Random: What a way to spend Easter!

Remember to enter the drawing for O de Lancome, YSL In Love Again and Silences samples! Leave a comment to enter. Deadline is Sunday, April 19, midnight US EDT.



Oh, go ahead and host an Easter egg hunt for the neighborhood kids. Just don’t, you know, put out any eggs.

Configuring a new computer (my old one crashed). This one is a Mac. I keep waiting for it to jump up and make me coffee but so far it just sits there being all white and shiny and cool and everything.

Wait a second. I have a husband for the coffee thing.

Wow! Macs sure are cool!

SL Nuits de Cellophane sample arrived! (sniffing sound) ...and?

Rosine Rose d’Homme. If there was such a thing in the U.S. as a man willing to wear this I’d follow him down the street. Oh, wait a second....that’s me!

....and Habit Rouge. I’ve read that it’s the signature scent of one Keith Richards, the very pinnacle, the summit, the alpha and the omega, of wasted, pre-embalmed grandeur.

Q: What will survive the Apocalypse? A: Cockroaches, and Keith Richards.

Narciso Rodrieguez for Her EDT: There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s pleasant. But you know what? I just don’t like musk.

“Skin scent?” Hunh? If you want to smell like skin, don’t wear scent.

Remember how rich in olfactory phenomena the average American household was once? We’d dye Easter eggs and the kitchen would smell like vinegar for a week.

Somehow I can’t imagine that happening now. It would be exhaust-fanned/house-fanned/filtered/Lysol’d/Plug-In’ed right off this mortal coil, chop-chop.

Iris Silver Mist. I tried. I mean, I really tried. I really, really did. No, really! I did! I swear to God!

Look for my sample (with a generous amount left) under “Olfacta” on MUA.

Should we be stocking up on vintage perfumes now?

I’m going to miss the Chypres. The real ones. You know, the ones that’ll kill you.

Paraphrasing Gore Vidal on Bill Maher’s show: (when asked by a quivering-with-admiration Bill about religion in a mixed marriage):

“It’s simple. One week you don’t go to her church. The next week, you don’t go to yours.”

Happy Easter/Pesach/Passover/Greek Easter/Oestre, everybody!

More at Random

What is the deal with romance novel reviews on Perfume Bloggers anyway? Aren’t there enough romance novel review sites? Sorry, but perfume seems to me a higher art than soft-porn-for-women.

I gotta get out of this place. Somewhere without a cat box.

Saw Peter Bogdanovitch’s film about Tom Petty on Sundance over the weekend. In case you think Tom’s a dumb Southern cracker, remember this: he took on MCA Records. Twice. And won. Definitely worth seeing.

Just finished Rob Walker’s book “Buying In” about stealth marketing. Apparently there are many people willing to act as buzz-agents for products like…sausage? And they don’t even get much free sausage!

I’m sniffing my way through the Rosines. Aahhh, bliss. More later.

Even notice how the kid in the comic strip “Brewster Rockit” gets hurt a lot? He’s obviously based on Wesley in “Star Trek: TNG.” Funny stuff.

I never liked that kid anyway.

Speaking of “Star Trek: TNG” my husband screwed up and taped the “Borg Queen” episode over our wedding video.

I thought this was funny. No, really! I did!

Speaking of stealth marketing, isn’t it interesting how Fragrantica gathered all the perfume blogs together and…hmmmm.

Big news from the Art World: people are buying cheaper paintings. Really?

Ray Pettibon. Any other fans? I used to have a bunch of his Black Flag flyers. Threw them out by mistake when we moved. Now he’s on the cover of “Art in America.” Oh well.

Wore some Coty Chypre over the weekend. Man did it smell good. Made me think of Joan Crawford in her shoulder-pad days.

“Big Love” starts up again on HBO soon. In two seasons, it morphed from snickering schoolboy joke about a guy trying to satisfy three wives to…something else, complete with extended whack-job Mormon families, business problems, the neighbors…I can’t wait.

Click.

Random Thoughts

(Uma – winner of the vintage “Heaven Sent” drawing – claim your sample by leaving a comment! )



Don’t wear perfume when you have stomach flu. You’ll never want to smell that one again, ever. (There is much behavioral research that supports this theory.)

I think I’m done with heliotrope.

Chicken soup has a definite, er, indolic quality.

Bill Maher is brilliant.

Critics say Daniel Craig is the best James Bond because he reveals his interior life. Who wants James Bond to have an “interior life?” Give me the stoic bon vivant in “From Russia with Love!”

Mind-candy posts about classic movie stars and perfumes they wore get the most hits. (Look for one soon in these pages.)

Religious-right pinheads: it’s over. Don’t forget to turn out the light and lock the door on your way out! (p.s. Alaska is waiting.)

Jack White.

I always said vinyl would come back.

Thanksgiving food is way overrated. But the smell of turkey roasting is perfume that says “I’m home.”

Sick of food/travel shows where the hosts gobble down whatever it is and then make beatific faces and orgasmic noises at the camera? I am! (The latest offender: "On the Road Again: Spain" starring Mario, Gwyneth, some condescending New York food writer and his Spanish Tootsie Actress)

Food writers in general.

I have just one word for you, Benjamin. Plastics.

Do I really need another Skankmonster? Even in decant? (Well of course I do!)

Another winner in the presidential race? Saturday Night Live. Now we can all go back to doing something else, like most of us have been doing since about 1978.

Get three people in a room, right away you have politics.

The worst vice of them all? Ad-vice.