Firewater: Scene 1 ~ Bourbon Street, New Orleans

 “I loathe alcohol. It is my enemy. And my seducer.” – Jean Stafford

Spring 1997 ~ I am weaving through the French Quarter, all bountiful decadence and beautiful desolation. This is my kind of town. Still new to drinking, I haven’t quite weaned off the sweet and fruity, beginning with a couple of amaretto sours and a white Russian, before stumbling into Oz and making my way up to the wrought iron balcony. In the cramped restroom, a couple tugs frantically at each other, hurriedly shutting the door in my face as I interrupt their kiss. It’s still early, and only one or two guys are dancing on the floor. A muscled man in tight trunks gyrates atop the bar, right above my head. I sip my drink and he leans down and tells me he likes my shirt. Thanking him, I slink back outside. My money will be poured down my throat before making it into his underwear.

On the street, a stand offering three-dollar Hurricanes has appeared in circus-like glory. A giggling couple orders one – an enormous amount of rum and frozen fruit juice in an obnoxiously ridiculous plastic cup. I can only finish about a quarter of mine, as I’m already swimming in drunken abandon. It’s sickly sweet stuff, and an instant headache comes on. Around the corner, I meet a Greek sailor on leave. We find an abandoned warehouse on the river, but I am already floating.

{‘FireWater’ is a project from 2009 that has gone unposted until now.}

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FireWater: Overture

I’m not one for feeling lonely.

When I was little, I could occupy myself for hours – alone and in silence – living my life out in my head, without need or want of a companion. Loneliness has never been a province of mine.

I know a lot of people who can’t abide being alone – even for a moment. Quiet solitude makes them uneasy. They need someone to be around at all times – and if there isn’t someone there, they get on their phone to make sure that someone soon will be. They do not do well sitting still. I have several friends and one or two family members that are like this. My Uncle was one of them – though maybe it was less a need to be around people and more of a desire to be around anyone other than me. I could never tell, and I’ll never know now. 

These people are usually incredibly fun company because they need to be. Their disposition requires it of them, and their survival instincts have adapted them to being the kind of person you generally want to be around, precisely because they need people to be around them.

I’ve never understood that. Stillness and solitude never bothered me. I embraced them. The trick is not to need anyone. You can do anything if you can do that. You can fly. No ties, no responsibility, no bonds, no disappointments. That’s what drinking can do, and that’s what drinking is like – flying.

To that end, there’s no better cohort than a cocktail. A good drink is a forever-friend – find one that’s agreeable and it’s a companion for life. I’ve amassed a decent collection of such friends over the years. Many are chosen by the season – summer calling for a gin & tonic; fall asking for something with slightly more depth, like a Negroni; winter wanting for the substance and sustenance found in a Manhattan or Sazerac; and spring, well, spring is for any number of spellbinding beauties – an Aviation, a Last Word, a Ramos Gin Gizz… spring is for everything. 

I’ve spent some of my most memorable moments of friendship over a cocktail. It’s often the only way I have of opening up and feeling comfortable with people. The ultimate annihilation of inhibition, and the only way I can show my true feelings, even if they were never meant to be spilled, even if they would do better bottled up. 

There are those who drink to enhance companionship – the good-time drinkers. Sometimes, on good days, I can fall into this category and become just one of the crowd – in control of the good time, enjoying the company, and functioning like everyone else. But simple camaraderie is not the underlying reason for the drink.

I used to think that I drank to feel less alone. Strange, that – for as I said, I do not seek or need company as a general rule. I don’t mind a bit of banter with the bartender or a neighbor on the next barstool, but I’m perfectly content without them. 

I guess I drink to feel less lonely with myself, if that makes sense – or more at ease with myself, at least. It is my own company that is uncomfortable – and the best way to escape from your own self is to approach oblivion. 

Welcome to FireWater. 

What’s your poison?

