Scent Diary: 3/12/2013

The second of my three automated wake-up calls wakes me up at 6:09 AM. My physics midterm starts at 8. I eat Fruit Loops and pound a Five Hour Energy. It is deeply unpleasant.

I have literally six Lush body washes (The Olive Branch, Grass, Ro’s Argan, Dream Wash, and two varieties of Lush FUN), but I choose The Olive Branch for my shower this morning because citrus scents are supposed to be all energizing. I do not feel particularly energized, but it is hard to say whether it is my fault or The Olive Branch’s. One of my medications causes very vivid nightmares, so my sleep is never all that restful anyway.

The physics building is a fifteen minute walk away. It is raining. The cat mangled my last umbrella. I put on my Kate Nash Pandora station for the very wet walk. Mumford & Sons comes on. I hurriedly switch to my Disney Pandora station.

Normally I wear Jo Malone Black Vetyver Cafe when taking tests, the theory being that a coffee scent should keep me energized. But I was wearing Idole de Lubin EDT (sent to me by my gracious reader Allison) when I was studying last night, and we all know the studies about how you should wear the same scent when you prepare for and then subsequently take a test.

The midterm goes bizarrely well. I feel prouder of myself than I have in months, and reward myself with Pokemon and beauty blogs.

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Around 9:30, I realize that I need cookie dough more than I have ever needed anything in my life. I buy it at a nearby grocery store run by a Palestinian family. They sell lots of Middle Eastern food items, including rosewater. Last weekend I tried to make a cocktail with gin and rosewater, inspired by the gorgeous and effervescent TokyoMilk Gin & Rosewater. It was wretched, and I do not know if I will ever be able to trust TokyoMilk again.

Idole EDT has everything I could ever want in a perfume- warmth, spices, a prominent saffron note- except for lasting power. By 9:40, it was already time for a new SOTD. I chose creamy, peanut butter-y L’Artisan Bois Farine. Bois Farine is an excellent bedtime scent, but Five Hour Energies are not conducive to napping. I lay in bed and shake like an overexcited chihuahua for a good 45 minutes before finally giving up.

I test the new Jo Malone Ginger Biscuit during lunch. I am even less impressed than I was when I first tried it at Nordstrom. The ginger top note is attractive, but a generic Spicy Man Smell haunts the fragrance all the way down to the base notes. I am genuinely curious why the Sugar & Spice collection is so much worse than the Tea collection just a year before.

Lunch is tom yum soup and genmaicha tea, which tastes just like rice steam. I am still not very good at this whole taking pictures of your food thing.


Diary of a Mad Perfume Blogger

Saturday, January 14th: I manage to drag my father into a Lush store. This is significant because my father cannot smell. He lost his sense of smell after breaking his nose in a car crash before I was born. As a result, all perfumes smell the same to him, and he considers my perfume habit a bit frivolous and silly. He would ordinarily never accompany me into a perfume store, but I’m banking on Lush’s quirky image to persuade him. My father is an oddball. A terribly lovable oddball, of course, but he likes the weirdest things. He is currently trying to teach himself how to play the ukelele.

The Lush saleswoman very generously offers to demonstrate a bath bomb for us. She detonates a sparkly purple one named Phoenix Rising, which immediately begins merrily whizzing around the bowl. My father is tickled. Not surprising, considering that he is essentially a mad scientist. Okay, okay, “inventor”. He creates devices that detect breast cancer. I once had to help him radiate earthworms for one of his experiments. He goes home with a bath bomb and some wasabi-flavored Toothy Tabs. Victory!

The Lush saleswoman also compliments me on my new haircut. I have not in fact, gotten a haircut, but I go with it because nobody ever compliments me on my short hair (which makes me look vaguely like Snape).

SOTD: Lush Vanillary, a delicious caramelized vanilla, which I spray on while my father browses the bath bombs. Vanillary is even weirder than Serge Lutens Un Bois Vanille- where UBV uses woods, a natural accompaniment to vanilla, Vanillary incorporates a dissonant jasmine note.

Sunday, January 15th: My boyfriend Drew is home from Iowa today! We have a delicious dinner with my family at Benihana’s. Like the hibachi fiend I am, I eat every damn grain of fried rice and find myself carrying a food baby by the end of the meal. I decide to name the food baby Jessamina, after my Italian great-aunt. My father (remember the part where I told you he was an oddball?) enthusiastically invites Drew to go snowboarding with him tomorrow. Sadly, we have to get back to Baltimore.

SOTD: Cartier Baiser Vole, the only perfume that I remembered to bring in my purse. Unfortunately, the lovely lily fragrance wilts in the face of the hibachi grill.

