Quelques Fleurs (repost of my own blog from 2015)

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Quelques Fleurs (Houbignant 1913) is citrusy, with a definite note of orange blossom and as it progresses it floats into a sugary sweet fresh floral with a particularly refined tarragon that adds depth and mystery.  Oakmoss and civet also do not disappoint as they lend sophistication and punch to the very vintage flowers.  In particular heliotrope, orchid, violet orris root, and ylang-ylang are noticeable but really, more than most fragrances, it’s possible to find each and every floral note.  With the base notes of tonka bean, honey, sandalwood and vanilla this scent finishes with a pleasant airy softness.

Top notes: orange blossom, green notes, tarragon, bergamot, lemon and citruses.  Middles notes: carnation, tuberose, orchid, lilac, orris root, jasmine, heliotrope, yang-ylang, lily-of-the-valley, rose, violet and iris.  Base notes: sandalwood, tonka bean, amber, musk, civet, oakmoss, honey and vanilla.

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Last night I drove around our neighborhood and the surrounding areas and discovered a Whole Foods.  The was strangely comforting… And I saw the Puget Sound from a closer view. I love water…  I love big bodies of water.

And then as I was headed back to where I now live I found myself missing St. Paul again.  I’ve never experienced anything like this before…  I’ve moved about eight or nine times since I was born including college when I moved to the other coast…  I didn’t miss St. Paul, Minnesota, or even the Midwest back then.  I was glad to go.  But this time…  I stayed in St. Paul just long enough and lived in just the right place to let it get to me.

I miss the way the land felt under my feet – nearly level, solid and unchanging but with a gentle, elegantly placed hill here and there.   The trees seemed relaxed, and weathered by age but grand and soul searching.  The air felt dense and heavier but equally mysterious. And all those old brick and stone buildings…  All that history.  I miss it.

I do see the enormous amount of beauty here though.  It’s not that…   Not at all.

Sigh. More later…

🙂

Beauty

If Lacey’s mother was Margy…symbolically or literally…Lacey’s beauty was lost. Even though she’s alive.

Her whole life she grew-up comparing herself to women with sharp, elegant features. Nordic coloring. Tall. Slender.

Lacey’s beauty isn’t curvy like some women though. And Lacey is curvy but…that’s not the thing.

The thing is…she’s thin but it’s more that she’s objectively smaller than most living American white women. Yet not genuinely petite. And her beauty rests in an unending sense of her soft fertility.

Soft fertility?! Yes. The way your grandmother or great grandmother may have been soft and fertile in her appearance in her youth. Think of the beauty ideal of the 1930’s. They weren’t curvy in the way we consider curves in 2022. They were…soft. And fertile in appearance. We call it femininity but it’s really an appearance of fertility… It’s about femininity but with the emphasis placed on how easily a woman can conceive a child.

But Lacey wanted to be taken seriously. By everyone. So she tried to obscure her femininity. Her fertility. To be quieter. To be more private. To be left alone…

Except now she’s too left alone. Or is she?

The thing is…as she’s written before…she was misunderstood.

“I’m soo misunderstood!” people sometimes say to sound cool. But what about the people who actually are misunderstood? What are they supposed to say? Lacey really has been genuinely misunderstood.

No. She’s heterosexual, ladies. She’s just not being…open about it. Not because she’s confused and wants to run off with a female Jack…and rather effectively pretend to be a lesbian and fool a lot of people. But because she is scared.

Scared? Yes. Scared of being raped. Scared of being given attention she doesn’t want. From men. That doesn’t mean she’s gay. Sorry.

…

Once Lacey wore high heels in a store for an ex and he was so aroused it became an incident. It’s flattering…but think about how that makes someone like her feel. Some women might enjoy or crave that variety of power over other people. Lacey finds it genuinely repulsive. How do you blend in and enjoy nature and art and grieve evil while wearing high heels? While attracting unwanted attention? It’s easier to wear a sackcloth and ashes all of the time.

And in essence, she does. Sweeties…if her father was born in 1894 she’s in permanent hiding. And she’s taken that subconscious directive from her father very, very seriously.

…

And yet…if Michael had approached her she would have instantly known. And allowed it.

It looks like snobbery. But it isn’t.

And what’s just being empathetic to Lacey looks like genuine friendliness to others. Or did. Maybe people were genuinely kinder in the past too.

What’s Lacey in mourning for? Death. Look around… Look in your own backyard at your brown lawn and the weird color of the sky. The blinding lights of the sun. The eerie, sad feeling of life. The way nothing feels alive and yet everything feels alive.