synesthesia [sin-uh s-thee-zhuh, -zhee-uh, -zee-uh] noun 1. a sensation produced in one modality when a stimulus is applied to another modality, as when the hearing of a certain sound induces the visualization of a certain color.
Calice Becker'sRose Oud is a decadent celebration of pure Turkish rose and oud, with a dash of saffron and cardamom. Oud, or agarwood, has become something of a trend the past few years, but it was once a rather unusual note reserved for daring men's fragrances, like Tom Ford's M7 for Yves Saint Laurent released in 2002. To me, Rose Oud represents the perfect grace of holding tension between the masculine and the feminine, the result of which is a magnificently transcendent and whole queer space. The scent radiates warmth, and as the NonBlonde describes, "It has a very sensual quality, even if it's not really feminine." It is, in a perfume, what I strive to embody in 2015: the perfect tomboy-femme attitude. The marriage of rose and oud, which Lucky Scent defines as unisex, is the spectrum of masculine and feminine that I embody every day. These differing notes harmoniously unify in a composition that is androgynous, dark, light, smoky, floral, masculine, feminine, and altogether gorgeous.
The discussion of a perfume to embody a nonbinary space has been colored for me by the recent, tragic suicide of Leelah Alcorn. There is a lot of emphasis in the gay community on how "it gets better," a sentiment that inspired the hashtag #RealLifeTransAdult in response to this terrible tragedy. This is important. As a community we must uplift each other, be proactive in changing the world, and continue to live our lives out loud. The trouble is that sometimes we are so focused on how it gets better, that we forget to honor how unbearably bad it really is for nonbinary, queer, and trans lives. It's like, if only we could win rights through legislation, or be the focus of a TV show, or erect a monument, this collective trauma could be absolved. I think we're afraid that if we stop and recognize that pain, it would consume us. We would fall into a void of darkness so deep that the only relief would be to extinguish life as we know it. Yet, it is our responsibility to face this anguish, just as it is our responsibility to advocate for change. It is incredibly hard to do both, which is why we often don't: we either plug our ears and move forward, or simply cease to be. I hope that Leelah's spirit has found peace, and my prayers are with all the other LGBTQ youth whose hearts are so big that they can't bear to go on.
For myself, being queer and bisexual, or nonbinary and pansexual, has been a study in hiding. I am truly heartened to see the advances being made in society for trans people, but feel frustrated that the same social progress is not being made for queer people. The "Q" is conveniently dropped from the "LGBT" in many organizations, as if we are an optional add-on rather than real human beings in need of rights. For bodies that are not in transition, social acceptance can come in the cis community, but under the pretense of existing within their determined binary, which is psychologically harmful. This has been a source of great agony for me, for many years. When I was with my ex-girlfriend, a transwoman, I was seen as queer, but alone, my identity was nullified. My name is constantly questioned, and though it accurately expresses my identity as a queer person, it has been often defined as "fake." For a long time, I suffered alone, feeling that there was no space for me in society and that my identity was the domain of others, subject to their definitions. This year, my mindset shifted, and I began to find within myself an inalienable sense of identity and worth. It was a convergence of many factors, personal and professional, that lead me to this inner awakening.
"We take our shape, it is true, within and against that cage of reality bequeathed us at our birth; and yet it is precisely through our dependence on this reality that we are most endlessly betrayed." James Baldwin
2014 began with great disappointment in the lack of reception for my first film on the festival circuit. My art was an escape where I could express my nonbinary existence, yet I concluded from that rejection that no one wanted to support my queer vision. I was ignorant to the process of film finance, distribution, and marketing, and felt that I didn't have enough wealth or privilege to break into the industry. As a result, I moved to the West Coast and found myself selling cars in the desert. A boss of mine insisted that the most important characteristic of a good salesperson was the ability to enter each day as if nothing had come before it. If you thought about how much you needed to make a sale, or how many days you'd gone without selling, or the deal you'd botched the previous week, you wouldn't have the boundless enthusiasm and contagious optimism needed to land a sale today. It struck me that this idea was not just applicable to sales, but to matters of creativity and of the heart. The key to making good art is to be able to take creative risks as though you've never failed, and the key to loving with an open heart is to give to others as if you'd never been hurt. After a script-worthy few months, I left that job and resumed my creative path.
