This spicy green carnation is a… bit wild. It’s the sort of scent you encounter while walking innocently outside through someone’s garden path. It hits you and suddenly you feel affected by fragrance. I can almost smell some sort of ozonic tinge to this as well… And perhaps a tuberose? However, it is appropriate and despite the brazen and gorgeous spices (cinnamon? cloves?!) it’s very well mannered.
A spicy orris mixes with florals and oakmoss right at the outset of Stradivari (Prince Matchabelli 1950)… This bold, sensual and intoxicating scent is both demure and alluring all at once. Perfect for day and yet so frothy and rich that it hints constantly at dim warm lights and mysterious shadows. It’s a great example of a smoky, leathery and yet prim green, woody floral that kept all hidden and lovely… However, the caveat should be noted that only in spring, very early summer, fall or winter weather could this contradiction happen… I imagine in hot weather Stradivari could only really fit the moment at night. At any rate, it’s a bit sublime.
Ultimately very musky, Balalaika is also a violet and bold Gardenia scent. The florals are green, spicy and woody. Doughy vanilla is sweet then smoky. Rosewood is aromatic like an old rosewood trinket box. The fragrance heats up as you wear it. Balalaika starts as a traditional woody floral, although somewhat mysterious, musky and sugary, but then develops into a simmering, hot vintage fragrance. And the orange, like a pomander ball, is dry, almost overly ripe and of course… spicy.
Top notes: mandarin orange. Middle notes: violet, gardenia and palisander rosewood. Base notes: woody notes, vanilla and musk.
Prétexte (Lanvin 1937) starts off bright and truly pretty with romantic and sublime florals. A delicate iris is dramatic and yet balanced by the castoreum and ladylike patchouli. Rose, sweet civet and elegant oakmoss are spacious and rather grand… staring off into a lush green and light expanse. And then comes a vanillic sandalwood with its soft, almond-like gentility. Matter of fact, vintage Pretexte is reminiscent of L’Heure Bleue in that regard… Of course, through it all vetiver and leather are crisp and refreshingly calm. And in the late drydown it becomes a smoky, musky, burning incense… This is a masterpiece…
Top notes: aldehydes, bergamot and narcissus. Middle notes: hay, rose, carnation, hawthorn, opoponax and iris. Base notes: leather, castoreum, patchouli, rosewood, ambergris, sandalwood, tonka, vetiver, civet, oakmoss
Rosa Thea (Bosari 1870 unknown) is a very pretty tea rose with possible hints of jasmine, lily, and green notes. I believe I detect a warm and soothing sandalwood and vetiver into the drydown and ylang ylang throughout. But despite the other hints (my guesses) this is a very definite rose.
I can’t figure some people out. Go figure. It’s not like people are all very complicated and unique or something. (Note sarcasm)
Anyway, I’m tired of being misunderstood too. Very misunderstood… And, of course, it’s not like this is an original feeling either. *sigh*
I’m pragmatic and analytical with a lot of feelings I keep very much in the back room of my soul. And I’m oddly not particularly typically “American” for some reason (even though I was raised here). And that combination, with a strong natural reserve and a dry sense of humor (also slightly slapstick) added… confuses people, I think.
And I’m good, I suppose. I’m a Christian. I’m moral… But I do do occasionally shocking things according to some folks, I guess. And I’m usually almost too honest. I offend people’s egos almost daily. I’m bad at faking reality.
And then… there’s… Prince Charming. That’s what I’m going to call him. And I’m sure if he reads this (he might) that he could find that name totally… annoying. And maybe that’s why I just picked it. I kind of want to annoy him because he seems just a bit too oblivious to how much and how deeply he affects me… And I know that name will affect him (not entirely positively).
He seems to think I’m not “smitten enough” with him or that my feelings aren’t authentic. For added difficulty, some people close to him seem to have encouraged this view.
But I do care about him as much as is sane, which is basically a whole hell of a lot. I’m just not obvious, crass or pushy about it. I don’t openly swoon and draw cute little hearts on the letter i or smile with my teeth and giggle.
When I’ve tried to do the “sexy girl who likes you act” in the past to make my feelings clearer to past romantic interests no one ever seems to think I actually mean it anyway. So what’s the point? Furthermore, I hate myself much too much afterward to continue with that fake parade of silliness. But apparently if I don’t act cutesy and over-the-top in a saccharine girly way I’m not feminine enough somehow? Or I’m cold? Too… complicated?
So… my “Tom” or a.k.a Prince Charming… The man who currently entertains my affections… doesn’t stand much of a chance for too much longer. That is, he doesn’t unless if he becomes beautifully stubborn and sincere in his feelings and intentions toward me. He needs to outsmart it all… Oherwise the prognosis for our romance isn’t good.
And really, I think this is the most odd time of my life. Truly.
For one thing, the ethics of it all is mind twisting. I have a husband (Mark) in an eerie, techinical and yet strangely genuine way who understands our separation but insists on not calling it that necessarily until its finalized and frankly he’ll have hope until I remarry. He did the opposite, of course, when we were first dating (refusing to call us a couple for a very long time). Ha!
I think, really, Mark’s astronomically stubborn. And frankly… it’s no coincidence in any way that I married him years ago despite it all. He’s so subtle and subversive at times it’s amazing… He often claims that he didn’t know what real romantic love was (or love in general) as a particular label until we dated. I believe him.
