When the world goes dark, and the shit gets real, the only thing to do is go delusional.
These pretty things, these gorgeous scents, these flights of olfactory fantasy – they help me escape. They help us all escape.
The devil lurks in the scarlet details, in the blood moon and the blood-shot eye. He tempts with strange fruit and awaits his prey. Red as the pomegranate seed and metallic as the rust, the air is acrid and thick with smoke.
There are ways to hide, such as in a disguise – the prettier the better – of an orange coat, a fuchsia scarf and a plaid wool bag woven in shades of rose fire.
There are ways to blend in – a smoky match to the heavy air, in amber and musk – where you can envelop yourself in a fragrance that mirrors the autumn and burns into the air its own beauty.
Reclining on tufted velvet, in sensuous delight, he raises a starfruit onto his tongue while more forbidden fruit, sweet and soothing to the mouth, waits in tempting anticipation.
Pulling silk around his neck, he feels like dying a little, but the fragrance of the Amalfi shore reminds him of the beauty in this world, bringing him to a place that he’s never even been.
Maybe that’s the point of these silly scented trinkets.
Maybe they mask the sad futility of it all.
Maybe they are Absolutely Vital.
“If it’s going to stress you out to have a sense of style, don’t do it. The important thing is to be comfortable so you can get on with your life. But I do feel people miss a lot, if that’s how they approach style. They miss out on this whole creative experience.” ~ Iris Apfel
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