"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." - Albert Einstein
I have a limited amount of influence over how my queerness, or my art, is received. Creativity is a dance between that which exists- your resources, your skills, your context- and that which does not exist- your ideas, your dreams, your vision. We cling dearly to that which exists, to ground us and to affirm our reality. Meanwhile, that which never existed before comes into being, replacing that which is. We find that the ground under our feet is constantly shifting. My hopes of controlling my expectations and curtailing disappointment by embedding myself in the realistic was a short-lived solution. In searching for others' definitive rules by which to structure my life, I found only open-ended questions. The reality is that no one has the answers: as William Goldman says, "Nobody knows anything."
At the end of 2014, I'm beginning to see that reception is simply part of the risk of creation, and that to ground yourself in assumed reality, or the rules by which past work was created, is simply a defense mechanism to prevent oneself from rejection and failure. Yet nothing truly original can be created without taking that risk, and while playing it safe may reduce the chance of rejection, it doesn't eliminate it. Your work can still fail to resonate even if you follow all the rules. You can still feel alienated even if you conform to all social standards. I sought sanctuary in stability this year, but found it still fraught with uncertainty. What once was standard in the film industry is shifting. Social norms are being reinvented. There is no sanctuary from change. Stability, it seems, is not so much a static plane of existence but rather a constantly evolving positive average of wins and loses: a dependable consistency, perhaps, but not infallibility.
Perception begins with primary colors, that expand to different shades and pastels, but eventually find their way to murky grays, muddy browns, and nihilistic blacks that can easily overpower the palette. Yet to create beautiful work, you cannot simply repress half of the colors, insisting on only using the few that you began with. Rather, seek to transcend the ever expanding palette, without painting the whole thing one color, whether white washing or mixing everything to brown. Hold the tension between these differences, and appreciate the symphonic compositions such a range allows. This year, I've sought to accept the colors in my palette as reality, while also acknowledging my own power to control their application in service of my vision, whose realization will then influence what I accept in the future as my reality.
Still Life with Flowers, Insects and a Shell, 1689, Maria van Oosterwijck
I usher in 2015 with Rose Oud as a testament to blissful balance. Rose personifies the feminine queer, in that it is both expressively beautiful and historically used to alleviate grief, while the smoky, leathery oud adds strength to the presentation. Though my life is constrained by very real and often frustrating limitations, my dreams do not have to be. In terms of my art and my self expression, I alone am the creator, and my creations will influence what is accepted as standard. 2014 was a time of coming up against barriers, of reckoning with the mechanics of my industry and the gay community, and of calculating my own place in relation to this reality. The key is to see myself from both sides: how I am perceived and how I feel, what is available to me and what I dream of, what exists and what I bring into existence. 2014 was focused on the former of each of those dichotomies, and 2015 will be focused on the later. 2015 is a year to follow my bliss, despite physical and social limitations, and by doing so, I may find those limitations are not as concrete as they first appeared.
I received this bottle of vintage Le Galion Snob, likely from the early 50s, from one of the many angels on MakeupAlley's swap. My attempts to locate her real online identity to reference in this blog have been fruitless. All I know is that many years ago, she spent an unforgettable summer in Boston. Knowing I was from Boston endeared me to her, and so she reached into her extensive vintage perfume collection to gift me this bottle, which given my penchant for rose and tuberose, she recommended over my suggested Joy decant. She was right.
