7-20: dad was always good at reading people’s intentions. 7-9: whenever my mind begins to take over, i am reminded that if i follow its twisted logic i'll end up shattered by air particles. what might it mean to polish our pain? * why go through all of that when another life is under our noses? i say, i do, i fall asleep while whispering foreign pet names. ☼ i was so close that i conflated up with down right before i melted into the salty pavement. so close that the smell of city garbage didn't make me gag -- it was almost nice --, like a whiff of fresh laundry but with clothes made out of candle wax. so close that i almost broke out in song. so close that my ears leaked sweet liquid containing secrets authored only by the tabloids. ☼ i bet you wouldn't know, that ** 7-7: ! https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/98/Kennerley_Old_Style_Swashes_cropped.jpg __ chanel no. 5 l'eau __ i used to have a bottle of the original no. 5 during my college years for some strange reason. i wore it occasionally in the colder months since it had a smoky/sultry vibe despite it claiming to smell like soap. i eventually sold my chanel no. 5 on ebay along with the chanel no. 19 i had, most likely when i lived in california and needed the extra cash. chanel fragrances aren't easy to pull off imo. the older ones tend to lean heavily on already overpowering notes (aldehydes, musk, powder), the newer ones might be trying too hard, and the more interesting fragrances aren't easy to find outside of nordstrom and sacks/bergorf/those kinds of places. so unless you want to make a blind purchase online, you have to visit a stuffy department store to try out the interesting chanel options. no. 5 and no. 19 are typically written off as "old lady scents" by younger people, which i think helps explain no. 5 l'eau. it is meant to be a fresh take on the classic -- bright, youthful, effervescent, etc. it opens with beautiful citrus notes and florals, and at the base, i smell the wood that i remember from the classic no. 5. as it dries down, it's more woodsy than citrusy and there's vanilla present, too. a lot of people have mentioned no. 5 l'eau's limited lasting power; in my experience it becomes a skin scent after an hour or two, which i don't mind. i mean i wish it were cheaper but whatever. no. 5 l'eau blends nicely with some of my other fragrances. i am currently wearing a mix of tag sandalwood oil, my unnamed body spritz, chanel no. 5 l'eau, and keiko mecheri clair obscur. i love how the last two perfumes intermingle with each other. i feel like grandma, reincarnated as a potted plant that grows flowers in the spring. i feel grounded and earthy and up for adopting an italian greyhound after errands (unplanned, on a whim). * * * edited to add: i have been thinking about the sudani practice of layering multiple fragrances and how it clashes with western conventions. many years ago, i remember watching a youtube video of some fragrance guru explaining how to properly wear perfume -- not layered or lathered, just dabbed on the neck and wrists or sprayed in the air before walking into the mist. whatever lol, we don't do that and it feels gratifying to wear something from chanel (with all of its colonial baggage) in a manner that coco would probably scoff at. that said, i try to make my layers light and breezy so as not to bother folks. * * * not sure why it took me so long to write this one, but i told myself that it can wait and i think that's true of a few other things that are on my mind. even though there are many things that can wait, i find that honest and open conversations are very important, that expressing boundaries helps preserve the relationships that most matter to us. some stuff can wait and other things demand more immediate attention, when the moment presents itself and folks care to do the work. __ diptyque do son __ i remember buying this fragrance one or two years before the pandemic hit. i was in my late twenties and living in chicago, and i was beginning to elevate my fragrance selections. feels like forever ago tbh. i had a cute little apartment in kenwood, steps away from chaka khan’s high school and maybe a block away from my favorite greasy spoon diner, valois. i took the bus to work and walked to campus to get lunch or visit special collections or browse new books at the seminary co-op. it was as if i was back in college, and after a couple years, i felt like i needed to try something else out. before do son, i proudly wore serge lutens a la nuit. i bought a used bottle off of ebay because most of my income went to my oakland rent (this was when i lived in california, a few years before i moved back to chicago). in a previous review, i made fun of my taste back then but i also get it. how can anyone have good taste when they pay rent in the bay? do son reminds me of my chicago energy. it’s warm and ambitious but also solid and semi-serious. it has a way of shielding me from other smells while also encouraging me to live my life. but the shield is significant and potentially limiting, maybe. i’m starting to realize that i might be too humble these days, and that i’m much slower to move & pursue things compared to when i lived in chicago. i think this is mostly good because it means i’m growing up, but i also don’t know about it. i need to revive my chicago energy while also channeling it in the right places and at the right moments. i love chicago. it’s my favorite city because it’s where i formed a solid identity and voice thanks to the folks i met & befriended. but i’m not twenty-something anymore. i’m grandma and i know myself a bit better today. i don’t need to strive for solid — i can soften up some. i love do son and will continue wearing it over the summer, in places that are not chicago and in chicago, too. __ theodoros kalotinis jasmine of athens __ my mom cooked fried eggs yesterday, which we call bayd 3yoon in sudan. bayd 3yoon literally translates to egg eyes. it’s an interesting phrase that makes me wonder about similar body-food analogies that are found in english and our impressions of them. are kidney beans a popular food, for example, or is the analogy unappealing? is it the body that’s not appetizing, or the english language? when preparing bayd 3yoon, my mom heats both oil and ghee on the pan before frying the eggs, and she adds a generous amount of black pepper and salt near the end. when the pan is very hot and the eggs are still frying, she spoons hot grease over the yolks, then adds a small amount of milk or water and covers the pan to trap the steam. near the end, the entire house smells buttery and warm with a subtle pepper backdrop, and the resulting eggs are bouncy & crispy & semi-soft, like al dente but for eggs. my mom makes eggs that don’t at all taste eggy and i don’t know how she does it. i know i just described the process but i don’t think i could replicate it. maybe i’ll try someday, but i’m fine with not knowing. close your eyes and imagine a world in which fried eggs are a dessert. that’s what this fragrance is — fried eggs in dessert form, prepared with a small bowl of banana candies nearby, somewhere in the kitchen. you can’t see the banana candies but you can smell them. you can’t feel or taste the candy and you find yourself daydreaming about childhood sugar highs and belly laughs as an escape. the candy is right in front of you and also nowhere to be found. it’s in your mouth and discontinued at the same time. i remember going to bath & body works as a high school teen and genuinely thinking that i had good taste in fragrances. i remember thinking i had good taste in 2016! jasmine of athens is like an evolved memory of the naiveté that informed my younger self’s taste in perfume. it’s wholesome and curious — a handmade mashmallow that’s shaped like a fox — a long hug that lingers after pulling away, days or weeks later. it’s not the same thing as before, but it can’t help but relate.