Today I spent a good long time with the rep in Barneys, talking about various Frédéric Malle perfumes. She HATES Lipstick Rose, isn't crazy about Carnal Flower, and kept urging me to pick Musc Ravageur because a certain actor favors it, which she knows because he recently bought a bottle from her right here in San Francisco.
She wouldn't reveal his name so I said, "We all know it's George Clooney." Her eyes lit up and she said, "How did you know?!"
Afterward, my friend Beth whispered to me, "I don't know what's creepier, the woman going on about this mysterious actor and his perfume or you knowing who it was."
How amazing that we've now confirmed that Musc Ravageur is what Clooney wears! And there's Luca Turin in The Guide positing that George wears classy shit like Chanel Pour Monsieur.
George Clooney wearing Musc Ravageur is like me layering Le Labo Labdanum 18 with Jean Desprez Bal à Versailles: way too many animals in the barnyard! Talk about gilding the lily! Talk about over-egging the pudding! Go on -- just talk about it!
Favorite KP Smells YouTube comment of the day:
After being informed that KP doesn't in fact shave a "little nick" in her eyebrow, that it's a scar from a childhood accident, peacelovecoexist writes:
"It looks super cool, even if it is an accident! Maybe you'll start a new trend!"
Does she mean a trend of childhood accidents? Will friends of peacelovecoexist start hurling their children into rosebushes so they can be cool like KP? I hope not. And, by the way, was there ever a question about peace and love being able to coexist?
Coincidentally, I'm wearing By Kilian Love tonight. (And I'm not engaged in combat.) And while I strongly suspect you'll hate it, I urge you to open your mind. Sure, it smells like a marshmallow meringue, but it also possesses this cold screechiness that moves it slightly to the left of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.
My favorite contemporary writer, maybe my favorite writer of all time, Geoff Dyer, often speaks of his fictional work as being an inch away from reality, but he says it's within that inch where all of the art occurs. It's the same thing with Love. Though I'm sure Mr. Dyer wouldn't appreciate his line being re-applied to a marshmallow perfume.
I like the idea of the "inch of art". The crack with all the good stuff in it. Like in between the sofa cushions.