Fic from before 2005: http://recalibration.adamao.org
Fic from 2005 can be navigated to by my Dreamwidth tags (I had started to do this for earlier stories, but stopped when I realized a: anything before 2005 is at Recalibration; and b: I cannot remember when I stopped using this journal for workshopping thing), which are nested for your pleasure. Unlabelled content rated PG or below should be benign, labelled content or content rated PG-13 and up may contain dragons of the non-literal sort.
(So, a Supernatural story featuring Sam and Ruby would be fic:supernatural:het:sam/ruby.)
Yuletide Stories (possibly not crossposted):http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/26/screenwritersblues.html
(Harold and Kumar)http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/72/tigerbeaten.html
Stories I don't think I ever crossposted to my journal:http://community.livejournal.com/spn_summergen/6942.htmlhttp://community.livejournal.com/choc_fic/47101.html
Stories and snippets from this year's Porn BattleGladiator, Dark Angel, Alec/Normal, sides, fantasyHidden Depths, Batman, Alfred/Lucius, dedication
Stories written for Remixes:http://recalibration.adamao.org/insomnia.htmlhttp://recalibration.adamao.org/youjustdont.html
Or, why the hell did I decide to put on Acqua di Gio (pour femme)?
HELP, I SMELL LIKE 1995.
WHICH, APPROPRIATELY, WAS A YEAR OF POOR LIFE CHOICES.
I can't even review it. It's... a fruity floral with notes of Weezer.
The child turned nine yesterday. This is deeply disturbing. Next year, she'll be a decade old.
Remember when she was born? Yeah, me too.
Now she's upstairs playing with a friend. I hear no sounds that would indicate that they're actively destroying anything, which is good.
Back on a big huge block of tan in my scarf. I'd been so busy that I was stuck on the first green stripe until this weekend, when I got a lot of knitting done at Pacificon. The tan is the worst part. So much tan.
Due to item the first on this not a list, I missed the last day of Pacificon. I do hope it was bitchin'. Mostly, I'm in the post-con weird headspace of deep regret for not talking to more people. At least my legs are no longer sore from my Saturday morning jog.
Am attempting to avoid checking my work email until tomorrow morning. Forcing self to take a break while taking vacation days. Harder than it looks.
Back to the item before last, I think what I wind up regretting most about not talking to more people is that I am aware I should expand my local fannish social circle, but feel too much like an incorrectly shaped peg to do so, and thus basically talk primarily to people I already know well enough to talk to in person. I swear that makes sense in my head.
I tried layering MKK with Dune extrait. For the first time, I got fecal from MKK. I did wait for that to wear off, but the end result was still not... good.
North Americans, remember the air freshener ad with the tag of "Now it smells like fish and roses!"?
Arm scrubbed, Le Labo Jasmine 17 applied.
Note made in mental book: never set those two up again.
(Dune in this format does amp the funk. May be a good combo with Musc Ravageur.)
I am, sadly, going to miss most of Sunday's stuff, because my child turn NINE that day, but OMG, TWO NIGHTS NOT IN THE HOUSE AND HANGING WITH FANPEEPS!!!! FANPEEPS!!!!
WHERE NO ONE WILL ASK ME WHAT I AM KNITTING, BECAUSE THEY WILL BE ABLE TO TELL!
WHERE I WILL NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN THE BULK OF MY POP CULTURE REFERENCES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The "Story" from the CB I Hate Perfume site:
True Tonkin Musk no longer exists in the contemporary world and I personally loathe synthetic versions generally they make me sick. I've learned over the years that I have particular chemical sensitivities to many of the aromachemicals used to recreate musk and I'm not alone in my dislike for those scents.
So this is my own interpretation of what I'd always imagined real musk to smell of. Whether it does or does not, I cannot know. I can say however my version is unlike anything currently called musk.
I make CBMUSK only in absolute form. This is a very rich scent that wants to be worn only in specific places.
You can tell this is not recreated in your typical musk way, because it smells nothing like most perfumes with musk notes.
