Yeah, I know; I should be tied to a tree and pelted mercilessly with rotten eggs. Haven´t we already established that SJP NYC is just another addition to the vast pile of fruity floral bombs that doesn´t need any more… Continue Reading
Evil Auntie Musette started this, and I´m continuing it. This is not about weight, size, or how many times I haven´t been to the gym in the past couple of years. Light is a metaphor for a sense of being.… Continue Reading
I was malled. Marc Jacobs Daisy is a little nothing of a fragrance that I happen to like. I don’t even think I need to go look at my original review to quote myself: it’s a fragrance entirely devoid of… Continue Reading
Two weeks ago, I posted a picture of a post-spaghetti western, pre-Dirty Harry Clint Eastwood for an essay in which I compared the allure of foody/gourmand fragrances to a “fatal attraction”. The reason I chose Clint instead of Glenn Close,… Continue Reading