Pretty procrastination

I love that blogs are simultaneously private and public, in that you know a great deal about me even though I (more than likely) have never met you. My Honours class has never seen me do the Kenya dance. I doubt they ever will, because I’m not really prone to doing such things in real-time. I’m really rather boring in real life.

I’m meant to be drafting an article for publication in an academic journal (FIRST ARTICLE EVERRRRR WHEEEEE! —although publication isn’t guaranteed, but WHEEEEE! nonetheless) but I don’t know how. I’ve never done this in my life. I can do it, I think, I just… can’t get started. Instead, I’ve cleaned my room instead. And done my nails (albeit two different colours, because I’m swatching), and now I’m about to watch Futurama.

I suck  at working. Please, scholarship-people-if-you-give-me-a-scholarship, please don’t take it away from me. I’ll earn the money. When you start paying me.

I could use the money, too. All I really want (okay, amongst other things) at the moment is a new bottle of Miss Dior Cherie, because all my bottles are now completely and utterly out.

Miss Dior Cherie is my favourite perfume. It’s a mainstream fragrance, and quite a popular one, I think. I’m a bit ashamed to admit that its popularity made me second-guess my decision to make it my signature perfume because, well, really, a good perfume is a good perfume, whether or not it’s loved by the masses.

Quite a few reviews just put it as another fruity floral, which it is, and it isn’t. I find perfume reviews difficult to understand, actually, because skin chemistry changes the way a fragrance blooms that… well, it’s impossible to deem a scent ‘bad’ because it might just work on someone else. Burberry Brit smells like garbage bin juice on Valerie but smells fine on quite a few people, I’m sure; and Valerie’s Comme des Garcons Wonderwood runs an amazingly woody gamut on her wrist, ending on a spicy incense, but sits on boring non-committal woods on me (and then somehow pulls a strange sweet muskiness out of the air, which is a bit baffling as there are no really sweet musky notes).

Miss Dior Cherie, for me, is a caricature in a bottle. It’s hyperreal in its femininity: not conventional femininity itself but an amazingly exaggerated version of it.

On the first spray, it feels like red-coloured toffee being melted in a deeply gleaming golden bowl, or candied flowers sitting atop a giant cake of warm butter icing. These, mind, aren’t the notes; officially, you’re smelling mandarin and strawberry leaf and perhaps some caramel popcorn, although I get more sugary caramel than the nuttiness of popped corn kernels.

from lifestylefood.com.au

 

And then there’s the slightest hit of patchouli, not terribly earthy but sweet and clean, made sweeter by the abandoned sticks of toffee and apple cores. It dries down to a warm, enveloping powdery musk on me — like the fall of a skirt after it’s been twirling; that mad, whirling tizzyness ending in a soft fold of silk.

by the ever amazing Tim Walker

Miss Dior Cherie is synthetic to its last note but it’s a synthetic quality that I quite enjoy — a scent that says, ‘let’s pretend’ and throws open its boxes of spangled dress-up clothing, normal tattered rags dyed in funny clashing colours. There’s something really awesome about conscious artificiality, particularly artificial femininity, in a bottle.

Usual plug: I’m holding a giveaway: three bottles of Ulta3 nail polish and one adorned-with-bits-and-pieces Moleskine. All you have to do is leave me a comment on this linked post before December 12!

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One Comment to “Pretty procrastination”

  1. I love Miss Dior Cherie too!

    You are right, those red heels are still calling my name.

    SSG xxx

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