would be calling me on Sunday.

SPEAKING OF STALKERS

“But, but,” Nick is stammering, “I thought your next post was going to be about…you know…” The Fall Festival, right.

FESTIVAL FOLLIES

Walgreen’s still has their “RESTROOMS ARE CURRENTLY CLOSED. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.” signs up. But they can’t really  be sorry, since the Festival is over. I suspect they thought, “Hey, let’s leave it up, so we won’t have to keep unlocking the bathroom door for people.” I’m guessing the manager doesn’t come in until Monday. CVS, on the other hand, has removed the “NO PUBLIC RESTROOMS. PLEASE DON’T ASK.” sign.  (I find “Please Don’t Ask” almost endearing.) Of course, they don’t have to let people in to theirs.

 

 

 

 

Tragedy Averted

 

 

black and white short coated cat

Photo by Brit on Pexels.com

Note: the above photo is not Ez, but gives you an idea of what she looks like.

About 10 days ago, Cat Esmerelda (my dual-purpose spirit and service animal) started to jump onto my clothes cabinet via Rom’s chest of drawers (or, as we say in this part of the world, “chester drawers”). However, I’d left a pair of socks on the chester drawers, because I intended to wear that pair the following day. Ez freaked out upon seeing the unfamiliar object, aborted her leap, and fell across the arm of the bedroom chair. Since she got up and walked away, I thought nothing more of it. When she started huddling in the corner behind my laundry basket, and stopped grooming herself, we thought, Well, maybe she’s sore and bruised from the fall. It wasn’t until she started refusing all food but yogurt, and actually gagging when we offered her other food, that we thought, She’s getting worse, not better. Rom took her to the vet, who ordered blood work and diagnosed kidney damage. She was given subcutaneous fluids. Arrangements were made to admit her for intravenous fluids, but this proved not to be necessary.

I will never forget her jumping onto the bed (barely clearing it) to be with me, laying her head wearily in my hand, and looking at me with dull eyes, as if to say, “I want your face to be the last thing I see.” Rom offered an alternative translation of her look–“Fix it!” Of course, she probably meant both of those things. I’ll also never forget a few days later, when she joyfully bounded onto the bed, ramming her head against me repeatedly (with her icy and no-longer dehydrated nose), and looked at me with shining eyes–“You fixed it, just like I asked!” The credit actually goes to Rom for taking her to the vet, because I myself was sick that week. (Google “shigella,” and prepare to be grossed out.)

OTHER AND NON-TRAGIC NEWS

McDonald’s is finally through with the remodeling. Rom would approve of their removal of the multi-color wall panels, although they replaced it with the words “Two all-beef patties with a bunch of other crap and a sesame-seed bun” (I have never been a fan of the Big Mac and can’t remember its attributes) in multi-colors, which I can hardly regard as an improvement. They also are attempting to get people to use the self-service kiosks by greatly reducing the size of the counter where you order from an actual person, but I ain’t falling for it. “But, World Leader,” you ask, “being autistic, wouldn’t you welcome not having to deal with an actual person?” Yes, in theory, but in actuality, I oppose anything that might enable them to lay people off. INSERT MOMENT OF SILENCE HERE FOR THE TWO PEOPLE THE CITY WAS ABLE TO LAY OFF WHEN THEY AUTOMATED THE TIME CLOCK, WHOM I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN. One of the main reasons I retired as soon as I could was that they were out to automate as much as they could, and the job was being pared down to just answering phones, which was my least favorite part of it. Yes, it is all about me. But you knew that.

OVERDUE WALGREEN’S NEWS

Of course, they have their Halloween stuff out in abundance. I was looking over the makeup, trying to decide which would be the most flattering with my coloring. Then I remembered–it’s Halloween, it isn’t supposed to be flattering. I will probably just do what I always do, and wear stuff I already have, just more of it.

They also have the first Christmas stuff out, but I suspect it’s just stuff that didn’t sell last Christmas, so I will not blame them for it.

will, however, blame whatever company (and I don’t remember which one it was, SO THERE) said on TV that their product and/or service would enable the customer to “family greatly.” Hey, it’s all random anyway.

MCDONALD’S HAS PUMPKIN PIES, AND IT’S ALL PUMPKIN, NOT THAT PUMPKIN “CREME” STUFF THEY FOISTED ON US LAST YEAR!!

Creepy and Eerie: Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist

black and white gray grey smooth

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Continuing our exploration of misty fragrances in general, and iris perfumes in particular, how could we omit one named Iris Silver Mist?

