2015-01-17 15.32.55
Cheerful and full of warmth and sunshine Donna Karan, DKNY My NY (Donna Karan DKNY) is a delightful fragrance. Reminiscent of Be Delicious, it has a watery sweetness that is neither cloying nor overpowering, and yet still nicely gourmand.

The start of raspberry, pink pepper and a quick, modern galbanum is enjoyable and balanced.  The following florals and the deep base notes are perfectly complex, rich vanilla laced, and yet still upbeat and energetic.  The feeling evoked by My NY is indeed very well suited to its name – NY.

Top notes: raspberry, pink pepper and galbanum.  Middle notes: Egyptian jasmine, freesia and orris in the heart. Base notes: patchouli, vanilla absolute, musk and ambergris.

Coquette: Part III of IV

The night I had to take the train back to school was an ugly one.  It started with feelings of sadness.  I didn’t want to go back to school.  Our home felt so safe and welcoming.  Rarely did I ever miss being home, but that night I dreaded leaving.

After my father drove the half an hour it took to get to the station I realized I’d left my dorm key back in my room at home. Well, that is, after my father drove me the half an hour it took to get to the train station.

“Dad,”  I said in a quiet voice, holding back emotion.

“Ah, yeah?”

“I think I left my key at home in my room.”

What?!”  He exploded.  “Do you have any idea how late it is?   You’re so disorganized!  This is not acceptable behavior from someone your age.”

And, as usual, when my father seethed and screamed I kept my calm.  I stayed calm.  The entire ride home was spent being yelled at and deflecting his anger.  Common enough.

We stopped at Starbucks on the way back to the train depot.  His mood had lifted and I didn’t give a damn about any of it, except I did.

“Sorry I got so tough with you.” He was laughing now over his sweet, hot cup of chocolate doused espresso and frothy milk.  Apparently it was nothing.  I had a different impression.

I said nothing.  That was always best.  And my latte was comforting.

At the train depot it was slightly crowded, but we found a seat together next to a young man with reddish blond hair, blue eyes and glasses who resembled a young Winston Churchill.  Being a great admirer of Sir Winston Churchill, I was automatically a little fascinated by his face.  He noticed me looking.

“It’s so busy tonight.”  He said to both my father and I.

“Yes.   It is.”  I said sweetly.

“Yeah.  I don’t know why,”  said my father.

Conversation started.  We all sat and chatted for about a half an hour.

When it was time for the train passengers to board I knew I wanted to sit next him.   I was more than excited to see what would happen.

We all stood up.  He looked at me, looked down and then with a hint of hidden intention asked somewhat quietly, “Do you want to sit next to me on the train?”  I agreed.

My father smiled at me.  “Well, have a good trip back Becky.”  Then turning to him cheerfully, “And you too!  What was your name?  I don’t think I caught it.  My name is Charles.”  My father extended his hand awkwardly.

“Tony.”  He shook my father’s hand.

“Well nice to meet you!”  My father laughed, smiled wide and flirtatious at Tony then turned quickly adding, “See you later Becky!”

Our words flew well between us.  After talking for almost a half an hour the conversation was growing ever more intense with emotional depths that seemed to be swallowing me, leaving me disarmed.  I could tell people were listening to our conversation.  We were the only ones talking in the car and everyone’s light was off, except for our light, but neither of us seemed to mind, especially not Tony.

“So, I think you need to find someone just like me to be with,” he said very seriously after we’d been talking for another half an hour or so.

“How so?”

“You and I are like two sides of a whole.  We fit together like this,” he placed his flattened hands together horizontally and while the words themselves sounded corny, his tone was totally sincere.   Matter of fact, a woman behind us suddenly let out a stifled, “Awww.”  We must have sounded cute I guessed, well, that is, Tony sounded cute.

He was almost engaged to a girl a few years younger than him.  She wasn’t sure about him though and they were taking a break from each other for a while.  He was still trying to convince her they should be together. “I’m trying to prove to her that we should be together,” he said morosely.  “She keeps breaking up with me.”

“How do you cope with that?”  I asked.

“Well, my mother keeps trying to tell me I should just drink.”  He paused with a bemused tone; half laughing. “She’s not an alcoholic or anything.  She says it will make me feel better, but it just seems like a bad idea to me so I don’t do it.”

“That’s definitely true,”  I say.  “Don’t drink to deal with your pain.  I think that’s probably dangerous.”

“Yeah.  That’s what I think too.”  After a pause, “See, it’s good that she’s younger than me.  I’m a little immature.” He looked down with some sadness.

“You don’t seem immature to me actually,”  I said.

“Well, I am.  I also have a very different persona around people when I’m at work.”  He owned his own record company at 23 and was trying to sign a band.  He was actually on his way at that moment to meet with the band.

“What do you mean you have a different persona?”

Shaking his head he said, “I just act like kind of an arrogant, stupid ass.  It’s just a persona.  People think it’s cool but I’m not really that person.  It’s just good for my image and my brand.”  Looking even more sad now, he looked up and out the window and then back at me, “I just wouldn’t want you to see me in that setting, if you ever do, and be…  to think that that’s who I really am instead of who I am right now with you.”