It does smell like Christopher Brosius put it together, however. If I were feeling really vulgar, I'd probably nickname it "Cumming: Bareback" because it does resemble Cumming if you took out the condom note. It also resembles Demeter's Holy Smoke (Brosius, who founded the company, was the nose behind Demeter for several years). I suspect it gets strong "OMG ALIEN SMELL STRONG FILTH WHAT????" largely from people who did not spend part of their 20s wearing Demeter's grimier scents to the club. (Musk: Goth Goth?)
For me, it smells mostly like salt, smoke, heavy, heavy church incense, and dirt more than it does musk. I can smell the idea of musk in it, but I'm not sure how much of that is the power of suggestion. (Musk: Placebo?) (Nah, still prefer "Cumming: Bareback" for my personal smell nickname of this one.)
Family reactions: "Cedar. I smell a lot of cedar." [spouse] "Smells like soap." [child]
Oil-based absolute, and a huge scent up close with almost no projection. As my replacement MKK (one day, I will buy a bottle, but I keep telling myself I don't *really* need one, as there are all those Big Finish Audios I should buy first, so this time, it's a 5ml spray decant) arrived yesterday, I may try them layered today.
Which is hard: I spend a great deal of my limited free time soothing myself with the Eighth Doctor edition after all. I've given the tiles nicknames (well, the ten tiles I've seen, that is). It's somewhat embarrassing.
My Big Finish Audio consumption continues to the point where I sort of wish I could just use direct deposit to pay for it. Now that I'm through all the cheap ones for the Eighth Doctor, I'm having to ration (and, of course, get more Seven-and-Ace ones, because I haven't exhausted the budget options for those). Wow, Charley winds up in a lot of creepily sexualized jeopardy. I mean, nothing's hit the bar of sheer horror that is Minuet in Hell (which is so, so bad, on so, so many levels), but I kind of want to make a chart or possibly invent a drinking game.
Or find a ready made one. I'm sure it exists.
First, I have identified the Avon that Onda VDE reminded me of: It's Avon Elusive, a late-60s/early-70s scent that was discontinued long enough ago that I couldn't find anything on its notes (and just a comment on a review of another ancient Avon that the only thing more of a civet bomb they could think of was Elusive).
Second, as part of that, I liberated a number of sample vials from my mother's house. Two vials of Tresor, one Salvador Dali, one Acqua di Gio, one Pheromone, one Oscar de la Renta, and one Anne Klein. I contemplated grabbing the last dregs of my circa 1991 bottle of White Linen, but decided against it. I've enough stuff as it is, and an actual almost-empty bottle isn't really something I need. Besides, not like she's going to throw it out.
Third, I managed to break my spray vial of MKK. Thankfully into the sink, and thankfully, Surrender to Chance had a sale code, so I've got five ml on the way. I would get a full bottle, but I shot my wad last month on a bottle of vintage Jicky extrait. (There was maybe a ml of it left in there--I've been pretty aggressive with my MKK use. Also, I don't recommend breaking a bottle of MKK, even if it breaks because you knocked it into the sink directly above the drain. Handling the scent-soaked broken glass is still going to be a requirement, and while it's fairly tame on me, that shit's still strong.)
Fourth, speaking of Jicky, having enough to last means, err, layering. And as I was already wearing it today when my teeny-tiny bottle of Dune in parfum form showed up, well, one guess what I'm wearing.
They meld really well. Inside of my wrists have Jicky (reapplied after determining it worked), back of wrists have Dune. (I've been doing a rolling sniff thing, which must look ridiculous) Dune in parfum form, for the record, is far less of a nuclear scent attack. Possibly because it's so much easier to dose it.
OH! Wait. There was a fifth. Which was that, sadly, El Attarine, while lovely, fails to give me the clean vagina scent some get from it. Sweet, warm fruits (almost cherry-like) with an incense drydown.
Weirdly, though, the Jicky/Dune (June? Dicky?) combo may be hitting the sweet spot for raunch, though Jicky's always been fairly subdued on me and Dune's not a scent I think anyone would ever describe as filthy.
My latest order came in today, an eclectic mix of "I want to try that!" and "WHY THE FUCK DOESN'T ONDA MAKE ME HAPPY?" all rolled up in tiny bottles and packaged in bubble wrap.
I've tried pretty much all of them (except the vintage LHB, because, you know, I really just got that to verify if the Random Guerlain I have is LHB or not--similar enough to my 1999 juice to make me suspect that, different enough that I can't know for sure), which was an amusing bit of random digit sniffing (why I used my fingers, I don't know), but the one I decided to settle in with was Narcisse Noir, because it was the one playing doppelganger with the very scent I'd last worn.