Snob has a haughty edge and a dark, heavy feel for a floral bouquet, due to the green top notes and spicy dry down that subtly frame this otherwise ornate floral: a bouquet of rose, jasmine, ylang ylang, carnation, lily of the valley, and tuberose. Paul Vacher, the perfumer behind the original Miss Dior and Diorling, created this overlooked fragrance from 1952, whose obscurity is due to a copyright antagonism with Patou as described by Perfume Shrine. A Basenotes reviewer calls Snob, "both lighter and denser" than Joy, another calls it "sprightlier." The initial aldehydis burst of bergamot, lemon, neroli, and hyacinth gives this floral its spright, while the musky, woody base of vetiver, civet, sandalwood, cedar, and a dose of tonka deepens the arrangement. I'd read Luca's gushing review of Joy, and had swapped for a 1980s bottle around the same time I tried Snob. My 1980s sampling was rich and floral, but somehow staid. Maybe I'd simply grown up in the sillage of Joy on too many women at church, fusing the scent in my mind with the expected. My sample of Joy felt frumpier than this practically antique bottle of Snob, which seemed to have come full circle in terms of sensory style.
Perhaps that is the reason Le Galion announced it would be rereleasing a full array of scents, including a revamped Snob. The new nose is Thomas Fontaine, and though the new bottle beautifully references the vintage bottle, it seems the composition will be more of a fruity-floral with a white musk base to appeal to modern tastes.
In the same way, MUA is doing away with their archaic swap at the end of 2014, much to my regret, for it was through strategic swaps that I amassed my library of perfume samples for next to nothing. MUA suggests users migrate to the new Swapidu, a modern site that supports connection to your other social media networks. Everything you list for swap has your avatar next to it, assuring others of your identity and personality, and becoming another part of one's interconnected internet presence, your personal brand. Yet my attraction to MUA was the mystery of connecting with incognito usernames and receiving their surprising packages in the mail, often filled with generous extras and unexpected gifts, inspiring faith in the kindness of strangers. Alexis Avedisian wrote a beautiful meditation on the slowly obsoleting Livejournal, where under pseudonyms and within secret communities, we had a different, at times more honest, way of communicating. Now, instead of being a place to escape my legitimate reality, the internet is where I legitimize myself. Rather than taking down my front on the internet, I perfect it. Rory Gory was constructed on the internet as a queer escape, but in time it has become my true identity.
Right after I was gifted this beautiful vintage bottle of Snob, the perfect olfactory accessory to my vintage haute macabre look, I went to a winter solstice show in Somerville with Ruby Ridge and M△S▴C△RA. The obscure characters witch house bands used made them difficult to pronounce and impossible to search for on the internet; but they had the added effect of keeping these scenes secret and their players anonymous, contained within very specific communities online and offline. Our internet had grown up with us, becoming a professional space and a hyperreality. Anonymity was sought in dark clubs, where underground scenes lived, where raw emotions could be experienced honestly through heavy beats, colored lights, the scent of warm bodies. Online, I began to know who everyone was that I met: their digital trail was manicured to lead directly to the person they wanted you to see. Offline, in these dark, messy, creative spaces, I never quite caught the names of those dancing around me, but in these tangible realities, it became easier to be myself.
"I believe that if we are honest with ourselves, that the most fascinating problem in the world is 'Who am I?' What do you mean? What do you feel when you say the word 'I, myself'? I don’t think there can be anymore fascinating preoccupation than that because it's so mysterious. It's so elusive. Because what you are in your inmost being escapes your examination in rather the same way that you can't look directly into your own eyes without using a mirror, you can’t bite your own teeth, you can’t taste your own tongue and you can’t touch the tip of this finger with the tip of this finger. And that's why there's always an element of profound mystery in the problem of who we are." Alan Watts
The events of the past week have been deeply discouraging, and though I've been embedded in that reality on my other social media networks, in this blog today I'd like an escape. The perfumery of Comme des Garçons is a portal into another world, an androgynous, angular, abstract future that I long to fast-forward to. From the minimal bottles to the synthetic notes, they create an otherworldly space to inhabit now. The brand's layered, complex compositions eschew tired traditions in favor of bold new styles all their own.
Mark Buxton, master perfumer and self-proclaimed hedonist
Mark Buxton's 3 is the third generation of the original CdG perfume line, and it holds a special place in my heart for its strange and wonderful atmosphere. It's slightly masculine of center, with its woody, spicy, smokey notes, yet like almost all CdG perfumes, it could smell wonderful anywhere on the gender spectrum. The masculine tag is likely affixed due to the initial impression of basil, clary sage, and mandarin against Lebanese cedar, birch essence, and sandalwood. These notes remind me of cool summers in New England forests, my feet in the dirt and my skin covered in herbal bugspray.
