Tonight, I'm wearing: on one arm, Neil Morris Spectral Violet. On the other, Neil Morris Gotham and Fetish. Spectral Violet lists galbanum alongside violet, which is fine by me. I like it a lot. Fetish is nice. Gotham is interesting. I have a bag full of Morris samples. Today I organized all my testers, my odds and ends and decants. By organized I mean I took them out of the drawer they were kept in and put them in a plastic, sealable tub. I spent some time with all the Neils again, having only really smelled them once, and quickly. Previously they were pleasant enough, but something about the freezing cold brought them to life. They're unusual and compelling and I intend to wear some tomorrow. I need a full day to judge.
Also revisited: Michael Storer's Monk (which I love), and the Ava Luxe samples I own (Midnight Violet, Cafe Noir, Madame X, Milk, Oiellet Blanc, out of which I least like Milk and most like, as in can't get enough of, Cafe Noir). Earlier today I'd ordered some Ava Luxe for myself. Film Noir, Midnight Violet, Biba, Queen Bess. What is it about these small perfumers that seems even more fascinating than the Big Guys (and Girls)? Somehow, it seems even more incomprehensibly heroic, these lone men and women making perfume, without the backing of big companies or teams of decision makers. What they do seems so quiet and hopeful, shows such perseverance. The fact they have fans seems astonishing, given the noise made by bigger machinery.
Everyone's getting perfume this year. My mom, my dad, my friends, my enemies. I gave my dad Aramis. He wore it when I was growing up. He also wore Aramis 900. I think my own first fragrance was JHL. One of the firstm anyway. I hadn't smelled it since then, until a few months ago when, in a small town between here and my mother I stopped at a department store which stocked some. Verdict: It smells almost exactly like Youth Dew, and if it moves away from Youth Dew it's only to address Versailles.
My partner's co-worker is getting Lolita Lempicka. My friends are getting: Prada, Nu, Jaisalmer, and I can't say what else, in case they peruse this. Abigail's getting a whole box of perfume. I do know what I'm getting. Patou 1000 edp, Ormonde Woman, and Breath of God by B Never Too Bust To Be Beautiful. I'm thinking about nothing else the last few days. I plan to be in a mild narcotic coma induced by fragrance two days from now.
I'm finding it more of a struggle to maintain interest in people who are ambivalent about perfume. I have zero patience for those who are hostile toward it.
Why did I tell someone from out of the country I would ship things to her if she had them sent to me direct from the manufacturer? Someone please tell the person known as me I have plenty to do as it is.
Will I see Milk? Everyone's telling me to. I'm resisting. I'm sure it will be great. I'm sure it's swell. But I'm just not in the mood to watch someone's tragedy in the making. And before you revoke my card, let me point out the fact that I didn't really want to see The Passion of Joan of Arc, either, and not just because it was silent. More and more, I'm looking for opportunities to laugh.
Everyone's getting cookies, too. Otherwise, I'll eat them all.