The Regulars

When I lived out in Seattle a couple of years back, I drank Absinthe for the first time. It was Pernod and it was at a proper French Absinthe bar next to a busy street near Pike’s Market. At the time I was also wearing very vintage Myrurgia Suspiro Granada, which smells like the spicy, smoky glamor from the 1920’s that it is.

Something about all of these elements conspired together and I had the oddest “memories” come back to me. Once when my father was living in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina (ashamedly that was his Vietnam experience) he had a very vivid and lucid dream that he was a Civil War soldier running wildly through fields. He woke up and felt his heart racing and had the sense that the dream was more real than his present reality. He’s struggled to figure out how that fits into his Evangelical Christianity and it intrigues me. …I can’t say that these “memories” felt that real in a tangible sense but it did seem like they were a part of me like a true memory and not an imagination of some sort.

Anyway, I envisioned New York City. My family had had a lovely apartment they kept somewhere in Manhattan near a department store that I imagine Lucy and Ethel would’ve shopped at and I had lived there as an adult or something of that sort… And it was lovely during the 1950’s (?) but when NYC started to decline I felt it. It was like a tragic, foreboding sunset. And actually, something about the actual sunsets seemed to change too. (Yes. These were vivid and somewhat detailed “memories”.) Where New York had felt crisp and fast, like a tightly-wound, beautiful Swiss watch in the decades before it, it seemed…slower…and more smoggy… and…hot in the years of decline.

And the neighborhood we had our pied-à-terre in declined. Eventually, it was depressing to be there and we sold it? Or I sold it (maybe I bought it at one point?)? It felt like the death of a parent or a lover.

But truly, it was very weird and…sad. It made me miss a New York that may have existed but that I have never, obviously, “officially” been to.

I’ve also had odd “memories” of old ships.

If reincarnation fits with Christianity (that’s my belief – Christianity), and…those are real memories…then…I think I felt death in a peculiar way that day in Seattle. And feeling that puts a sincere sort of need for assessment and circumspection about what you could currently be doing to tempt your own (second or third? Ha!) demise.


And so I start thinking eventually about my beauty routine. You know? What poisons am I exposing myself to?

Hence my blog post title.

I LOVE Estée Lauder Advanced Night Repair. But the ingredients always scare me. I’m hopeful about Grown Alchemist, but…nothing is ever quite like ANR on my skin. How risky is it? I don’t know.


More to come.

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