Yet, also present is a surprising floral bouquet of rose, jasmine, magnolia and cassis which adds an aura of beauty to this otherwise stark composition. The generous heaping of rose oxide is striking, and Thomas of Escentual describes it best:
"Utilising an “overdose of rose oxide” blended with cassis, CDG 3 is a sharp, cold and milky perfume that evokes the image of a sparse, minimalist and futuristic environment. It is perhaps one of the most underrated perfumes to be released by the brand."
I couldn't agree more. Perhaps the fame of the first and second CdG perfumes by Mark Buxton overshadowed the third, or perhaps it is simply too peculiar for the mainstream. There are so many facets to this unique composition, and all of them take me away from this world to an ideal future, a place of innovation and equality. Unlike the many florals I review that have an eye to the past, 3 has no interest in what has been, and is rather looking towards what could be: flowers that have not yet evolved, a society that has not yet been realized, planets that have not yet been discovered. Let's go there.
Frederic Malle's Une Fleur de Cassie, a wonderfully modern composition by Dominique Ropion, is at first blush disarmingly girlish and lush. My initial impression is of a powdery floral bouquet, harkening back to a mid-century lady's perfume, but reimagined in a distinctly contemporary way. I'm drawn in by a developing complexity between the innocence of the mimosa flower and the sensuous quality of the cassia absolute.
"that precious trait of innocence we associate with childhood, the sugar-spun scent close to heliotrope without the almondy nuances, soft like a cloud, dreamy like the first ray of spring sun on the February tree branches, lively and luminous like a promise of happiness."
Perfume Notes praises Une Fleur de Cassie as the "gold standard mimosa," and Fragrantica's Elena Vosnaki delivers an incredible description of the relationship between mimosa and acacias, from which the essence of cassie is derived,
"Acacia is this enigma: a floral, seemingly innocent component but nuanced with human warmth, comforting yet with an almost too intimate facet if you give it enough attention."
While mimosa is jubilant and sweet, cassie is mysterious, nuanced, and carnal. These two emotionally complex notes are draped in rose and jasmine, played against the counterpoint of carnation, and grounded by a base of vanilla and sandalwood. Spicy, peppery carnation, as a counterpoint to florals, is now considered somewhat old-fashioned and reminiscent of a different era of perfumery. Perhaps it is that, and the refined note of bergamot, that give this scent its retro appeal, yet cassie's bold allure is my final takeaway. However classic the construction, its sum total is decidedly modern.
a perfect scent for FKA Twig's concert tonight at the Regent
It is a joyful week: as Laura Palmer prophesied from the Black Lodge, TwinPeaks is fulfilling its destiny and returning to the air on Showtime in 2016, 25 years after the series finale. On Vashon Island, not far from the shooting locations of Twin Peaks, Zola Jesus secluded herself to write Taiga, which was then recorded in Los Angeles with David Lynch's producer Dean Hurley and released this week. To celebrate such a glorious confluence of artistry, I'm offering up another Twin Peaks perfume consultation, this time for one of my personal favorite characters: Audrey Horne.
Audrey Horne of Twin Peaks, played by Sherilyn Fenn
What scent clings to her sweater on this cool fall day, its sillage preceding her through the corridors of the Great Northern? What bottle did she swipe from the Horne's Department store perfume counter while investigating Laura Palmer's connection to One Eyed Jacks? What scent could evoke the sweetness of youth, yet also a timelessly classic femininity? Undoubtably Robert Piguet's Visa:
Robert Piguet's Visa, vintage
Visa was composed in 1945 by iconoclast and French master perfumer Germaine Cellier, who is also responsible for Piguet's legendary femme Fracas and butch Bandit, as well as the original Vent Vert for the house of Balmain (Greta Garbo's signature scent). Yet alas, but for this enticing image taken from a Turkish blog called Perfume Curiosity, I do not have access to a vintage bottle of the 1945 composition (Special Agent, if there's any way in the world that you can hear me right now- please help me find a bottle of vintage Visa). Visa was re-released in 2007, adeptly re-imagined by Aurélien Guichard, and I was able to snag a bottle of pure parfum during a flash sale at Beauty Encounter. The eau de parfum is also delightful and practical for a quick spritz, but the pure parfum oil has a luxurious softness that melds into my skin, remaining all day at the perfect volume, never too harsh nor too faint. So let's imagine that in the late 80s, Audrey lifted an overstock bottle of this sublime scent, and perhaps by the 2016 season, she will be sporting the new composition (provided she is not deceased).