Then suddenly he reached down.  “Here!”  He opened his bag and pulled out buttons, and a poster.   “The company I own is called Shag Records.  Now you have our stuff.”  he pinned the button on my sweatshirt.  Then he looked at me. That night I was wearing glasses and at that moment he took them off and continued staring at me with a curious intensity.

“Can you see me?”  He asked dryly.

“Yes.  My vision isn’t that bad actually.”

“Good, because you’re really pretty without your glasses,”  he said before bashfully looking away.   I smiled in response and said,  “Thank you.”

We talked more.  He was falling for me.  I was falling for him.  Neither of us thought we needed to hide it.  But then it was almost time for me to leave.

“We should take a vacation together,” he said almost breathlessly.   “I think if I explained it to everyone they’d understand.  I know my father would.  I know he’d help me.”

“Ok.  Maybe.”  I said. “But what about that girl you’re trying to marry?”

He smiled gently, shifted his eyes to the side and said, “I think she’ll understand too if I explain.  At least I hope she will.”   Then he leaned back in his seat and said, “You can put your head on my shoulder if you like.  I’ll wake you up when it’s your stop.”

I did, but I couldn’t sleep.  I had never rested my head on a young man before.  It was both calming and wonderfully disquieting.  The scent of his skin, wafting about him, was also unlike any smell I had ever encountered.

“I can’t sleep,”  I said, raising my head.

“I know.”  He grinned.  “Who’s going to pick you up from the depot?”

“My uncle.”

“Is your uncle really conservative?  Can he be shocked?”

“He is actually pretty conservative.  How did you know?”

“Just a guess…”

He pulled out a bottle of men’s cologne from the bag at his feet and began spraying it wildly all over me.  Then he ran his hands through my hair flipping it and teasing it in various directions.  Stopping to look at me, his creation, he said with a delighted and mischievous laugh, “Perfect!”

I smiled.

Before I got off the train he said, “Here’s my information.  Can I have your phone number?”  I gave it to him.

“Let’s talk soon.  I really want to see you again.”  Then as various passengers rose from their seats around us he kissed his finger and placed it on my lips adding, “This better not be the only chance I ever get to kiss you.”

“I really hope to see you again too,”  I said fervently, realizing at that moment that I no longer had control over myself and was purely reacting to his every action.  It was intoxicating and a little scary.  But just as soon as I felt myself without reserve the cold reality of the moment moved me to say, “Goodbye,”  as I turned to walk down the aisle.

Leaving the train in a haze I wondered what the other passengers seeing me must think.  Other than my “morning after” appearance I must have seemed drunk, although that was just a guess since I had never actually been drunk.  I smiled and cringed at the same time.

My uncle arrived perfectly on time and despite the strong odors coming from my sweatshirt and my wild, bed head hair, he seemed oblivious.  Even when I gave him a hug goodbye he didn’t seem to notice.  I wondered why and was slightly disappointed even though it was a relief of course too.  Did he notice and just not say anything?  It didn’t seem like it.  I felt bad for Tony.  His prank didn’t work.

When I got in my room, Sam woke up for a second and that’s when it hit me.  “Sam, I just met someone on the train.”

“What?!”  She was half asleep.

“I met someone.  I’m in shock I think.  I’m totally overwhelmed.”

“Oh.  Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

“Ok.  Yes.  Sorry.”

I was the one who was shocked.  I had no idea.  I had no clue.


Be Delicious

2015-03-09 12.21.53 (2)A gush of fruity and aquatic notes start DKNY Be Delicious (DKNY 2004).   It’s sweet, but not too sweet, bright and very upbeat.  The notes of cucumber and grapefruit are perfect – juicy, sumptuous and yet tart and refreshing.

In the drydown the watery, crisp fruit and flowers center around the green apple note, although there’s a modern, chic warmth of woody amber grounding the effervescence.  DKNY Be Delicious is aptly named.  It’s an easily enjoyable, tasty scent – perfect for summer, spring and particularly fall.

Top notes: cucumber, grapefruit and magnolia.  Middle notes: lily-of-the-valley, green apple, violet, rose and tuberose.  Base notes: woodsy notes, sandalwood, and amber.  

Coquette: Part II or IV

The next weekend I got tired of being at school and decided to take the train back home.  It was snowing fairly hard that weekend.  The frigid, dry air hit my face when I walked out the door to get in the cab late at night on my way to the station. And it smelled cold.  Cold has a smell, especially extreme cold.

The orange tinted lights next to the highway created ugly shadows in the somewhat grimy cab.  I thought about the paper I needed to finish by next Wednesday for my French Literature course.  It was proving to be very difficult.  I wondered what grade I would receive on that paper.  It didn’t seem promising.

Then the station; the station covered in snow.   The cab stopped, I awkwardly paid the driver and we exchanged forced pleasantries.  My feet stepped into deep, fluffy powder higher than my ankles, but it was the sort of snow that didn’t stick. It was fortunate my feet likely wouldn’t get wet.