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Fear Before Fire

How it should be that I’m sitting in the glow of this lone computer screen and a sextet of candles, scared out of my mind and listening to Philip Glass and his take on ‘Dracula’, is not entirely known to me. I ventured into the attic in the early hours of night, where it was dark and cool – not cold like winter, merely cool, as befitting of fall. This once-cozy place turned into something infernal once the candles were lit and the diabolical score for ‘Dracula’ began playing. It is, I suppose, the season to be frightened. 

A pointed hat is perched on the edge of the wooden desk. A pair of stones – one of rose quartz and one of carnelian – sits in the center of a mushroom-shaped pedestal. A brooch of indeterminable origin occupies another mushroom-like bowl. The candlelight is little solace, the flames dancing in macabre and unpredictable fashion, skittering like the violins across the darkness. 

It’s just pre-project-birthing nerves, perhaps, the usual doubt and fear that accompanies any creative release, even if there is distance from when this one was written. Thirteen years of distance. It does lend a certain enchantment, a protective talisman to keep the demons at bay, if only for a night. When the harsh light of day returns, there may also be terror. 

And then the start of the ‘FireWater’ journey. 

Walk with me…

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Preamble to FireWater, A Long-Lost Project

Bitterness
By Rumi

In my hallucination
I saw my Beloved’s flower garden
In my vertigo
In my dizziness
In my drunken haze
Whirling and dancing like a spinning wheel

I saw myself as the source of existence
I was there in the beginning
And I was the Spirit of Love
Now I am sober
There is only the hangover
And the memory of love
And only the sorrow
I yearn for happiness
I ask for help
I want mercy

And my Love says
“Look at me and hear me
Because I am here just with that”

I am your moon and your moonlight too
I am your flower garden and your water too
I have come all this way eager for you
Without shoes or shawl

I want you to laugh
To kill all your worries
To love you
To nourish you

Oh sweet bitterness
I will soothe you and heal you
I will bring you roses
I too have been covered with thorns

“Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you’re allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It’s like killing yourself, and then you’re reborn. I guess I’ve lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.” ~ Charles Bukowski

“I drink to make other people more interesting.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

“It’s a great advantage not to drink among hard drinking people.” ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

“After the first glass, you see things as you wish they were. After the second, you see things as they are not. Finally, you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.” ~ Oscar Wilde

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Dazzler of the Day: Jamie Lee Curtis

Taking the easy way out would be granting this Dazzler of the Day to Jamie Lee Curtis simply because it’s Halloween season and there’s a new Halloween movie out. That would also deny the remarkable power and talent that Curtis has exemplified these past few decades. (I’ve been smitten since her scene-stealing romp in ‘True Lies’.) But even that falls by the wayside when I think of the real reason she is so dazzling: she knows who she is, failings and all, and she simply doesn’t give a fuck anymore. That is the greatest inspiration for any of us still scared to genuinely confront who we are at any given time – and it’s dazzling and mesmerizing and worthy of all the accolades that are coming to her. 

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Rekindling a Long-Lost Project

“My days of pleasing men are over. You know, I’ve said how I used to sit in bars and learn how to drink cause they wanted me to drink with them and all that. It’s the end. I’m not going to do anything anymore for anybody… As far as being pleasing to men, well, yeah, I would try and cook up nice costumes…” ~ Little Edie Beale, ‘Grey Gardens’

Thirteen years ago – which was 2009 for anyone who wants to be horrified by the passage of time – I completed a project entitled ‘FireWater’ which never saw the dark light of the internet. A printed copy was shown to a very few select friends, but for the most part this long-lost project went silently into the dim recesses of the forgotten, particularly when compared to the bombast and hype surrounding others (see ‘PVRTD‘ and ‘The Delusional Grandeur Tour‘). 

Designed as an elemental companion piece to 2007’s ‘StoneLight‘, ‘FireWater’ was my exploration of cocktails and drinking, and was intended to be a very dramatic and dark look at the possibility of becoming an alcoholic. It was more of a character study, something I would explore in works like ‘The Circus Project‘, ‘A Night at the Hotel Chelsea‘ and ‘Bardo: The Dream Surreal‘. Rather than a straightforward autobiographical narrative (something early projects relied upon), the story of ‘FireWater’, while based on actual events, was more of a what-if scenario, deliberately playing up the danger and risks of someone teetering on the edge of control. 

