One day I will be able to write a succinct 2200 characters about gender, and how the perfumes of Her Majesty the Queen of Cool Germaine Cellier are cumulatively a perfect fit for the tangled layers of my interpretation of “femininity”. Today’s not that day, because today I’ve got a stinking headache and the energy of a hibernating hedgehog, and thus the wit and intellect of a woodpigeon who has crashed repeatedly into the window. Plus it’s pissing down with rain.

But I smell ridiculously good in pristine vintage Jolie Madame. So all is not lost.

originally posted 12 June 2019