By Val the Cookie Queen

Notes: Bergamot, lemon, labdanum, amber, vanilla, patchouli, sandalwood, musk.

Le Lion de Chanel opens with an eruption of bergamot and aldehdydic leather. It is exquisite. The love child of Shalimar Parfum, father unknown.

We do know the perfumer is Oliver Polge.

The construction seems to be built around a centre of cool church incense, although not mentioned in the official note list. To my nose the incense remains throughout the entire composition allowing it to retain a continued coolness and elegance in the heart of what is an oriental amber.

Not a dark and sticky amber, and not the choke-you-to-death flat, unpleasant amber beloved by so many niche perfumers. This is graceful and elegant.

The base is rich and shimmers with light. There is a soft leather presence, a sandalwood richness; the animalic labdanum assures the sensuality, and a dry vanilla which, like the incense, envelops the wearer from the first moments, makes this an absolutely stunning piece of work.

Worldwide launch January 2021.

A limited release in the Middle East, May 2020.

CQ

Disclaimer. I got my bottle from the friend of a friend’s friend, whose Uncle’s dog died. I paid hard cash for it.

Ken Crisp 20 July 1931 – 10 June 2020.

There was never not an Uncle Ken and Auntie May.

As a child growing up in the wilds of Wyoming and the suburbia of California, Uncle Ken and Auntie May were voices on a tape. My mother (his sister) was desperately English, and I do believe was rather a fish out of water there, having transferred from the soon to be swinging London in 1960, to a land where a having a garden was a yard, and you had to watch out for rattlesnakes.

Each Christmas a box would arrive from England full of Rowntree`s Fruit Pastels, Cadbury’s Chocolate, Smarties, Germolene, and a tape recording from The English Family. Uncle Ken and Auntie May, Nanna, and my cousins. Mum would play them, and play and play them again. I have one old tape still, that Mum put onto a cassette at some point. Their voices still fascinate me, so very BBC, “Hello Valerie, this is your Uncle Ken speaking!”

We left the Unites States in 1967 on a Pan Am jet heading to Heathrow. Uncle Ken was waiting to pick us up. I remember climbing into what seemed to be a huge black car, but surely wasn’t, and the steering wheel being on the wrong side.

Uncle Ken and Auntie May have lived in the same house in Pinner for some sixty years. It has been and still is the one constant in my life. As kids we had the best Christmases there. Well known for hosting the greatest parties, already back in the sixties, Uncle Ken would fill their huge garden with strings of fairy lights, and glowing lights that were somehow hidden in amongst the bushes. They would leave all of us kids and cousins alone as we hid ourselves in amongst the magic. And as far as I know he never electrocuted himself!

He had a great sense of humour. I would on occasion go and stay with them, and his daughter and I would go up into town for a night out, returning on the last train back. Uncle Ken would be waiting outside of the tube station with a large cardboard sign in the front of the car saying “Crisp Taxi Service.”

I left England in 1985. Out visits became more sporadic, and we entered the “cards for birthdays and Christmas” era. Scattered with the occasional visit when I went home.

Over the last ten years though, I have been going home much more frequently. I stay with their daughter and I got to really sit and talk with Ken for quite some hours, and spend time looking at old photos. Curled up on their über-comfortable sofa and eating too much cheese on toast, in the home I have been visiting for more than fifty years. Snug and secure.

Uncle Ken and Mum. 1940. St. Ives, Cornwall.

Uncle Ken passed away on the 10th of June.

Just a fortnight before I had called him and we spent a good half hour on the phone chatting about everything. For this I will be eternally grateful.

I cannot go to the funeral, thanks to the ridiculous 14 day self-quarantine rule in the UK. I am not sad that I cannot be there, I am bloody annoyed.

Rest easy Uncle Ken. Although if Mum has got a hold of you that will be highly unlikely.

With love from your favourite niece.

I have been wearing the Neela Vermeire Creations Mohur Extrait after my evening shower, just about every day since I got a 10ml travel size. Must be about eight weeks now? And those nights where I didn’t, I wore Lutens’ Iris Silver Mist. I also have about 10mls of the ISM. I desperately want a bottle of each, and have nearly talked myself into it several times. Years of idiosyncratic perfume behavior has taught me a few things though. And one of them is to recognize the fact that 10mls of perfume lasts a really long time, and with the exception of Malle`s Le Parfum de Therese, I have never finished a travel of anything, let alone a full bottle. I still want them. I am hoping that when I have one of those days when everything aligns, when the moon is in who tf knows, and I have had just the right amount of caffeine to not care ……….. otherwise I will wait until they are empty, if that ever happens.

I hate shopping for clothing of any kind. Apart from packs of underwear from M&S. I needed a new sports bra though, as the ones I currently wear have as much stretch as the weights I try and lift.

I grabbed the bras off the rack, and went onto the changing room. You know the kind? The ones with the lighting that magnifies cellulite, and riddles you with prominent blue veins. The ones that are so hot your make up melts off within seconds. I knew I would not be able to do the putting-the-bra-on-backwards-and-twisting-it-round routine, which is why I very wisely took b.londeswunder with me so as to have someone to do it up for me at the back. Watching your mom bending down over her knees trying to shake her boobs into the bra cup, and then proceeding to jump up and down to see if it holds everything together for gym activity? Man.

The only reason I went through this process is because I had no choice. I had to have one. When I try clothes on in a changing room, I inevitabley decide everything looks like shit, and I can get another 5 years out of my ripped clothes, and I run out as fast as possible. And you know what? Things do mostly look bad in a changing room. Hannah is going to teach me to shop online. Properly. And enjoy (I seriously doubt it) trying on things in my own home, in front of my own mirror. I am most certainly not holding my breath.

Part of my brother’s dental kit.

So my brother performed dental surgery on himself last week. Pulled out about a third of a tooth that had been giving him trouble. Using nothing but a Stanley knife to cut into the gum, and a pair of sort of surgical pliers to pull it out. He is a carpet repair specialist, so had both of these tools conveniently to hand. It gave him immediate relief and is healing nicely. This is the same guy that took a hefty swig of bleach out of a glass I had out on the kitchen counter in the first flat I ever lived in. He had come to drop something by when I was not at home, and thought I had left him out a glass of lime cordial – his favourite tipple. It burned his throat, and he was unable to swallow properly, which did affect his voice for a few days. Needless to say he has not contracted Covid 19, having immunized himself at a young age. (I have no idea to this day why I would have kept bleach in a glass, but I did smoke a lot of weed back then.)

…. You have the right not to be killed, murder is a crime, unless it was done by a policeman, or an aristocrat oh, know your rights …… You have the right to free speech, as long as you’re not dumb enough to actually try it …… know your rights. The Clash. Know Your Rights. 1982

BLACKLIVESMATTER