2009 was around the time when I was just barely beginning to figure out the way to artistic expression without actively being a direct participant as a subject. That was not a journey that could be completed in a single project or small span of time – that would take years. One of the main reasons ‘FireWater’ was not released then was that I understood, all too well, that putting it out there would only fuel the fire of misunderstanding and mistaken beliefs on my own drinking. In other words, the world would assume I was an alcoholic.

Not to say that I’m not… and not to say that I am… but that’s a discussion for another time. For now, let’s note that I have not had a drink in almost three years, nor have I wanted one, and that has been one of the easier choices I’ve made in my life. Which brings us to another reason why I’m releasing ‘FireWater’ at this moment: like so many other things I’ve recently made a certain peace with lately, this can no longer hurt me. And what others make of my journey has never been within my control anyway. When you reach a certain place of security and self-knowledge, those things fall away. 

Entire truth be told, the main reason I didn’t release ‘FireWater’ back then was that I was scared. I knew that it was entirely possible that I was headed toward becoming a problematic drinker, and that was something I wasn’t ready to face or address. For the first time, a project was hitting too close to home, and it felt too immediate to safely post for all the world to see. Some things are better worked through on one’s own time and in one’s own safe-space. I’ve given enough of my soul to the world, laid bare too much and too often. One of my infallible instincts is self-preservation, and it always kicks in when I’m right on the verge of doing something too destructive. It came through then, and so the project was shelved, literally, until I dusted it off a few weeks ago and realized it was time to put it out there.

This week, the online premiere of 2009’s ‘FireWater’ takes place – and this post will act as a placemark and disclaimer, particularly for those who have come to expect mocktails and non-alcoholic mindfulness in these parts. As a creative project, this is not an authentic description of my life, nor should it be seen as an endorsement of heavy drinking. It does describe a certain time period, and certain events, but it is also largely exaggerated, the way many of my projects have been, to play up the exciting or dangerous aspects of what is otherwise a mundane and un-noteworthy existence. The role of an artist is sometimes to make the mundane into something exciting, even if that means accentuating the darker parts of life, and pretending that things are more perilous than they may actually be. ‘FireWater’ was originally a hint at that darkness – and while much of it still stands up to the years that ensued, it is now also a hint of the artistic process, and what role the artist plays in the action. 

As mentioned previously, I have’t had an alcoholic drink in almost three years. Alcohol is no longer a part of my life in the way it once was, and being thirteen years removed from this project is more than a safe distance so as not to get burned by it in any way. That said, there are whispers and glimpses of danger here – warnings and forebodings that I see in retrospect, and that makes it all the more compelling. Our journey back to such a place begins in a few days. If you think you can handle it, please join us for the ride. 

“There are other ways to kill yourself, I really do think, than swigging down that rotten stuff…” ~ Little Edie Beale, ‘Grey Gardens’

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The Elusive Amber Absolute by Tom Ford

Not many fragrances live up to their over-the-top billing and extreme descriptors, but ‘Amber Absolute’ from Tom Ford’s Private Blends more than fulfills its accompanying literature. It carries even more mystery and magnificence since it’s been discontinued for years, and later versions are reportedly nowhere near as potent as its original incarnation. An early blog attempt at capturing its magic fell flat for me, and I never properly honored such an exquisite scent, so I’m trying again here. 

This is considered by many to be the greatest Tom Ford Private Blend, and it is definitely the most gorgeously dark and decadent scent in my cologne cabinet, surpassing even the intoxicating ‘Tuscan Leather‘ and ‘Portrait of a Lady‘. It was re-released as part of a Reserve Collection, but I’ve been told it’s not as good, so I’ve been using my original as sparingly as possible to make it last. The re-releases tend to be slightly watered-down, while the price has gone insanely up. 

October is usually when my bottle gets its turn off the shelf, cozily cuddling up to the chilly nights. When fireside chats demand sweaters and boots, this is a scent that can hold its own with the burning embers and smoky air. No other cologne can combat such a combination as well as ‘Amber Absolute’. 