Notes, per The Perfumed Court: "Caron Narcisse Noir eau de toilette is a heady scent featuring notes of orange blossom, lemon, bergamot, petitgrain, rose, jasmine, jonquil, Persian black narcissus, musk, civet and sandalwood."
For all that they smell totally different in the bottle, I am going to have to do a serious wrist-to-wrist compare between this and Miel du Bois, because holy crap, if I didn't know damn well that I'd removed any trace of MdB from my wrists, I'd think that was what I was smelling.
Modern version, so the florals are very heavy (and the musk/civet less so), and the combination of florals gives it a serious honey-like heft.
I'm going to have to try the vintage, but at the moment, I'm thinking the modern might be the answer to my, "BUT WHY ARE YOU UNAVAILABLE IN BOTTLE SIZE IN THE STATES???" sorrow over Miel du Bois.
Oh, and to shorten a story that might threaten to get long, the application of a scent I realised I love (Guerlain Vetiver) forced me to admit that in Onda VdE and Chanel No. 19, it's the vetiver that's not working on me. Something about those formulations puts it through the funhouse mirror in a way that just makes me sad. Suspect it's the florals in the mix. (Seriously: I got to the point in Vetiver where the eponymous note rose up and said howdy, and went, "Yeah. It's the vetiver. That is what I don't like in those. I like it here, but I don't like it in those." I mean, you'd think I'd be able to tell from, say the actual oil, but I really needed it in a commercial scent to determine if that's what it was.)
I start to lose my motivation the moment I get my first McGann.
I mean, there are other problems, like always winding up with too many Pertwees, but those aren't really blocking issues like, say, not wanting the McGann to go away.
How realising that I also dislike Chanel No. 19 made me determine that there is Something Going On.
The Case of the Not-for-Me Fragrance.
Today I wore Chanel No. 19.
Everything that follows hinges on that. I wore Chanel No. 19, vintage parfum. By reputation and notes (per Wikipedia, "galbanum, neroli, bergamot, jasmine, rose, lily of the valley, iris, vetiver, sandalwood, leather and musk"), I should like this scent. I've had the vintage for a while, but never tried a full day with it.
Reader, I spent the whole fucking day sniffing my wrist and going "Why the fuck don't I like this?" or "Wow, I really don't like this." with the occasional "Why do people say Onda smells like Djedi, when at least in VDE, it smells like Chanel No. 19?" and the random "Didn't my mother once say, ages ago in the before times, that she liked No. 19 better than No. 5?"
Right before I left work, I had the belated epiphany that I could just remove it, and thus scrubbed it off with a bit of lemon-scented Joy detergent. Sad, but true. Then I sniffed my wrists and thought, "Hmm... maybe I should pick up some Jean Nate for shits and giggles."
My nose reacts the exact same way to SOMETHING in Onda as it does in Chanel No. 19.
Onda, like Chanel No. 19, reads like we were made for each other. Yet we have negative chemistry. It's not that Onda turns on me: I have determined that it doesn't have to be on my skin for me to have this reaction. Same with No. 19.
But what notes do they have in common? Vetiver, iris, and bergamot, from what I can find.
OK, but I like all those notes. I've triple-checked! So what gives?
Clearly, I need to know.
Thus, I have many things on order, many of which contain some combination of notes found in No. 19 and Onda.
These include Fendi (which I recall loving), notes of ylang-ylang, rose, jasmine, iris, carnation, nutmeg, patchouli, vetiver, sandalwood, cedar, amber, oak moss and musk per TPC. Guerlain Vetiver, notes of Lemon, Mandarin, Neroli, Coriander, Vetiver, Clary Sage, Carnation, Sandal, Moss, Myrrh, Leather, Civet per TPC, Cuir de Russie, top notes of orange blossom, bergamot, mandarin, and clary sage; middle notes of iris, jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, cedarwood, and vetiver; and base notes of styrax, leather, amber, and vanilla per TPC, and a fair number more, some of which were, "OK, you're already in my basket" like Narcisse Noir and El Attarine.
