I refuse to discuss perfume the way I used to on this blog back in the 2010’s.
That poetic, artistic, pretty way of crafting mental images of olfactory experience was shit on by toads. People who have been enabled by society to feel innately morally superior to me. Possibility superior to you too.
…So I refuse to rewrite the beauty I once composed that they only unappreciatively shat on.
However…it was fun to mentally go there.
Everyday for years I’d let my mind wind round and round the notes as I smelled them, dissecting each facet. And it was lovely. It brought me immense real joy. My haters called it pretentious because they’re all seemingly arrogant, artistically bourgeois artist-wannabes. But in reality it was wondrous. …At least for me it was wondrous. Art by humans is created not to prove a ln artist’s egotistical significance but to express the innate profound meaning of humans.
“Artist’s have egos!” a Gen X hater condescendingly corrects.
“Duh!” says Lacey in irritation.
But that’s not the point. Sure, artists have egos. But, again, art is meant to be art. It’s meant to be real.
At least I think all true art should be real on some level… Calling me pretentious was…like asking me to shut-up by screaming so loud in my ears they bled. I always aim to be real. Not vulnerable. Not open. But real. I’m not sheltered enough to be that touchable.
“But you’re so innocent and warm and good!” says a Gen X hater.
“Yes! So what?! All the better to hide my feelings. Not because I’m ashamed but because I refuse to be hurt by people who don’t care.” says Lacey. “And maybe that’s why I was made a target. Because of my invulnerability to narcissistic attacks. Narcissistic people needed me to be fake or else I seemed impossible to conquer or destroy. I’m not a liar but something about me needed to be vulnerable to critique or they’d feel utterly lost.” says Lacey.
“Lost how?” asks Michael.
“Lost to life itself. They’d maybe feel like they didn’t even exist.” says Lacey. “That’s the tortured psychology of narcissists. Their happiness primarily exists in the fallen shadows cast by fragile hopes.”
…This rather rare bottle of Guerlain, the Teardrop bottle (flacon Goutte) is likely from the 1920’s or 30’s. It’s a pretty if fleeting Shalimar. …But the bottle is important. Impossible. The flacon Goutte is everything.
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