There is amber and musk at its animalistic heart, while a smoky shroud of incense lends a spiritual mystery that almost balances the primal beast lurking within the bottle. Almost… because that dirty, flirty, anything-but-religious fervor cannot be contained or balanced by incense or hints of vanilla. Despite their valiant efforts to sweetly tamp down the fiery tongues of fragrance unleashed with each spritz, this is one monster that refuses to be tamed. It’s like fucking around with fire – sooner or later someone gets hurt – and what a lovely way to burn.

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Dazzler of the Day: Lauren Ford

Back when I was managing the Romaine Brooks Gallery at the Capital Pride Center, I met a young volunteer named Lauren Ford who had just started working at the center. She would join us for the 1st Friday art events and we would share stories. A few weeks ago, I was attending the inaugural LGBTQ+ Convening by the Governor’s office, and Lauren was one of the presenters at the session I was in. It was a happy moment seeing someone I met so many years ago doing so well, and I’m honored to name her as the Dazzler of the Day. Here’s a bit more about her:

Lauren Ford is a Licensed Master Social Worker and the External Contracts Training Manager for the Sydney Albert Training and Research Institute (SATRI) within Northern Rivers Family of Services. As a Training Manager, Lauren coordinates, designs, and delivers professional development and continuing education curriculum for nonprofits, schools, healthcare organizations, and government agencies. Lauren pairs her background in psychotherapy and case management with her training in adult learning theory and curriculum design to build interactive courses that reflect evidence-based mental health approaches and techniques. With over a decade of experience as a mental health professional, Lauren has developed a wide and dynamic skillset through experiences working with local community centers, large nonprofits and statewide advocacy organizations. Her areas of expertise include trauma-informed care and resiliency building, verbal de-escalation, affirming care for LGBTQ people and families, and public welfare policy.

Lauren earned both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in Social Work at the University at Albany. In 2012, Lauren joined the Big Brother’s Big Sister’s program and has enjoyed a 10 year long friendship with her “little brother.” She was a 2014 fellow with the Capital District chapter of the New Leaders Council and went on to serve on the chapter’s board in roles such as Selections and Alumni Chair for 6 years. Since 2018, she has also served as a mentor for the Emerging Nonprofit Leadership Accelerator (ENLA) program through the Institute of Nonprofit Leadership Development at the University at Albany. Currently, Lauren lives in the city of Albany with her partner and enjoys going to the movies – especially super hero and horror films, exploring museums and nature, and volunteering as a cake baker for “Jazzy Sun Birthday’s” a program that supports children and families experiencing homelessness served by St. Catherine’s Center for Children.

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A Recap Fit for a New Jacket

Behold the humble recap, repository of the past, and too often ignored or crafted hastily because of it. As someone who doesn’t like to indulge in nostalgia all that often, I find fall returns me to the past more than perhaps any other season. This year, I am allowing myself a few looks back, and honoring the process of acknowledging what came before. That bleeds into this recap, for which I’m donning a new jacket in honor of that sort of honoring. To truly bury the demons of the past, we must fully face them. Whenever I’ve done that, I usually find they’re not really demons at all – just the faded remnants of memory and circumstance, assembled into something far more sinister in my imagined memory palace. Let’s look over the past week, then lay it to rest. Coming later this week, the online premiere of a long-forgotten project from 2009… and it’s going to be on fire…

Do not place faith in false idols, sunny though they may seem

A planned fall weekend with my friend Kira took a tragic turn

Amid the fall, some things were fresh as a summer daisy

These dog’s balls were something to be seen

With a chill in the air, it was high time for tea season, and this tea is hot.

A last letter to the first man who ever kissed me.

The smell of sex in the 90’s

A rainy moment ripe for meditation

The morning glory of love.

Andy preserved these jars of summer jewels to see us through the fall and winter.

Dazzlers of the Day included Dan Reynolds, Nick Jonas, Florence Pugh, Kenneth M. WalshMichael Breyette, and Rufus Wainwright.