Robert Piguet's Visa, 2007 re-release
What many perfume enthusiasts define as classic, modern women may deem garish (or, god forbid, the dreaded derogatory phrase "old lady perfume"). Indeed, Tania Sanchez of Perfumes- The Guide, who had the luck to smell the original, insists that it is far closer to Jean Carles' Tabu and the reformation has more in common with Guichard's Chinatown for Bond No. 9. That being said, the rerelease is not just a run of the mill fruity floral: it is a fruity chypre with a leather-and-wood drydown, receiving a four star review from Sanchez and almost entirely good reviews on Basenotes. There's something about the mixture of sweet fruits and leathery chypre that even seduced the NonBlonde.
Audrey's dance at the Double R Diner
A youthful fruity-floral that is also a seductive classic chypre: what else could Audrey Horne wear? I think what is so endearing about her character is that despite her clear sex appeal, her innocence has not been stolen as Laura Palmer's was. Her teenage bluster and mischievous plans are ultimately motivated by her longing for true love, her hope for a career as glass-ceiling smashing FBI agent, and her honest intentions to help Agent Cooper solve the mystery of Laura Palmer's murder. So it makes sense that the opening of Visa is filled with the sweetness of peaches, pears, and vanilla. There is a hint of bergamot, creating an air of wealthy sophistication. This bold opening evolves into the middle notes of lush, romantic florals, with roses at the heart, surrounded by ylang-ylang, violent leaf, and orange blossom. It dries down to a warm base of leather, with accents of sandalwood, patchouli, and oakmoss. Perhaps it is something about the combination of rich fruit and wood reminiscent of Christmas, but I swear that in the drydown I smell a hint of Douglas fir.
Zola Jesus- Dangerous Days
Audrey Horne is an old soul in a new vessel. She has a wisdom beyond her years, alienating her from the other teenagers in Twin Peaks, but a youthful spirit that gets her into all kinds of trouble. She wants to be grown already, an FBI agent already, in love already, but here she is in high school, learning algebra ("In real life, there is no algebra."). There is something incredibly tender about that period in life, when you are so open and so ready for everything the world has to offer, both good and bad. Visa's audacious romanticism captures that sensation, and perfectly timed, Zola Jesus' Dangerous Days is the ideal anthem for it. Tim Saccenti's music video for Dangerous Days was shot in the forests of Washington, those same woods that hold the clues to Laura Palmer's death.
Tonight I'll be channeling Audrey Horne with a few liberal drops of Visa parfum for Zola Jesus' show at the El Rey, bringing to a close one of the best weeks ever. À bientôt!
There is a perfume for every mood and every moment, including this grand new chapter. J'Adore, my signature, is always appropriate, but there are times when I want to experience the comfort of what I know and the allure of the unknown simultaneously. I want to be true to my roots while moving forward; I want to be true to myself while transforming into someone new. This impossible combination is possible thanks to the French master perfumer Calice Becker, who is responsible for J'Adore and almost all the By Kilian perfumes. If my signature is "I love", then By Kilian's Beyond Love is the logical sequential progression.
By Kilian is the niche perfume brand of Kilian Hennessy, heir to Hennessy Cognac and grandson of the founder of LVMH. Calice Becker did a lovely interview with Michelyn Camen of CaFleureBon, who asked her to give a "Kilian anecdote." Calice Becker described Hennessy's "love at first sight" reviewal process of Beyond Love:
During the development of "Beyond Love," there was this moment that was most amazing. It was my first trial and Kilian smelled it and proclaimed it was "the one." It was love at first sight... or smell! He said to me, "Leave it. Don't ruin it. It is perfect." This was a magical moment. He is the only one in my career that has ever done this and I imagine the last!