I will get to the bottom of this mystery if I have to smell every vaguely similar scent in the book, damn it.
In the meantime, I'm soothing my confused and saddened scenes with a liberal application of vintage Jicky. Because reasons.
Which is already in either EDC or EDT strength. For the record.
I am a horrible person, I am sure, but I have a bucket of it. And I like smelling vaguely of Shalimar, but not too much like Shalimar, and so I, err, took a dash of it and added it to the alcohol and water mix I use to neutralize Cooking Smell when it gets in my hair, mixed well, and liberally spritzed myself. I can't even claim to really be wearing Shalimar. It is the perfume version of Chocolaty Coating or Cheese Food Product. Shalimary Spritz Smell Product.
But I like it. It's there, but not overwhelming.
Even if my actions mean I am a perfume heretic.
(I wouldn't do this to, say, Jicky, nor to L'Heure Bleue. Jicky is harder to find, and LHB should be enjoyed with small doses at full strength. But less has always been more with Shalimar, and the stuff is everywhere.)
Though it occurs to me that my definition of accomplishments != a normal one. Eh, whatevs.
ACCOMPLISHMENT! I have dragged myself out of bed and purchased tickets for the RSL showing of Richard II at SIFF Cinema! (A some point, I should probably knuckle up and buy a SIFF membership, given how often I buy tickets to see filmed versions of London stage plays.)
ACCOMPLISHMENT ACCOMPLISHED BY THAT ACCOMPLISHMENT! It shows close enough to my brother-in-law's birthday that I can drag him to it! (I feel kind of bad for not grabbing a ticket for my sister, but she works evenings.)
ACCOMPLISHMENT ACCOMPLISHED BY THAT ACCOMPLISHMENT ACCOMPLISHED BY THE ACCOMPLISHMENT! I don't have to find a sitter! The child will stay home with the spouse!
And at this point, the word accomplishment looks really odd, and has lost all meaning.
ACCOMPLISHMENT UNRELATED TO THOSE ONES! I have managed to get more than halfway through the grey in my Who scarf. Well, first chunk of grey, after which comes green, at which point we have ALL THE COLORS ON THE SCARF. (I had a busy week at work. Not just so busy that I wasn't knitting at lunch, but so busy that, if I remembered lunch, it was closer to 2 or 3, and food was consumed on the way from the cafeteria to my office.)
Apparently, my version of Adult Accomplishments is DID SOMETHING FOR MYSELF! YAY!
From Some Freaking Vintage, IDK.
Honestly, if it were easy to tell when a bottle of Tabu came out, life would be easier. After zip codes! This one came out after zip codes were a thing! That was what, 1962 or something?
I'm almost tempted to see if I can get a decant somewhere with an established date, but when you can get a randomly old bottle of the stuff for under $10, it seems like a waste of decant money to do so.
It's ... Tabu. I have vague memories of smelling it on people in the 1980s. I do see why people compare it to Bal a Versailles, especially the spicebomb of an opening, but where Bal bubbles up into pure ridiculousness, Tabu settles into a powdery musk. Less is certainly more: even in EDC, this is potent.
For comparison, I have Tabu on the wrists, Bal a Versailles on one elbow, and Musc Ravaguer on the other. Apparently, being overheated and stressed out is the key to getting the musk to come out on that one, or perhaps just having it contrasting with the Tabu. Both of them are more complex than the Tabu, which makes me suspect mine might be from the 1980s, or that people claiming it is complex are reading into things. Or both. It could be both. I'm glad I tried it, but I'm also glad I got it on the cheap. If you like Bal a Versailles, it's worth a sniff.
And while I know it's a scent that originated in the 1930s, I can't smell it and not smell the 1980s. So if you're nostalgic for acid washed jeans and shoulder pads from hell, Tabu might be just what you need.
(I'm actually going to have to go wash it off now. I'm too tired and cranky to smell like I'm wondering who the fuck shot JR.)
Side effect of the Tom Baker rewatch: I'm teaching myself to knit.
Those of you on Tumblr may have seen that, but I basically decided to combine two things I wanted (figuring out knitting so I can make a proper Alice Morgan style beret and having 12' of multicolored scarf) and am too far into it to really back out now. I can do felt joins now. Felt joins are cool.
