Birthdays are shitty. Everyone expects you to do something really fun but instead you lie on the couch and get up to go to McDonald’s Drive Thru and then go home to the couch again and then go for a drive. Then you get home and feel sad because people forgot. And you feel kind of bad because your best friend and her boyfriend cook a really special dinner for you and only you and it happens to be on Valentines Day night which is awkward.
I was at an old friend’s house, using their bathroom. Something heavy fell out of me and I looked down. There was blood everywhere, and sliding around on the tiles was what looked like burnt and chewed sausages. I took another look and realised that they were the body parts of a baby; a miniature ribcage, a foot, a lung.
I started washing what was left, four almost-formed babies. They were torn on the edges, the frayed skin delicate as paper.
When I go out, I always leave the “getting ready” until the last minute, so if plans get canned I haven’t wasted any of my time, makeup, good lotion or expensive perfume.
I usually have one “outfit” a week (with some slight variances according to occasion, destination, company, and so forth), so dressing takes 2-3 minutes. Variances being, heels or flats? Uncomfortable lingerie or comfy undies?
Makeup, if it’s going out on a weeknight, usually just means an eyeliner touch up en route, and seriously: lotion + perfume = <1 minute.
And if it happens that I’ve readied myself and plans are cancelled, I drag myself out of the house because otherwise I’ve wasted all of 5 minutes and/or approximately $2 of makeup/lotion/perfume.
I’m writing this because I had plans for tonight but I am not sure if they’re still going ahead. I got “ready” because I was going out anyway, but now I’m back in my hotel room wondering whether I should scrape off the makeup and hop in my pj’s (most likely option), or whether I should continue sitting here trying not to wrinkle my dress or sweat off my makeup. Luckily I’m not wearing my new purchases from Chantal Thomass…
And are you in Paris at the moment as my niece Katie (Melanie’s daughter) is over there for a week or so and is lonely as she knows no-one and I thought you could have a coffee with her. She is very intelligent and fun in a quiet manner.
My uncle (bless him) has organised for me to meet up with a friend of his who lives here in Paris, and for her to hopefully introduce me to some young’uns over here.
But fun in a quiet manner? It makes me sound like… well, a loser. There are worse things you could be described as, but a 2009 resolution perhaps could be to lose the reserve and become a bit more outspoken?
I wish I could settle down and commit… to a perfume.
I always wanted to have one “signature” scent- so whenever anyone else smelt it, they thought of me.
Except it means that when I smell it on myself, I think of what was happening in my life at the time when I wore it, and it’s not always nice.
I’ve had brief obsessions with Annick Goutal (I loved the tuberose) but now I can’t smell it without feeling nauseous. Same for Jo Malone’s Gardenia- nothing beats the real thing.
I usually just wear Burberry Brit or D&G Light Blue in the day, and Narciso Rodriguez For Her or Armani Code at night. I still occasionally wear mens Issey.
I’ve been looking for a “new” scent for over a year now, and have recently been tossing up between Tom Ford White Patchouli and Stella… Until today. I popped into the Galeries Lafayette (overwhelming, intimidating, I hated it), and thought I might as well try again.
I am now in love with Bvlgari’s Jasmin Noir. I actually like that I can’t pick the “jasmine”, to me it seems more woody. I like heavier fragrances, light ones don’t work for me.
I’ve always relied on scents for memory triggers. I have to buy eucalyptus drops every time I see them because they remind me of my Pa (who is dead now). When the New Guy used to work in our office, I noticed that he wore Issey and so he was always reminding me of A. I mentioned it to him once (that I noticed he wore it NOT that it reminded me of A) and he thought it was pretty neat that I knew what it was. Not that he was drowning in it but you know, you smell people, in general as they walk by, not sniffing them or anything. And then when we had dinner again I noticed he was wearing Fahrenheit which triggered a memory of T. See what I mean? It’s like, every time I wear Burberry Touch, it reminds me of 2004 and that kind of sucks because it was a horrible year. I still love the scent but not all of the memories associated with it.
Now I have a new scent for 2009. Better make it a good year!