Monday, January 16th: It’s MLK day! I decide to watch an Uhura-centric Star Trek episode to honor Dr. King, who famously convinced Nichelle Nichols not to quit the show. Nichelle had gotten fed up with William Shatner’s demands for more and more lines and screen time (Oh, Bill, you absolute cad), so she had handed in her letter of resignation the night that she met Dr. King. As he shook her hand, Dr. King told her that he was a huge Star Trek fan, that it was the only show that he allowed his children to watch.

Upon hearing that she was planning to quit, he gave the kind of speech that only MLK could: “[Your role as Uhura] validates what we are marching for, because three hundred years from today, there we are! And there you are! In all our glory and all your glory! And you CANNOT leave!” The next day, Nichelle Nichols marched into Gene Rodenberry’s office and asked him to rip up her letter of resignation. (I’m not going to lie: I tear up every time I hear that story!)

SOTD: Comptoir Sud Pacifique Vanille Mokha. I haven’t yet figured out how to use my housemate’s fancy new coffee maker, so I figure that a coffee scent is the next best thing.

Tuesday, January 17th: Great success! I have figured out how to use the fancy new coffee maker. The rest of my morning is less triumphant. Zelda has decided that she is no longer afraid of water. While I am very happy for her, this makes my bath time somewhat less peaceful than it used to be. Normally my morning bath is when I catch up on my favorite perfume blogs, but today’s bath mostly consists of trying to fend off an unreasonably vicious kitteh. Why is my cat so scary, you guys? I am almost positive that she is not supposed to be biting me this much. I am thinking of having a DNA test done on her. We know that she is half Siamese, but I suspect that the other half is jaguar or cheetah.

Later, Zelda, Drew and I catch up on Top Chef. The other chefs are being mean to my favorite contestant, Beverly. I pray that they will be struck with karmic retribution in the form of undercooked risottos and overcooked fish dishes. When the show ends, I get started on my class reading for tomorrow: Sophocles’ The Theban Plays. These include the story of Oedipus and his daughters. They are kind of super depressing. Spoiler alert: EVERYONE HANGS THEMSELVES. Because my study methods involve creating crudely-drawn, deeply unfunny comics about the material, I present to you: Oedipus Comics!

SOTD: Escada Rockin’ Rio. I needed something mindless and cheerful after all of that everyone hanging themselves business.

Diary of a Mad Perfume Blogger

So this is a new feature: I share a few stories from my week and talk about the perfumes that I wore during the week’s events. Please let me know if you think that I should make this feature permanent, or if this should be its first and last appearance.

Friday, January 6th: I am about to begin to a perfectly peaceful day of perfume shopping at Towson Town Center when my ex of four years calls and informs me that he is an hour away from Baltimore. I am, of course, in seven-year-old sweatpants (which proclaim in huge white letters that they were a party favor from Stefanie Milner’s Bat Mitzvah) and look about as put together as Ke$ha. While I have no issues with seeing my ex, who remains a good friend, I am quite grumpy that I will have to miss out on perfume shopping. Still, the day was not a total loss on the perfume front: my 6’5″ ex was able to help me reach some Lush bath bombs (Satsumo Santa and Cinders) that were shelved a wee bit high for a five-footer. I nod along as he tells me about his plans to work as a mining engineer in Australia, happy to hear that he is doing so well.

Saturday, January 7th: I am determined to make up for the perfume shopping that I was denied on Friday, so I return to Towson Town Center and hit up Nordstrom with a gift card. I buy a Cartier Baiser Vole gift set and delight in its gorgeous, photorealistic lily. It will be perfect for sorority events, which are all white dresses and faux virginity.

Sunday, January 8th: I spray on the playful Prada Candy and head down to our local pub just in time to watch the Steelers lose. Baltimore residents unequivocally loathe the Steelers, so everyone is in a good mood. One lady enthusiastically tells me that “Jesus done shown them justice” as she attempts to eat my french fries. I eventually give up and share them with her, and am rewarded with lovely stories about her grandchildren in Philadelphia. Jacob! Kaylee! Your grandma says hi!

Monday, January 9th: Today is the first day of my intersession class “The Fitzgeralds in Baltimore”, taught by a member of the Rockefeller family. I do my best to appear presentable, putting on a full face of makeup for the first time in months and brushing my hair so that I look a little less like Snape. Damn, I’m nervous. I know plenty about the Fitzgeralds, but very little about doing well in classes. I am non-neurotypical (this is a nice way of saying “a total aspie”) and am very prone to accidentally contradicting and/or offending professors. I rummage through my perfume collection and curse myself for not owning more intellectual perfumes, which turns into cursing myself for not being more intellectual in general. I eventually settle on L’Artisan Safran Troublant, which strikes me as the right choice to meet a beautiful Indian friend for lunch.

On my way to class, I notice a man attempting to fight a tree. The tree puts up a valiant resistance, but is ultimately no match for his fists of fury. I am surprised to find myself relating to the poor tree. I finally take my seat in the classroom and try not to feel too out of place at the 13th best university in the country.