I still maintain that he could find someone to love more than me eventually and… that I’ll love him forever regardless because I adore his soul. We will. We’re good for each other in some way, even if it’s as friends. We give each other a sort of safe place emotionally… We’re allies.
And you can’t redo people. Again, we’re all profoundly original. There’s only one soul that is my Mark. There’s only one me. Some people might be similar but nobody is ever anyone but themselves. Ever. And why is that a bad thing? Of course, it never is.
I just wish Prince Charming would see that I don’t want anything but beauty. And his teeth… His chin. His… voice. They’re the only things about him as a sort of… persona… that aren’t basically perfect. Truly.
He seems in need of a sort of… perfection. At least in my eyes. And I, on the other hand, passionately want beauty.
My first serious boyfriend had large front teeth and a rather cocky sense of humor. He fashioned himself after that character on “How I Met Your Mother” who told everyone to, “suit up!” Now he, with his front teeth (he referenced them more than once), was definitely not a good match for me. I loved him slightly but definitely not enough… and he didn’t love me at all (he literally told me he was simply incapable of it). His “flaws” were truly… awkward. Because the beauty we had or were able to have between us wasn’t present almost at all.
Sorry if this is becoming cheesy…
Prince Charming, however, is very manly. He’s not a little boy who needs to play dress-up with his dad’s suits. He’s brilliant… Eloquent. Quick minded and clever. Fervent and aware. Extremely handsome. Dashing really…
But I don’t mend fences that refuse to be fences. If the wind blows too hard I just plant trees and let the roots sink in. And furthermore I don’t let people give me hell that I don’t deserve. So… basically I refuse to break his heart because either a. I’ll just break my own more severely for no good end or b. he’ll never understand how I see him so what’s the use in trying particularly hard? This paragraph might only make sense to me… Possibly.
He’s truly gorgeous. Truly… I don’t know what else to say about it.
So my romance with the older gentleman is basically finished. He was and is a very charming man but we don’t have any business being together really it seems. There are occasionally some personality traits and differences in upbringing that can’t be overcome. I guess. And anyway, I’m a young looking 33 and I think he felt… too old.
There is someone else. He’s a gorgeous man. Very intelligent. Eloquent. And I could fall flat on my face, madly, passionately in love in less than a microscopic moment. BUT he might be a bit of a Tom Buchanan type.
Tom Buchanan… You know the kind of man I mean. Husband of Daisy… The well educated, well connected, well-bred monster who rode beautifully and had sexy broad shoulders? That one.
I’m not sure. He could also be a charming throwback to a better time when I was in love with a truly attractive and daring soul who was genuinely amazing… A long time ago.
He could be a combination of both men. Matter-of-fact, that’d make sense.
I just don’t particularly want to bother with a “Tom” sort. They’re soo boring. Soo predicatable. Once you’ve met one you’ve met them all. Even if they’re sometimes lovely fathers and can humor you wonderfully when you most need and want it, it’s not worth it. I’d rather be “lonely” or at least searching.
He’s so handsome though. And we have excellent chemistry (or so it seems). And, it’s not like I haven’t “broken in” a Tom before. Men like that break easily in regard to me for some reason. The problem is, of course, that I want to be the “broken” one this time.
No crying… No horrible suffering. Just… warmly, and sweetly broken. I want and simply have to have the sort of thing that happens when you find someone who reads your heart and honestly loves you regardless.
I’m really just tired of being bored. Yes. BORED. I’ve realized that a lot of my romantic pain stems from a sort of strained, ugly boredom.
You see, I’m a writer, maybe and that’s a definite personality type (in my opinion). We tend to see people for who they actually are. And in that mess there’s not a lot that surprises us. We hope for a real shock. A good one. But often, it’s just the pits. A letdown. And it’s tragic, and draining and… infinitely tedious.
You come back from the sadness and malaise. But you’re less tolerant. Less patient… Or at least I am. So far.
You give less of yourself the next time because there’s less hope. You feel less pain but you also miss what you once had long ago or you dream about something better that you know very easily might never be. At least in this life.
It gets redundant. Horribly redundant…
You just keep wondering why the “boys” (of all ages) don’t get it. They’re not that special with they’re tired lines and crass sentiments. Why should you swoon for them? You could fake it, but why bother? That’s actually quite mean anyway.
If he’s sincere about a word he’s saying you hope he also has enough maturity, wisdom and thought to actually lift a trembling pinky to pursue you like a man. You hope he realizes that he needs to have courage because otherwise… what’s the damn point?!
I’m not a “contemporary woman” I guess. I don’t want to be bullied and refuse it. Vehemently. Yet, I like a man who remembers what it’s like to have both emotions and manliness. Remember? The sort of feeling men had before they were told that not crying meant that they were repressed and outdated. I’ve known a lot of men who didn’t cry easily and often they were deeper and more emotionally available than today’s weeping willows or the business minded “tough guy” who masquerades as the old sort.
No. I don’t hate men. I just feel disillusioned. A least for now… At least here in the US.
Eau de Cologne Quintessence by Agnel of Paris (Agnel 1900’s or so?) is very rare so I’m truly guessing at the notes in this vintage bottle. To my nose, punchy lemon, orange, rosemary, geranium, and eucalyptus at the start are refreshing. Then soft florals and fizzy orris root are combined with woody amber and later a rich styrax and musk. It’s very slightly and perfectly spicy, decadent and beautifully structured. Like a dense sort of breeze blowing from a much more romantic past wafts of this scent are nearly transformative and uplifting…