beauty - The Seventh Sphinx

When I was a child I liked the idea of having a number of features I did not have. I didn’t necessarily dislike the features I did have, quite the contrary, it was more that I wanted to have some others, too (sort of simultaneously, or interchangeably). Why, for example, could my eyes not be one of my favorite colors, purple or gold? At least some of the time? And shaped more like almonds, please?

What pleasure if I had had auburn hair that fell in loose waves. Why could I not be a bit older? Say, 37?* Some of it was a greener grass thing (wanting straighter hair, for example, which I would not have for anything now), but for the most part they were just preferences plucked out of who knows where. Some chimera of admired people and characters. I remember ardently wishing I had copper scales instead of skin at one point, for a long while.

*For some reason I was very keen to be 37. I don’t know how I came upon this number (at around age 8 or 9 this would have been), or why it stuck, but basically I’m still curious to see what happens, and have high hopes for 37.

And why, why, could I not have even a smattering of freckles?

I have zero freckles.

This was my favorite blanket, elaborately cross-stitched with Raggedy Ann and Andy. It’s rather raggedy itself now but it survives. I am maybe 6 here. Already showing a penchant for capes. I think all children instinctively understand the appeal of the cape.

I have only a few so-called beauty marks which could not be mistaken for freckles by any stretch. And hyperpigmentation from scarring, which let’s not even talk about.

Freckles are decidedly in at the moment and a lot of fine examples are showing up, reminding me of my old wishlist.

There is such charm in freckles. Often associated with youth but I have found them wonderful on older skin as well. Older women, especially. Older mixed race women especially. They fall now solidly into that category of things I think excellent on other people.

I have since learned that I can fake all of the things I once wanted the option of having (I still want those options, basically – I am so consistent as that**), provided I am willing to put in the effort. Which usually I am not, but once in a while, for fun…

I didn’t realize then how easy my concept of interchangeable features would one day be to implement.

**It hasn’t escaped my notice (well, not now, but it did escape my notice for many years), that freckles, purple eyes and wavy auburn hair describe Barbie’s friend Midge, which doll I wanted in a certain incarnation for a few years running, and found unutterably beautiful.

At the same time isn’t it a fine thing to be just as I am? Just more-or-less-with-a-few-tweaks-here-and-there-because-after-all-there’s-always-room-for-improvement as I am?

I think so.

Faux freckles are on the horizon. For one afternoon, at least. Golden eyes, too.

One thing at a time.

images via pinterest

When I finally picked up Bruno Acampora’s Musc this winter it had been at the top of my fragrance wishlist for over a year. I first heard about it when Katie Puckrik reviewed it on her channel and was, like many, instantly curious. A deep, earthy musk, beautiful, entirely unisex. The team at Lucky Scent gave it an unabashedly glowing review and I knew that I must smell it.

They are right. It is beautiful. It is earthy. It is resinous. It is not, somehow, to my nose, that musky…it is musky, but not that musky. It doesn’t feel overwhelmingly like musk. Actually, it feels like patchouli (there is patchouli in the base). Like a rooty, vegetal, loamy patchouli.

The opening is peppery and vivid, there is that wonderful healthy basement odor I was trying to describe for Lalique’s Encre Noir. This is a completely different fragrance but it has that same great moldy element. For me it is distinctly mushroomy, which I mean in the best way. Imagine a dark loaf of bread that has just begun to mold, that point where the mold does not yet smell like a warning but instead like an invitation. The mold only adds depth and complexity to the smell of the yeast and the grain, and a slight powdery quality. [Everybody with me?] At the same time there is something I want to call sweet about it. Imparted partially by the cloves, perhaps. It is not sweet, but it has that level of saturation and intensity that sweetness can achieve. In the nose and mouth it feels the way sweetness feels. This is a proper, proper perfume. It is intense, concentrated, and a little goes a long way.

The back of the box. “Color: gold.” That’s the color I am! In my mind/heart!

Part of the delight of this fragrance is the complexity, and the strangeness. It is hard to identify what you are smelling (I can’t really pick out the individual florals they reference in their description above), creating the [accurate] impression of an elaborate structure. This is the flip-side of the appeal of a clean, one-note fragrance; a simple citrus or soliflore that delights with its bright simplicity. Dark complexity is equally compelling, and Bruno Acampora Musc has it. The real beauty is, when I wear it, I think I have it, a bit. Or, at least, I project it. A few hours after application I find it wonderfully subtle, a muted and more ambery version of its initial self.

Tag: beauty

freckles

smell this: Bruno Acampora Musc