Serge Lutens may be the most esteemed genius perfumer currently working. His scents are considered works of art, but they are often compared to pictures you admire in a museum, but wouldn’t necessarily want hanging in your home. ISM is no exception.

Various reviewers have said that Iris Silver Mist should be worn by:

  1. Cathy’s ghost in Wuthering Heights
  2. a Star Wars stormtrooper
  3. a Terminator cyborg
  4. a character in Frank Herbert’s Dune
  5. the White Witch of Narnia
  6. various Harry Potter characters–a. Dumbledore, b. a Dementor, or c. Lord Voldemort himself (yes, Nick, I said his name)

So you can see that this perfume takes a lot of living up to.

Most reviewers say that it smells like roots and dirt in the opening. I don’t get that, probably because I’m not a gardener. What I get is a well-blended but spare mix of iris, incense, and sandalwood, cold and extremely austere. I love it, but the thing about it is, well, the strange effect it has on my emotions. An effect I find hard to explain.

OK, the analogy just occurred to me. It’s like Clive Barker’s writing. Barker is a horror writer beyond compare, and I own a lot of his stuff, but I don’t think I’ve read any of it more than once. It just creeps me out too much. The stuff in it is utterly implausible (and Barker himself doesn’t actually believe in any of that occult nonsense), but I feel like if I read it too much, I would believe in it. And then I’d go insane.

How could a perfume, as coldly beautiful as it is, have a similar effect? Who knows? I just know that Iris Silver Mist is the opposite of a comfort scent for me–a discomfort scent, if you will. It makes me nervous. It’s what my evil twin would wear. Fittingly, Rom hates it more than any other perfume I’ve tried. He literally ran out the door the first time he smelled it.

Let’s stop talking about it now, shall we?

STUFF OTHER THAN IRIS SILVER MIST

Taco John’s has finally removed their one wobbly table with the two (2) wobbly chairs. Yes, I know this because I without-fail always picked that one to sit at.

Ad at Taco John’s–“Potato Ole’s. Call them crispy, golden slices of heaven.” OK, if you insist.

Another ad (yes, Taco John’s is all I did today, other than buy some body wash, after a lengthy discussion of the coupon policies of CVS)–“Upgrade your drink to medium or large, scan the code on the cup, and enter to win food, Cabela’s gear, or a Yellowstone adventure trip!” Hint: if the Cabela’s gear I hope to win (not that I will, having no smartphone to scan with) is just clothes, I’m not the right candidate for a Yellowstone adventure trip. Or any other adventure trip, really. OK, or any adventure whatsoever.

EXCEPT, OF COURSE…

…the adventure that is the Presidency! Vote for me! I’m the Outsider! And yet a Radical Centrist, at the same time! How do I manage it?

 

 

 

Evansville Is Invaded

adult arrival beard boss

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I have it on good authority that 911 dispatch received a “strict dress code” on 2nd shift yesterday for Donald Trump’s visit. Did they really think he’d stop by? I was itching to ask my source (well, they weren’t just “my” source) exactly what the dress code was, but “Send it to me so I can make fun of it” didn’t seem like a tactful request. (But if you do, I will.)

I did, however, run into the Assistant Director of Dispatch at Walgreen’s (a reader since this miserable thing first started as e-mail in 1990!), and she informed me that there were two (2) designated dispatchers, one for the motorcade and one for the venue itself. This is overtime I’d have snapped up, in my best chinos and polo shirt (my “uniform” whenever I was Representing the Department). It would be interesting to find out how much of the job I’ve retained, but not interesting enough to risk people’s lives for it.