Karen Black, Day of the Locust
And it is perfect, in an uninhibited, spontaneous, divinely inspired way. It begins with excitement- a bright, rash opening of green notes, coconut, and fiery tuberose. The heart of Beyond Love is tuberose upon jasmine upon tuberose, an accord that seems to build in volume on my wrists, begging to go out and paint the town red. Some have called this gorgeous scent the child of Fracas and Carnal Flower. Its youthful opening lacks the haughtiness of Fracas or the lewdness of Carnal Flower, yet it is undeniably tuberose, a flower summed up by Roja Dove as the "harlot of perfumery."
Lindsay Lohan, The Canyons
Tuberose has the distinct quality of being both light and dark at the same time; a bright white flower that smells of blood and meat when it rots. The energizing opening that demands to be taken out and into the night quickly darkens on the skin, transforming appropriately for a night of decadence. The first few spritzes of ostentatious euphoria deepen to an earthier, muskier, almost raunchy base. As if these complex florals couldn't become any more intense, ambergris (an evocative note which I've spoken about when describing Guerlain's Après L'Ondée) adds a sense of longing, even sorrow. As the night progresses, softer, melancholy jasmine pairs with warm ambergris to accentuate the ever expanding tuberose. This ongoing romance is intoxicating and addictive and tragically beautiful.
I try not to use the word "romance" when I speak of perfumes unless it is absolutely necessary, but in this case, it is absolutely necessary. There is something about this creamy, dreamy scent that captures my heart. Tuberose sums up the contradiction between what we expect women to be and what we want from them; the grace they must embody for polite society and the gory realities of the work their bodies perform. It conjures this conflict without dissonance, just as we expect a woman to. It is a powerful, yet supremely elegant perfume.
I have actually worked my way through a very large decant, and this entry marks the last drop. It is an unusual event for me- besides J'adore, I never finish bottles, decants, or even imps. Now that I have finally made it to LA, all roads lead to Lucky Scent.
Snow, snow, snow. It keeps snowing here, like the winters I remember from my childhood. In winter, we often don spicy scents, heavy like comfort food, slow to travel in the cold air. Especially around the holidays, these spicy scents are wonderful. Yet, there's a certain mood on these cold, quiet, snowy nights, after the holidays but before spring, where the only scent I want is #102 Winter 1972, from the CB Secret History Series. CB describes it as:
A field of untouched new fallen snow, hand knit woolen mittens covered with frost, a hint of frozen forest & sleeping earth
In Burning Leaves, the cold air is negative space in which the harmony of fire and maple leaves shine. In Winter 1972, it is simply the negative space, cold and minimal and gorgeous. There is a hint of wool, and a hint of earth, and everything else is just winter. It is a love letter to that time of the year that CB describes as "a time to rest, a time to remember and to look forward... a quiet time to watch the stars and have hope."
Walden Pond frozen over
The festive scents of winter- spices, Christmas trees, fires- are all very romantic, but there is something incredibly underrated about the stark beauty of winter. Everything becomes black and white and silent. There is an intimacy to be felt with both your own thoughts and with the starry night sky.
This scent is part of the CB Secret History Series, or scents made in reference to a particular memory of the perfumer. Yet these memories remain secret, because scent cannot explain, it can only evoke. CB describes the way these Secret History scents function with a Joseph Conrad quote, "we live as we dream: alone.” In a culture where self-documentation and status updates are so important, these scents remind us of what can never really be shared. The memory of a winter in 1972 is hidden from me, but in this beautiful, blank scent my own secret history emerges.
It's been quite some time since I remember Walden Pond freezing over completely. The past few winters have been inconsistent, with record-breaking snowstorms being followed by weeks of 60 degree weather. Weather has generally become warmer and more erratic here. Yet this fall and winter were perfect, living up to every bit of nostalgia I have for New England. Fiery fall foliage followed by a white Christmas followed by a cold, snowy winter.
