Ever So Scrumptious

My blog crush of the week is the adorable Dramatis Personae.

If you thought Peggy Carter in the Captain America movie seemed improbable, look at real-life gun-wielding bombshell Nancy Wake, operative known as “The White Mouse” because of her ability to escape from, oh, the Gestapo during WWII.

The My Body Gallery is a mindblowing project where you can see what real women actually look like. Phenomenal! I’ll be sending a photo in.

Besame cosmetics, in retro colors, are now available in New Zealand. The Vanity Case will come to your abode and do a vintage style party, if you so desire. Ordinarily I am meh about “social selling” events – it seems harsh to ask one’s friends to one’s abode to spend money so that you benefit. Still, Besame!

FashionNZ has had a site makeover and is now a lot easier to navigate.  Lots of designer lookbooks, if you want to see what’s up in the Antipodes. They have 6 or 7 giveaways every month for NZ and overseas residents.

Antique fair in Lower Hutt this weekend. A reliable source for well-priced vintage accessories and jewelry, with dealers from all over. Maybe I’ll find the epergne of my dreams…

This is a tale of a nose that found itself. Of the ideas and dreams projected onto perfume, of mistakes that were made, and how I learned what personal fragrance is really about.

My mother wore perfume; her two “signature” scents were Anais Anais and Fidji. I vaguely remember her scented and ready to go out. Is it even my memory, or is it such a trope, something I’ve heard about so many times, that it seems like a memory? Implanted into my brain by 20th-century fragrance advertising?

As a teen laden with glasses and braces, I yearned after atomizer bottles, potpourri (it was the ’80s) and incense (I repeat: the ’80s!). Around age 18, I was given a bottle of Crabtree and Evelyn’s rose fragrance Evelyn, and felt a milestone of femininity was achieved.

In the ’90s, I was young and broke. So were all my friends. Perfume was something that happened to other people. From my compeers, I caught the occasional whiff of patchouli or vetiver oil.

Then, in 2003, something made personal fragrance relevant for my demographic: Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs. They made the oil vials of the ’90s sophisticated with fresh blends and brilliant nomenclature. I went to some trouble to get a set of 10 sample scent “imps.” Unfortunately, all of them, applied to my skin, smelled like that potpourri from the ’80s. Except for R’lyeh, from their Lovecraft collection. Who knew that aeons of evil under the cold deeps smelled like grapefruit?  Frustrated, I started sniffing other fragrances again. Diptyque provided the olfactory opulence I’d dreamed of. I invested in a bottle of the now-defunct smoky rose fragrance Opôné. Probably Diptyque discontinued it for a reason, because every man who got a whiff of it recoiled.

Remembering my total perfume failure, I asked a guy recently whether men really, actually, liked perfume on les femmes. He bit his lip. “Well,” he said, “the thing is, if a woman’s applied perfume right, you can only smell it when you’re close enough to kiss her. And either it’s a success or it’s not. I mean, she’s just wearing it for herself, ya know?”

He nailed it.

And he reminded me of the two things that helped me, at last, learn to really appreciate perfume, instead of floundering in scented waves.

The first thing was so simple: focusing on scents I liked that didn’t come in bottles. Breathing deeply when I leave my abode in the spring, to inhale green humid coolness overlain by the honey of lemonwood or manuka trees in bloom. Plunging my nose into roses – often I’m disappointed by the lightest smell of celery or printer paper. Nuzzling clean laundry or my cat, who smells like fur.  In the kitchen, wanting to rub myself all over with whole vanilla beans, or handfuls of freshly-roasted cacao nibs.  I discovered I liked fresh, green scents, and warm touchable ones with some musk. I’m still a big ol’ sap for rose fragrances, too.

The second thing was a generous friend who reached out to share the art of perfume with me. And she is so great that I will be interviewing her here, to be published on August 15th! To get a sniff of her take on perfume, and a preview of the interview, visit her scent blog.

Lots of cities around the world are now visible through the choosy lenses of style blogs. Auckland has one (not-in-NZ readers, note the lanky limbs and neutral color palettes). Wellington is poorly represented in this genre. So I thought that the Grandeur and Frivolity event this past Saturday would be the perfect time to snap some shots of Wellington style. And it would have been.

If the Wellington winter hadn’t bitten.

“Braving the elements” and “carefully chosen outfit” don’t go together well. Against the persistent, cold rain and wind, Wellingtonians wrap up in their time-tested trifecta of denim, polarfleece, and waterproof jackets. We show up at events chilled and blotchy and windblown, but we’re there, damn it. This Saturday the polarfleece and waterproofs did their job. The grand hall at St. Andrews was nearly full for the event, deeply impressive in this weather. On that Saturday, I wore skinny jeans over Korean fleece tights, a retro-look cardigan, and waterproof mascara. What did other people wear?

Maggie is both sleek and warm with her cloche hat and cardigan

Here are three stylin’ dames who defied the weather. The first cleverly gets around what the wind and rain do to hair with a saucy 1920s look hat. Her outfit was shades of navy, not black, which set off the peach cardigan beautifully. The second one shouts against the grey weather in her red dress – her ruffled scarf and flower necklace evoke a summery flower lei, too. And a third had an enchanting newsprint raincoat, with an equally delicious black and white ensemble beneath it.

I enjoyed talking to sweet Jocelyn, who rocked her red dress and accessories

Thank you, pretty ladies! This was my first time taking style photos on the fly, and, gaaaah, I learned a lot. Pretty ladies, you deserve way better photography than this, and I’m working on it for the future. As the Buddhists at a nearby monastery say, “This is all just another experience…”

The crowd lingered afterwards, entranced by the opportunity to get a closer look at the intricate costumes. I was glad to get some close-up peeks myself, especially of the glorious silver gown worn by the event’s costume historian, Leimomi Oakes, and of the exquisitely constructed pet-en-l’aire worn by the model representing Madame du Barry. For more about the costumes, check out The Dreamstress’s own blog.

Riah triumphs in her newsprint raincoat