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Jars of Summer Jewels

It’s been a number of years since Andy went on a canning spree, and just as he returned to the apple pie a couple of weeks ago, so too has he returned to a family tradition that brings back memories of his loved ones. 

Canning is not a quick and easy process, and it’s far too involved for me to attempt. For Andy, it was a part of his childhood, and as he bustled about the kitchen I stayed out of his way, happily watching this season’s first showing of ‘Clue’ in the family room. 

As he carefully preserved a big box of summer’s ripest tomatoes, I realized that he was putting summer away into each jar. As the fall ripens into winter, we will have little bites of summer jewels in our pasta sauces and soups, carrying on his history, and warming our home. 

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Dazzler of the Day: Rufus Wainwright

Rufus Wainwright blew the beautiful proverbial roof off the Troy Savings Bank Music Hall last night, and while the performance alone would have been enough to earn this Dazzler of the Day, decades of a spectacular career are proof that he’s been dazzling us all along. Accompanying himself alternately on piano and guitar, Wainwright was somehow able to go from the most delicate ballad (‘Poses’ and Hallelujah’) to the most rollicking anthem (‘Pretty Afternoon’) along with some operatic grandeur thrown in for good measure (yes, he’s written a couple of operas). He explained how during his Robe Recitals and Quarantunes sessions (which, judging from audience reaction, seemed to have earned him a bunch of new fans) he found a way to take even his most bombastic and grandiose songs and perform them in a smaller but no less magnificent manner. That one man alone could make such a glorious ruckus is truly a testament to his talent and power.

The set list spanned most of his career, and returned to several classic favorites such as ‘Beauty Mark’ and ‘Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk’ – the latter taking on a world-weary wisdom and resignation, particularly in the way he solemnly drew out its ending. A majestically dark ‘Early Morning Madness’ was another highlight, as was a haunting encore of ‘Going to a Town’ which gains more resonance and meaning with each troubling, passing day.

With banter that was typically witty and sparkling (he had an encounter with the current King of England that sounded like a hilarious doozy) Wainwright remained the consummate show-man, able to enthrall with each musical story. It was an evening where one of America’s greatest living artists was at the top of his game, performing such pretty things in such a pretty place, and reminding us all of the power an artist, and a remarkable human being, can wield in our crazy world.

{Check out his website here for upcoming tour dates.}

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The [Morning] Glory of Love

Mornings are cool and wet now, often hazy with fog and dew. Any day now there will be a frost on the blades of grass. If it’s hard enough they will buckle and crumple. Fall gives its glory and takes it away overnight. Until that happens, though, the garden will throw out a few morning glory flowers, even if it’s overcast, and on those days they may last a little longer. 

This morning’s post is not about the flowers however, it’s about the unheralded leaves. These heart-shaped beauties go unnoticed or unremarked upon because the glory has always honored the blooms. Yet look at what we’ve been missing – leaves that are perfectly-shaped hearts – little valentines in mottled green, delicately lining the vines like some love-festooned garland. Seeing the garden in a new way, and discovering unnoticed bits of magic now that the bombast of summer has gone away, is a practice of the garden that never grows old or tiresome. It elicits a child-like wonder in me, and when you still have the capacity to be astounded all over again at the ripe age of 47, then there’s still hope for you, in a literal sense. Hope is there… for you… in the cool foggy mist of a morning when love appears tangled in a pretty vine. 

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A Rainy Moment Ripe For Meditation

With some fiery soul-searching going on here this fall, a recent rainstorm provided the perfect window for an afternoon meditation, and a literal and metaphorical cool-down for this site, and everything going on in the world, and in my mind. 

It had been a surprisingly-sunny and warmer-than-expected day. When I went out to get the mail, it was muggy and almost hot – a deceptive throwback to summer weather, the kind of day that sometimes deels like a bonus, even if we are not quite at the point where we need it. In fact, the mugginess was a little too much, and after a few days of decidedly-fall-like weather, it felt like we were being jerked backward just as we were getting our autumn bearings. That’s when the rain began. 