Instead of exciting 911 stuff, I will now regale you with…

MY DEALINGS WITH MY CELL PROVIDER

  1. Log onto their website to find out why I can’t post pictures to Facebook.
  2. See an ad for upgrading my phone for $20 off. I was planning to do so anyway, so I agreed.
  3.  (the computer or WordPress or somebody is automatically numbering and indenting these things; how cool is that?) New phone arrives.
  4. Call to get service “swapped,” as they call it, to new device. Am told this will take anywhere from half an hour to 3 days.
  5. It doesn’t happen, but, instead, says “Error 02.”
  6. Call back, get a different person, who says the original person (who acted like it was, not her first day on the job, but maybe her first week) hadn’t really made this happen.
  7. Put process in motion. All goes well, until it says “Error 09.”
  8. Still another person tells me “Error 09” means no one actually knows what the problem is, and I should turn it off, then turn it back on. (I should have guessed this, from my very first experience with computers, with Fire Department training in the late 80’s.)
  9. New phone is fine, until I call my voicemail, and am told “We are unable to authenticate your voicemail.” Give up out of weariness.
  10. Call voicemail again later in the day, and it works fine and pretends nothing has happened.
  11. Check the mail today, and they have sent me yet another phone which I didn’t ask for.
  12.  Call and speak to a 4th person, who says they will send me a mailing label to send the superfluous phone back.
  13. How do I get it to stop numbering stuff now?
  14. I will tell you how the whole return-label thing goes. (“Oh, please do,” Nick says, making me itch to slap him.)

OK, apparently you just need to hit the return key twice. Would you rather hear about how my latest doctor’s visit went?

SPEAKING OF DRESS CODES…

BUT ACTUALLY, I’M SNEAKING IN MY DOCTOR’S VISIT ANYWAY!

As Trexa and I were waiting for the elevator, the guy who was waiting for it with us was wearing a t-shirt that said, “I Like My Butt Rubbed and My Pork Pulled,” and justified this with a picture of barbecue.

My doctor’s visit involved discussing an embarrassing solution for my embarrassing problem–but at least there IS a solution! Let’s see if I can refrain from telling you about it.

Trexa and I saw a woman who’d pulled off at Claremont & Dreier (where other drivers can’t see you until you’re almost on them) so she could squeeze a zit on her chin.

 

 

Vintage Jewelry: Balenciaga Le Dix

gold pearl and rose gold flower necklace

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Continuing our exploration of “dusky” perfumes, Le Dix was recommended to me as a powdery fragrance with a violet aspect. I don’t get violet, and I get only a bit of powder. What I do get is the scent of my mother’s jewelry box in the late 50’s–one of my earliest memories.

I did not come up with this comparison–I read it in Tessture’s review of this scent on makeupalley–but when I read that review, it brought this forgotten memory vividly to mind. I would paw through my mother’s jewelry as she got ready to go out, struck by the smell of old metal–not exactly pleasant, but certainly intriguing. At this stage in her life, it would have been mostly cheap costume jewelry–my favorite piece was a necklace of some type of seeds dyed bright green, to give you an example.

Le Dix begins with a whoosh of aldehydes, a la Chanel No. 5. I have never been able to wear No. 5–it smells like urine on plastic to me–and LD is blessedly free of that, but it does start out very “perfumey.” (Ironically, this effect, which seems so old-fashioned now, was considered ultra-modern when No. 5 came out in 1921, and was thoroughly mainstream by the time Le Dix came out in 1947.) Then come a few powdery dried-up flowers, then quite a nice sandalwood, which forms the main body of the fragrance. But that tinge of metal persists from start to finish, which makes the scent very evocative to me (the jewel-box effect) but also very dated (all the jewelry in this box is so retro, it could only be worn ironically). So LD is certainly interesting to sniff, but not something I’m interested in wearing.

Le Dix was officially discontinued to make way for the new Balenciaga Paris (which I have not tried), but bottles can still be found online.

FURTHER NOTES ON COSMO

I did give Cosmopolitan magazine a certain amount of slack (though not much, as you can tell by the previous post) for slang-they-think-is-hip. I used to read it quite a bit when I was still their target audience (well, their target audience was never exactly a bookworm in glasses and band t-shirts, but anyway…), and then they thought it was cool to use a lot of French (“be a soupcon more self-protective”) and to italicize everything. However, I must take issue with their use of the term “inspo.” (“So what’s your inspo for this?”) Of course, no one these days has time to say the whole thing, so “inspo” will have to fill in until we come up with the “inspiration” emoji. After all, we already have a “sarcasm” emoji, which has an expression I’ve seen on Nick’s face countless times.

OTHER THINGS I TAKE ISSUE WITH

It is close enough to the election for the political memes to start popping up on Facebook. Be advised that I ruthlessly delete all posts from either extreme. So, whether you think that Christianity is what’s wrong with this country, or you think that the truth can only be found on Fox and Breitbart, out upon you! A pox on both your houses! I feel a bit guilty (“Aren’t I avoiding all viewpoints that don’t agree with mine, and thus perpetuating the problem?”), but there seems to be no one out there who does agree with me, so it’s a guilt I can live with.  Signed, A Radical Centrist.

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