Entries from March 2010

let them eat cake

March 31, 2010

i can’t believe it’s been five years. five years of flowerbomb sweetening ladies who lunch with its melange of heady freesia, jasmine, and rose; a touch of patchouli added for the recycled bag and hybrid driving type.

to celebrate the fragrance’s continued success (you need only ask my glamorous mother how much she covets her pink, scrumptious spray) the boys of viktor & rolf decided to extravagantly fete themselves at the hotel meurice.

the piece de resistance was the dessert.

chef yannick alleno and pastry chef camille lesecq created a most impressive cake replicating the flowerbomb packaging. further lengths were made in an effort to recreate the beautiful, but somewhat bi-polar scent.

unfortunately i had to work, otherwise i’d have rsvp’d a big “yes” to the boys’ bash. i wasn’t there to taste, but i say keep your freesia in your nosegay, and stick to good old fashioned sugar, flour, and milk for cakes. this from a girl whose favorite cake is from the grocery store, and i only eat the frosting. (cut me a corner please, preferably with a flower)

perhaps tis why my invitations to these extravaganzas keep getting lost in the mail. consensus was the rose and jasmine scented/flavored cake was a success just like the perfume.

happy birthday flowerbomb.



March 30, 2010

i had a terrible dream this weekend that somebody famous died. awful.

the last time i had a nightmare like this was eleven years ago. i dreamt i watched edward kennedy die. a horrendous accident. i somehow saw it happen, but can’t remember the exact manner of death.

dreams. foggy and muted, yet so real you’re still looking for the marks on your arm from wrestling with the monster.

waking up panicked and unsettled it took me a bit to accept my night’s tribulation was merely that.

i needed to focus instead on my italian midterm i had to take in 6 hours (i’d been cramming two days-no tv/radio).

walk downstairs, turn on the tv, breaking news:

“aircraft carrying john f. kennedy jr, carolyn and lauren bessette is missing”

as i slept, john kennedy jr., carolyn and (her sister) lauren bessette died in a plane crash flying to his cousin’s wedding.

total coincidence i know, but i think of  it often.

i didn’t take the midterm. i felt like a freak, and i thought everyone else would think so too.

i met carolyn bessette once. as a teenager. i was getting my haircut at the red door in new york. this was when everyone was seeing oribe. i, instead, had my first cut layers by the sweetest man named danilo. he had just bought a puppy and had stacks and stacks of pictures he wanted to show me. i was more interested in the models (yasmeen ghauri, tatjana patitz) holding his puppy in pictures than his actual dog.

before my haircut, my mom and i sat in the waiting room deciding what to do with my mass o’hair. this beautiful blond girl jumped into our conversation. she told us she worked for calvin klein. she was adamant that i ask for layers in my thick, half japanese hair. she told me i was pretty (at a time when i couldn’t have hated myself more). she said her name was carolyn. i think she knew i was miserable and sad. she didn’t have to talk to me. she could have read her magazine like i do when i wait for my hair. it’s sometimes the only time i get to be quiet. she reached out and made a difference.

a couple of years later we saw her in the papers. she was so much sweeter in person than what we saw in the press.


weekend round up

March 29, 2010

bowling, braids, beverages (of the adult variety) and boys.

does it get more fun?

it does.

calico kerchiefs on freshly groomed beasts.

vanilla shakes shared with a steady.

weather so warm play time wraps while the grass is still wet.

an afternoon nap. a blanket of beasts. windows open to the bouncy boats on the bay.

that cup of coffee showing she loves me.

this echoes through the house this time of year. one can’t help but smile sweetly, and wish love for others when listening to such pretty music.

and if you can…stay the fuck away.

fancying you the finest week ever m’loves.

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