It's not like I'm going into this entirely without experience with yarn. I do crochet, after all. I say, as if that somehow means I can magically garter stitch that much yarn in a short period of time.
Also, Romana's parade of regenerations in Destiny of the Daleks is so stupidly adorable. It's the Doctor's parade of outfits in Robot, only with bodies!
So here's the thing:
I am eternally on a quest for a filthy, nasty, down-and-dirty scent that stays down-and-dirty when it meets my skin.
This is harder than it looks.
It's a perfect storm, really. I have both a high tolerance for skank in perfumes (I went to a liberal arts college with the common joke of "How do you kill a trust fund hippie? Put his credit card beneath the soap." and I love the taste of celery for similar reasons to my love of okra, and feel that combining the two vegetables is the taste version of femslash) and skin that, well, apparently eats it for breakfast.
For a while, I wondered if it was just that I was anosmic to those elements, until I a: recalled that I could smell them in the bottle; and b: verified that by holding the tiny vials of precious liquid up to one nostril and huffing them with the other nostril pinched shut. (Also, I can smell it on other people.)
This morning, in fact, I decided to closely examine three vintage skankbombs after a vial sniff test: Bandit, Bal a Versailles, and Jicky. After forty-five minutes on my skin, Bandit smells like soap--not in a bad way, mind you: it brings to mind old school Irish Spring with a hint of spice--any filth and decadence completely tamed. Bal a Versailles smells delightful, all spice and warmth, and it's certainly sensual, but in a romantic sort of way. The raunch is buried deep within, and the only way I can tell it is there beneath the spice is to do a comparison huff with Jicky and look for similar notes.
Jicky holds out the longest. It does start out fairly clean on my skin, but if I put enough on (I'm a total scent miser, so "enough" here is "at least three dabs more than normal"), I can get a hint of raunch once the initial notes fade away a bit.
So, my fellow scentheads, rec me your top skankbombs! I am curious to see if any of them can survive the test of my flesh. I mean, hell, in terms of modern stuff of which I have enough to do this, I've resorted to putting MKK in my hair if I want the M to remain for any length of time.
My skin also amplifies any sweet or spicy notes, as well as soapy ones. In the meantime, I've got vintage Tabu coming to me, and I'm going to see if I can track down some Fendi, which I recall from my misspent youth had a nice blast of skank going for it. (I should really check my mother's medicine cabinet to see if I left the sample vial there, but I suspect I used it all up.)
This is not my Bal a Versailles post.
This is my "Hey! I bet I could make this smell like Bal a Versailles if I just..." post.
Because apparently, as I discovered while playing with them the other night, if you take 2 parts Musc Ravageur to 1 part Muscs Koublai Khan, you wind up with something very similar.
So I guess if I run out or can't find my Bal a Versailles, but need it, I now have my substitution recipe ready to go.
(Sometimes at night, I go a little nutty with combinations. It happens.)
Because I thought of two, but then thought that would be cruel of me.
Backstory: Dior Dolce Vita was my go-to scent for a while. I'm trying to remember the exact timeframe without calling my mother, but it was about a dozen years ago. Post 2001, pre 2004.
This was a period during which I went through a lot of different scents. I did routinely return then, as of now, to L'Heure Bleue (my baseline since 1999), but I routinely spent my time at the perfume counter while I waited out traffic.
I really, really loved Dolce Vita. There was something about the hint of fruit and floral over woods that really appealed to me, and the bottle was charming in a strange, almost atomic age way.
Unfortunately, I was wearing it on a ridiculously hot day where I was out in the sun too long. Between the scent, the heat, and being with the maternal branch of my family in the armpit of rural Canada, it was a perfect storm of sensory overload. Dolce Vita and my relationship was never the same after that.
I couldn't stand the sight of smell of her, frankly.
Because of its connections to Shiseido Féminité Du Bois, I decided to try it again. I'd long since given away my bottle, so I got one off eBay that still had enough scent in it to try, but not so much that it cost a lot.
As I'd suspected, but hoped to be wrong about, the negative associations haven't faded. The woods in it still come out on me far more strongly than the stone fruits or florals, and it makes me feel like I'm trapped in a cedar-lined closet during a heatwave.
Ah, well. The bottle's still pretty, I suppose.