My mom and I went to walk at Walden Pond, as we did during the fall, but now we could walk straight across it. I was nervous though, because I've seen too many PSAs about children falling through ice and sinking in their heavy winter clothes to a frozen death. I also have a very vivid imagination.
At certain points, where the sun had warmed the foot prints, the ice had melted a little. I stopped at each one, pointing out the water as proof that the ice was melting. My mom carefully checked each one, testing it with her mitten and then proclaiming, "It's frozen solid!". It was as if I was still a child who needed to be comforted by her absolute certainty. It was so sweet that I kept doing it even though I knew the pond was frozen, playing the child so my mom could play her role.
In the distance, you can see the cabin on the edge of the beach, where Walden Pond is open for swimming in the summer. I think the only reason I ever leave New England is so that I can come back.
She told me so in a dream last night, and a giant took my signature rose gold Blood Milk Obsidian tomb ring.
CB I Hate Perfume's #305 Burning Leaves, from the CB Experience Series, is exactly what it sounds like. It is the smell of leaves, burning. CB's description states, "The smoke of burning maple leaves - pure & simple."Lucky Scent expands on this description, but the two significant notes remain smoke and maple. As it dries, the sugary maple note melds into the skin. What begins as a fire fades into a trace of smoke on sweet skin. But what strikes me, in the top notes and the fade down, is that smell of cold air- the negative space around this dramatic perfume. It's like you can smell the bite in the breeze that carries the smoke away.
#305 Burning Leaves, available in perfume absolute and water perfume
It's so simple and so obvious that at first I questioned it. But wouldn't Laura wear something sexier?
The tragedy of Laura Palmer's sexuality is that from a young age, she is abused and objectified by almost ever single man she knows, including the adults most responsible for her. She is so many things to so many people- the daughter, the prom queen, the girlfriend, the playgirl, the sweetheart, the whore, the best friend, the victim- yet how many of these identities were hers alone? The mystery of Laura Palmer was an attempt, after the fact, to sift through the secrets, layers, and identities in search of the real one. Each facet is testified through the character who had projected that particular identity onto her, since she is no longer there to speak for herself. But even in life, was she ever there to speak for herself? Was she ever allowed to?
The other female characters on the show (save for maybe Nadine and the Log Lady) are very classic- curves, red lips, curled hair- conforming to a distinctive 50s via the 80s style that became Twin Peaks. Yet Laura Palmer's style is nondescript, girl next door, morphing to adjust to the situations she finds herself in- at home, with boyfriends, at the Roadhouse, in the woods. She doesn't have to manicure herself to be an object of desire, because objectification follows her no matter what she wears or does. It feels as though her sex appeal was something hoisted onto her, rather than her own invention.
Laura Palmer worked at a department store perfume counter, and there perhaps she'd don Obsession to push sales. At school maybe she'd wear Love's Baby Soft. At the Roadhouse I could see her choosing Charlie. A scent for each costume, each identity created by someone else for her to wear. Yet alone among the Douglas firs, what scent inspires her character?
CB's Burning Leaves is an ode to the memory of raking leaves with his father and the lost innocence of childhood. I don't think there could be a more perfect perfume to summarize Laura Palmer.
Through the darkness of futures past The magician longs to see One chants out between two worlds Fire walk with me
Where have I been these past two years? Working on a little film called The Audience:
My film should be coming out by the end of this year, but in the meantime, I'm moving to LA- the home of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab and Lucky Scent.
Much to my regret, I had to downsize some of my perfume collection in preparation for the move. I also had to sift through a huge number of possessions- including a very large collection of Wrapped in Plastic magazines (they're coming with me). As I was downsizing, I made decants of all my BPAL, covering myself in perfume oil. This is a great way to get inspired to write again. It's time for a revival.
So where have I been? When I last wrote, I was singing praises to my Dior job... how am I going to succinctly recap the past two years? Let's just say there's a lot of material to draw from. In the next few days, I'll have another review up. Hint:
