Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: politics

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?

 

 

 

The Ultimate Fashion Felony

The photo feature is not working, and I know not why. Of course, I’m not working either.

N-E-WAY….It was bound to happen eventually. You know how I feel about leggings as pants. Well, now there is something fashionable called “lampshading.” You avoid the whole leggings issue by, well, avoiding leggings. You just wear a long shirt over, I guess, nothing. Of course, you could have slipped some tiny shorts under there, but the point is to look like you’re wearing a shirt and no pants. Why you would want to look like that, I don’t know, but Jennifer Lopez and some other person whose famous name I can’t remember were photographed like that, which means you’re supposed to want to. WHY MUST EVERYONE DEFY ME?

My thanks to the person who discovered the blog through Perfume Posse. I intend to review ISM next, but I’m hoping the photo feature will work for me by then.

RADICAL CENTRISM IN ACTION

Remember to vote for me in 2020! I’m the Outsider! The all-purpose write-in candidate! Sure, I don’t know how to govern, but unlike the current incumbent, I’ll consult my advisers!

Take the immigration issue, for example. I don’t know how I’d reform the nation’s immigration laws (oh, wait, that’s Congress’ job–whew!), but I do know:

—These people are not “undocumented immigrants.” They are here ILLEGALLY. It’s not just a matter of they have the wrong piece of paper, or they left it at home.

–On the other hand, they are human beings, not defined solely by their immigration status, so they should not just be referred to as “illegals.”

See how easy that was?

 

 

 

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.

 

 

My Resolve To Remain Unpopular

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I have been reading a site called The Art of Blogging They said that bloggers who want many readers should remember that strangers don’t care about what you had for lunch or how you tripped over a paving stone yesterday, and that even those who know you only pretend to care out of politeness. Now, I am not taking issue with this advice–it makes perfect sense. I only ask that you keep on pretending to care, because I warned you what to expect at the outset. And how did they know I tripped over a paving stone, hmm?

Rather than tell you what I had for lunch today, let me tell you about–

THE INTERESTING LITTER I SAW

–Next to me in the window well of the bus–2 Q-Tips. WITH EARWAX ON THEM. “This bus ride is boring. Think I’ll clean my ears.” Suppose the bus went into a pothole and you ended up puncturing your eardrum? You’d probably try suing the city. BECAUSE YOU’RE OBVIOUSLY NOT THE SORT TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR OWN ACTIONS, OR  YOU’D HAVE THROWN AWAY YOUR GROSS Q-TIPS. (Disclaimer: I have no way of knowing if the cotton swabs in question were actually Q-Tips. Perhaps they were some generic brand.)

–On a bus stop bench on the way (not mine, because EW EW EW)–a to-go plate of pancakes, partially eaten. IN THE RAIN. Just wring those out, they’ll be fine. They did inspire me to have pancakes at McDonald’s. (See, I worked my lunch menu in there after all.)

–In the gutter on N. St Joe Ave.–a stick of deodorant, with the cap off. “Oh no, I forgot deodorant, better put some on in the car and throw it out the window!” It was Suave Powder Fresh, so at least the offender was powder-fresh. Maybe the police could identify the culprit by scent.

And remember–VOTE FOR ME FOR PRESIDENT, I’M THE OUTSIDER! (I’m getting a head start on making you sick of me.)

 

 

Me in 2020!

white house

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I am announcing my candidacy for President in 2020. Why? Well, why not?! The bar has never been lower! Sure, I have no experience or aptitude, but that means I’m not a Washington insider! In fact, I’m not any kind of insider. If elected, I’ll revoke security clearances right and left! I’ll give people security clearances just so I can revoke them! But I promise to retain the red button on the desk in the Oval Office that summons Diet Coke. I will also install a perfume fountain in the Rose Garden. Roses Rom won’t have to take care of!

There will be no White House dog, but only White House cats. (Esmerelda has already told me no photographers will be allowed, and she will lurk under the desk in the Oval Office.) (I’ll probably be doing a lot of that myself.)

2020 is still a long way away, so I won’t be campaigning on here very often, although I’ll ramp up the intensity as the day approaches, until you are as sick of me as you are of all the others. This will give me the time I need to decide on a running mate, for instance. I already know inauguration music will be provided by the Sour Neon Crawlers. Sure, that means I’ll be doing the singing, but I can do it all! All or nothing! That’s why you elected me! Or the Electoral College did. That’s almost as good.

So keep me in mind, and VOTE FOR ME IN 2020! I’M THE OUTSIDER!

My apologies to anyone who came here looking for perfume reviews and found themselves in an alternate reality.

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.

Fashion Police Report

DUELING T-SHIRTS ON THE BUS

First, another guy with a “SORRY, I Couldn’t Hear You Over the Sound of My FREEDOM” shirt, but this time with Abraham Lincoln instead of an eagle. Somehow, I doubt that Lincoln was in favor of not listening to other people.

Then a woman with a “Green Eggs and Ham” t-shirt and pink hair got on, and Mr. Freedom started flirting with her. Or trying to. Guys, “I see you’re goin’ for the Wanna-Be-a-Goth look” is not a good pickup line. He then started loudly listing the Dr. Suess books, ranked according to his estimation of best or worst (#1: Green Eggs and Ham, #2: The Star-Bellied Sneetches, #3: The Lorax), followed by the movies he’s seen recently and his evaluation of the CGI quality of each. All the while, he was oblivious to her avoidance of eye contact. Maybe he couldn’t notice it over the sound of his freedom.

AND FURTHERMORE…

Nose rings are gross. The newly-fashionable kind that hangs down from your nose and looks like a protruding booger in profile, more so. Michael Stipe, I’m looking at you. But trying not to.

Leggings continue to not be pants. The number of people treating them as such does not alter this reality.

WORLD LEADER EDICT

I hereby ban fake stuff on clothes. This includes:

–Pants or leggings with fake holes torn in them. “But it shows my cute legs in the summer!” or “I can wear cute print tights under them in winter!” is not a valid defense.

–Fake signs of wear on jeans.

–Fake pockets or, even more weirdly, fake flies on pants, ditto. I must confess that I actually own a couple pairs like this, but since I always wear my shirts untucked, it doesn’t matter what the top of my pants looks like. Pants are just a pair of legs to me. Ironically, I am the ideal candidate for leggings.

–T-shirts advertising a college you didn’t go to, a charity event you did not participate in (if only to donate money), a band you don’t like (except the Sour Neon Crawlers, who need all the publicity they can get), etc. If your shirt says “I’m Awesome,” you must, in fact, be awesome. If you have a Scratchy Glitter t-shirt, the lettering must be in glitter which is, in fact, scratchy, although I shudder at the thought.

A FAN-BASE GET-WELL CARD

Before I forget, as I am prone to do, best wishes to a couple readers who are recovering from medical problems. Privacy regulations do not allow me to reveal who they are or what they are recovering from.

BUT NEVERTHELESS I WILL PLUNGE BOLDLY INTO POLITICS

…and observe that if there is a Second Civil War, I will be stood against the wall and shot, no matter who wins. The fringes on both sides participate in The Emperor’s New Clothes politics, they just differ in what fancy outfit they believe the Emperor is wearing. If only there were a Party of Common Sense. But then we couldn’t agree on what common sense was. I may have to rule the world after all.

Sign at the Pet Food Center: “Uncle Sam Wants You To Be Flea and Tick Free.” That was Uncle Sam’s final wish, before Trump shot him on Fifth Avenue because Vladimir Putin told him to. And no, I’m not a progressive. Fooled you again.

boy wearing black jacket holding electric guitar

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