The ride home on the Amtrak was quiet and I managed to close my eyes and be lulled by the gentle rocking of the train on the tracks.  Only a light on the floor by our feet lit the car.

My father picked me up at the station while it was still dark out.

“Well, hello!”  He was bright and cheerful and I could tell that he’d likely had at least one or two cups of coffee before his arrival.  I anticipated the next thing to happen in the conversation.

“So, we’re really glad to have you home this weekend Becky!  Your mother is at home asleep of course.”

“Thank you, dad.  I’m glad to be home.  It’s been a stressful last couple of weeks.”

Oh? How so?”

“Well, just stressful.”

“You know the Walters are buying a new house in Arizona?!”  He changed the topic to the Walters.  Sam and Christy Walter were an entertaining couple – both emergency room doctors.  They rarely lived in the same place for more than a few years at a time.  And yet, despite their numerous moves, they were somehow able to always have an excess of funds.  My father loved spending time with them and even more than that he enjoyed talking about them when they weren’t around.  When they moved it was a running joke to call it the “annual Walter migration.”

The rest of the ride home was fairly quiet.  The sound of my father’s usual classical radio station played in the background.  It was always classical or occasionally Bob Dylan.  Nothing else.

That weekend all three of us decided to eat at our favorite restaurant, A Moveable Feast.  It was an outdoor location next to the St. Croix River.

“So, Becky,” my father chimed in brightly during dessert, “Are there any boys we should know about?”  My mother smiled sweetly without sound.  She already knew everything.  We talked frequently on the phone.

“No.  Not really.”  I saw the disapproval on his face even though I was staring down at the table so I added, “I mean there’s been a couple of guys I’ve liked but nothing’s ever come of it.”

A sharp, staccato “Oh.  And why is that then?”  My father sounded as if he was prepared to figure out any problem and eliminate the obstacles through analysis.

“Well, they just don’t like me…”

“They probably just need time to grow up a little.  But I’m sure they like you.”

“No.  They don’t dad.”

“Well, trust me.  I know.  You’re as cute as can be but they probably are just shy.  Maybe you need to find ways to talk to them more.”  I felt a knot of anger in my stomach at his words and then he continued, “See, you need to go to more functions.  Aren’t there dances or clubs?  And by clubs I mean organizations of course.”  I believe he was certain he knew.  Absolutely, positively certain.

My mother was still silent.  She sipped her coffee.

“You know, I just don’t think that’s the problem dad.  I really don’t.”

“Well, we’ll talk about it later maybe.”

On the ride home my mother decided she wanted to be dropped off at the lake a few miles from our house. She said she wanted to walk the rest of the way home.  She often did this.  It was a sunny day despite the snow covering the ground.

So!” My father opened brightly into conversation the moment my mother stepped out of the car.

“So!”  I responded.

“I just think I need to say something.  And this isn’t meant to be some sort of criticism.  Not at all.  I couldn’t be prouder of you and I know your mother feels the same way.  Your grades are just great and we’re very proud of your scholastic achievements in general.  But…  that being said, I’m concerned that you don’t have a boyfriend.”  He did sound concerned.  “I know that’s not necessarily an easy thing to just do-”

“Dad I don’t think you understand-”

“Oh yes, I do.  I think you need to get out more.  Now, I know the Walter’s son Patrick is coming home from college this weekend too and he would like to spend time with you.”  I felt sick to my stomach.

“I don’t want to go out with Patrick, dad.”

“Oh it will be fun.  You can just go out as friends.”

“Dad I don’t want to date someone I don’t like in that way.”

“Oh I think that’s a very youthful approach, which is fine.  You’re very young.”

“What do you mean, dad?  Are you trying to say that you think I should date people I don’t find attractive?”

“I just think you should keep your options open.”

I looked out the window at the passing scenery.  Everything outside looked free.  I felt trapped.

“But if I don’t find someone attractive or like them how will I ever fall in love with them?”

There was silence for a moment.  I awaited a response like a plaintiff awaiting a sentence from a judge.

“I think you need to adjust your thinking, Becky.”

“How so!?”

“Well, you don’t need love to get married. You’ll see what I mean.”


“There are plenty of other reasons to get married…  I mean it!   When you’re a little older I think you’ll understand more.  Just give yourself time.”

“What other legitimate reasons could there possibly be?  Other than to gain citizenship maybe?”

“Oh just you wait.  You’ll understand someday.   I mean it.  That’s a very dangerous way to think.  You’ll end up bitter and disappointed thinking that way.  That’s a very foolish way to think.”


“Really, Becky.  That’s a terrible way to think.”

“Dad, I respect your advice however much I may or may not agree with you, but I’m not going out with Patrick.”

“Think about it though Becky, and if it’s for the reasons you’ve said I just have to say that I think you’re making a mistake.”

I thought that because it’s now September an apple fragrance would make sense to wear.  🙂  I’m thoroughly enjoying it.  It brings back a lot of good memories of previous falls when I wore it too…  Oddly enough though, this is one of the hottest weeks we’ve had all year (I think).

Until tomorrow…