SOTD: Byredo Pulp, or Engulfed in Fruit

Kitty! No, he has nothing at all to do with the post.

After twenty-four hours, and more than one washing, the Salome on my arm was still distinct and gorgeous. I probably could have just left it there and considered myself perfumed for the day.

But I wanted to put on something else, while this uncharacteristic rebirth of perfume interest is going on. I considered Byredo Blanche, as a sort of amusing contrast, but it occurs to me that I don't see Blanche as merely shy, but distinctly opinionated about her quiet soapy cleanliness. I think that there would be squabbling, or perhaps silent treatment, if they had to share the same person.

So I dug out my decant of Byredo Pulp instead. A big squashy heap of slightly overripe fruit seems like an affable companion to Salome. And it was.

But it was big. Big. BIG. One spray on the back of my neck (for wafts) and one on my other arm (for direct-sniff updates) and I was drowning in that heap of fruit. I ended up doing the cooking-oil-wash on my arm, and washing the back of my neck, to get it down to only a little too much. I'm going to decant this to a roller, for maximum control. Or maybe mix one drop into a gallon of unscented body cream. Or something.

I don't think that I used to have this problem with Pulp. Is it a summer versus winter thing? Or the long interval of little perfume wearing?

Odd.

Also, that kitty is staring at me.

That is all.

Image: By Heikki Siltala-catza. Wikimedia Commons.

Rambling: Rambling

This post was going to be about Papillon Salome. Salome is glorious. It's also hard to put words to. Well, it's hard to put PG-rated words to. Y'know? And this is a pretty PG blog.

So apparently no Salome review today. But I enjoyed it, from the shocking top notes to the final sweet, powdery, but still distinctly animalic drydown.

(Hmm. Would the Neighborhood Sample Pass enjoy Salome? Is that idea madness? I just finally broke down and ordered a bottle of Shalimar extrait. Salome, Shalimar, and... Muscs Koublaï Khän? I'm not doing that Etat Libre d'Orange thing, nope nope nope. Nope.)

(It's madness, isn't it? Yes?)

(I could make up for it next round with a 'soapy' theme.)

And there is no NaNoWriMo update to speak of. I suspect that my NaNoWriMo experience this year is going to collapse to no more than, "Try to write more than usual in November."

I Dressed again. I've been wearing the skirt in the first photo, a black-and-white denim-weight cotton houndstooth with a hem bound in black bias binding, a lot. Over and over and over. And over. So I bought the fabric to make another one, this one a tan-and-white denim-weight cotton herringbone, with a hem bound in tan bias binding.

From a distance, they're just going to look gray and beige, but I know that they have pretty woven patterns, see? I have another one in a tiny-black-and-white-pattern in wool, and more pieces of assorted tiny-patterns in the fabric stash. I'll have a whole collection of tiny-pattern skirts.

I haven't had a Coke in...er...four days? Five? So it's not surprising that I'm being stalked by a migraine. I'm trying to drown it in iced tea.

I've been trying to Tweet more, because I'm trying to understand Twitter. Just because. I couldn't really tell you why.

But I'm still pretending that Facebook doesn't exist.

I think that's all.

Perfume: Another Take on Seasons

So, I've posted (here, here, here, here, here and here) about the effect that the seasons have on my fragrance tastes. Traditionally, the pattern has been that as day lengths shift after the solstice, I gradually lose interest in perfume, and then as we're past the curve and roaring into the next season, I get excited again. Well, that's how I remember the pattern; not all of those posts agree. This winter is a new twist--as we edge into the seasonal turn, my interest in perfume is climbing, not falling.

I want sweaty or dirty or syrupy perfumes. Right now, I'm having a strong craving for MCMC Kept. (I'm in Portland, where most of my perfume collection isn't.)  I'm also eager for the right occasion for my shiny new birthday bottle of Papillon Salome, which Now Smell This just gave 7 on the skank scale.

And I'm thinking that I really must get another bottle of Aftelier Cepes & Tuberose, because I don't want to run out someday.  And after reading EauMG's review of Thorn & Bloom Orange Blossom, I'm craving it without ever having smelled it.  (But Thorn & Bloom wants fifty dollars for samples. Meep! Also, meep!)  And I'm craving the freshly-bathed-soapy-cat smell of Caron Alpona.

Dirty perfumes. Mmm.

Image: By Dwight Sipler. Wikimedia Commons