Big drops, heavy and loud, began smacking the pavement and the roof. They landed in wide circles on the sidewalk out front, shimmering on the driveway as they increased in speed and quantity. Immediately, there was a shift in air – it was cooler and the sky grew darker. Fall was insisting on being present here, even if it meant kicking summer back with a thunderous clap. For once, I didn’t mind the rain. 

The skies opened up fully, and a downpour raced down the roof and into the sudden pools of water beside the house. Opening up a window in the living room, I sat down to do my afternoon meditation to the sounds and scent of this rainstorm. 

Fall is welcome here. 

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Dazzler of the Day: Michael Breyette (One More Time)

Only the very exceptional artists and creators manage to be named Dazzler of the Day twice in one year (see his first crowning here), but as we are gearing up for the holiday season, I look to Michael Breyette to provide beauty and whimsy and the entertaining scenarios that make the holidays ho-ho-hot. He often makes a seasonal splash with his work, and this year’s Hallowe’en work is no exception (entitled Dr. Strangeglove, you must see it for yourself here). 

His website is a glorious repository for his work, and it offers behind-the-scenes explanations of his art and its progress – a fascinating peek into the life of a working artist. Too many people, artists especially, don’t get appreciated or honored as much as they deserve in their lifetime – may this little Dazzler go some way toward recognizing the beauty and wonder that Breyette consistently gives to the world. 

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The Smell of Sex in the 90’s: Cheese Please Louise

My sexual awakening happened in the 1990’s, just as Calvin Klein’s ‘One’ unisex cologne was taking off everywhere, and his androgynous black and white ad campaigns with Kate Moss and Mark Wahlberg were all the rage. Marky Mark never did much for me; my attention was grasped by this male model’s non-gaze and prone pose for Davidoff’s ‘Zino’ cologne, so much so that I bought it blindly, without trying it on, and it was a bum decision that I have regretted ever since. (Kids, don’t try this at home, despite what this post says.)

Davidoff was responsible for ‘Cool Water’ which, being the good burgeoning gay boy I was in the 90’s, was a staple for my earliest fragrance forays, right next to Curve by Liz Claiborne. I think you can still find both at your local CVS or Walgreen’s. I shamefully digress… but that was the ghastly initiation into cologne that most of us had at the time. (Tom Ford wasn’t even the Creative Director at Gucci then.)

When I got the bottle of Zino back to my dorm room, and discovered its less-than-desirable odor, I decided not to waste it and instead put it to work as part of my own little ‘Sex’ project, directly inspired by Madonna. More on that, and her, later this fall when we properly pay homage to her ‘Erotica’ period and its 30th anniversary this October. Back then, it was all new, as was this Nick Scotti song on which she sang back-up. It was originally written for her, but she gave it to him and only appears as a backing vocalist. Somehow, even that small contribution gives it the Madonna magic that was in full effect in the early 90’s

I put this song on a mix tape I made for that ‘Sex’ project, because in the early 90’s that’s what we were still doing. A playlist was an unfathomable idea way back then, and we were limited to the 90 minutes of a double-sided cassette tape. That was more than enough time to aurally get off, and this song kicked off such an aural extravaganza as my friends opened their mail to xeroxed images of me in and out of my Calvins. Baby steps for a budding project-maker. 

While I’d like to say that I did it all for a driving creative desire to flesh out the fantasies running through my mind, that is only partially true. A significant impetus for why I did it all, and perhaps why I still do it, was to make sure that my friends – the people who meant the most to me during those treacherous high school years I almost didn’t survive – would not forget me. If I assigned myself with things that they would see or experience – such as Madonna, or a cologne ad and fragrance that would take the mainstream media by storm – then maybe they would remember me. A childish, futile effort, to be sure, but one that I took up with all the fanfare and hoopla of a proper pop culture lightning strike. 

As for Zino by Davidoff, it only ever got to be the signature fragrance of that ‘Sex’ project release, scenting the writing and photos I sent out to my friends during the month of October in the year of our Lord 1993.  

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