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My favorite perfume of all time, perfect amount of sweet & warm & comforting
Oct 28, 2024
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* Coty Dark Vanilla—so simple but so good. The heady floral and musky notes keep it from being a cheap saccharine desserty gourmand vanilla it’s just really sexy and mature. It’s discontinued so it’s pretty pricy at about $50 for a 1.7 oz bottle considering that you used to be able to buy it at the drugstore for like 20 bucks
* Fracas by Robert Piguet—classic fragrance for divas only, like Madonna, Courtney Love, and Marlene Dietrich. I still have the same bottle I got in high school after buying a perfume book and painstakingly researching to decide what I really wanted in my perfect perfume and saving money and birthday money for a whole school year. I wear it on happy days I want to remember forever so the association I have with it of pure joy becomes stronger every time. It smells like carefree summer to me!
* I actually love tuberose so much that I’ve been using Alba Botanica’s tuberose body wash it’s soooo good
* I’ve also recently been wearing the bottle of Juicy Couture my grandmother gave me forever ago when she was still alive which was her signature scent simply because it had a schnauzer on the bottle—her favorite dog. It’s also extremely tuberose heavy and that may be why I fell in love with it in the first place. It’s grown on me i weirdly like it a lot
* I wear kuumba made amber and sandalwood perfume oil as a daily scent which matches my sandalwood sandal deodorant (rec coming about this soon…) for a nice crunchy hippie vibe
May 23, 2025
Jan 28, 2024
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VS Pink Warm & Cozy body lotion makes me think of being in my best friend's mom's car the summer after sixth grade when she'd drive us to local baseball games, the mall, the quarries where we'd go swimming, barnes & noble. Runner-up is Bath & Body Works Brown Sugar & Fig lotion, which reminds me of my babysitter Ashley from down the street and the way I could hear her flare jeans swishing when she walked down the hallway to my bedroom to check on me late at night
May 2, 2024
Top Recs from @magdalena2
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such an incredible book about what makes us human
Oct 28, 2024
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i am from the prospect park splash pad, from annie (1982) and kit kittredge. i am from see you in the morning and wemberly worried and the kissing hand. from bob dylan sung by my grandad, to patches sewn dedicated and delicately on stuffed animals, short films, and bathrooms. from too much too young too soon too loud too much. from fevers and america. i am from cancer and i am from the dinner table. Born to teachers and authors and music, out of love and out of the sperm bank. annie's mac and cheese, and tuesday playdates, and the act of being over dramatic. i am from the way that i see my grandma's face in mine as i put half of my hair in a claw clip, and from good luck charlie, and from everyone that i have ever met.
Oct 28, 2024
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My boyfriend did not die in 1991. I told a lie and it turned into a fact, forever repeated in my official biography. He died on Christmas Day, 1990, when his family disconnected the mechanical breathing machine. He was a composer in the school of music. We were working on a piece for voice and strings. I liked writing the words under the whole notes, hyphenating them to make them last. I liked sitting on the bed in his apartment, writing on the sheet music—bigger paper, thicker, how it sounded when it fell to the floor when we got tired. It was winter break, friends in town, we hopped from party to party, catching up but separately. It was late, the night was clear, the roads were empty. The four of them were sober, the driver in the other car was not. I was a few miles away, in a bar, waiting. When the bar closed, I left him an angry message for standing me up. A few hours later, a friend called and told me. He suggested I break into the apartment and start removing things before the family arrived. For several minutes I didn’t understand, then—evidence. He hadn’t told his family and it didn’t seem right to tell them now, to suggest that they didn’t really know him. I drove in the darkness between the accident and dawn. I climbed through the window. I couldn’t figure which things looked suspicious and which things would be missed. I was sloppy, rushed. I grabbed the wrong sheet music. It was a piece that had already been performed. A few days after Christmas there was a memorial. I sat in the back. As part of his speech, his father mentioned the missing music and made an appeal for its return. I couldn’t give it back. On New Year’s Eve, in a black velvet jacket, at a party in the lobby of a downtown hotel, with a drink in each hand—one for him, one for me—I kept asking where he was, if anyone had seen him. I had his passport in my back pocket. I shouldn’t have taken that either. It was the only picture of him I could find.
Oct 28, 2024