Graveyard Dirt

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"Founded in 1051, this nearly 1,000-year-old monastery has survived centuries of wars, invasions, and empires. Today, it bears the scars of another Russian attack."

Like, seriously, women should be educated about their own bodies.

So if you're on the other side of 45 and suddenly everything is twice as difficult, you get more migraines, your blood pressure goes funny, you can't sleep and you feel like your entire psyche is unstable, you might be experiencing perimenopause. My gyn was like,oh, like think of it like reverse puberty, your entire body rearranges itself. I was like, Great, nobody ever told me it can be this bad. My GP didn't even ask me about my period or hormone levels or anything. He just told me I was probably depressed and sent me to a psychiatrist, who also didn't ask about my period or my hormones. If I hadn't experienced something akin to postpartum depression and therefore know what my body does when its hormones are out of whack, I would have had no idea.

Seriously, nobody tells you how much hormones fuck you up as a woman. Nobody prepares you for this.

I've been trying to talk openly about what's fucking me up right now, and I've discovered that it's a lot more common than I thought it was. I feel like every phase of life finds another way to fuck women over. Puberty: have fun with your period as it adjusts itself. Childbirth: prepare for a hormonal rollercoaster. PMS: oh, it can get BAD. Like, BAD. After birth: hormones out of whack for months, maybe longer. Perimenopause: can fuck up everything. Like literally everything. Osteoporosis is also hormonal. Post menopause: supposedly things get better, but they don't have to.

And I feel like we're left pretty alone dealing with all of it. And we know so little about it that we're left wondering why suddenly nothing works anymore. So we flail about and feel terrible about our sudden inability to cope with life, when it's in fact our bodies screwing with us. Again.

~Solomonic Conjurations in the Cemetery~

'Spray of Flowers and Ferns' (date unknown) by Titian Ramsay Peale (American, 1799 - 1885).

Oil on metal.

The Baltic States have yet to receive acknowledgement for the horrors that happened here from ones that did this to us, let alone an apology.

The Baltic States have yet to receive acknowledgement for the horrors that happened here from ones that did this to us, let alone an apology.

One of the coolest talismans that I've made.

Deer antler pre consecrated and suffumigated multiple times as a talisman of Jupiter, blessed with holy water and Psalms. The symbols were painted with blue nail polish last Thursday when the planet was conjunct Venus near the Ascendant. Later on the same day at Jupiter's hour it was properly consecrated with four blue candles, frankincense, palo santo, brown sugar and Haus of Ophidious' 4th Pentacle of Jupiter Oil. Jupiter and its intelligence were petitioned with lenghty prayers from the Picatrix.

 It has nothing to do with Satan, Mama. It's me.

PARIS–ÉDIMBOURG is inspired by the Scottish Highlands, where vast expanses of green dotted with crystal-clear lakes are surrounded by rugged forests. Featuring crisp notes of juniper berry and cypress paired with the smoky, peaty scent of vetiver, PARIS-ÉDIMBOURG is suggestive of the untamed lands to which Gabrielle Chanel would retreat with the Duke of Westminster. [...] A mysterious fragrance, distinguished by the tension between freshness and obscurity. Notes: Cypress, Juniper Berries / Lavender, Cedar, Vetiver / Musk, Vanilla

29 years ago today, I met my Scottish boyfriend-turned-husband face-to-face for the first time at O'Hare Terminal 5. Little did those two Star Crunch-tossing 17-year-olds know they were meeting their future spouses that June afternoon… 💍

To celebrate the anniversary, I went sample-diving to find something suitable for the occasion and found Chanel's Paris – Édimbourg at the bottom of our untested bag.

("Our" because this perfume thing is something of a shared hobby, although he's largely content just testing, while I'm compelled to test and then word-vomit every thought that crosses my mind.)

Let's experience Olivier Polge's (the nose behind this scent) interpretation of the Scottish Highlands...

Blue-green zingy-fresh. The way wintergreen gum hits with the first few frosted chews, or the way freezing air nips at the depth of your lungs when you first step outside into the cold - that crisp, icy freshness that reminds you you're alive.

As the perfume settles on the skin, the rugged blue-green freshness of the great outdoors shifts from the heather-clad hills of the Highlands to the traditional clothing worn there. Paris – Édimbourg transforms from a place into a thing, becoming a faded perfume scent-stain absorbed into a tweed jacket.

I'm feeling a little cagey about the dry-down because I can easily see the coniferous blue-green going soapy, or, even worse, Lynx-y (a bit of Scottish humour for you). It feels like you're delicately straddling the threshold between perfume and bath product, and the weight threatens to tip towards the "cool mountain air" abyss of men's shower gel.

One jasmine tea, a leftover chicken madras lunch, and a thirty-minute kickboxing workout later, I find I was right to be apprehensive about that blue-green freshness. I was slightly off with the bathroom product prediction, though - it hasn't gone soapy or shower-gel-like, but chalky like toothpaste and crisp like "cool mint" mouthwash.

(Right room, wrong activity. 🤷)

“Golden Silk Orb Weaver” denim jacket and hand-embroidered appliqué patch by Glenn Davis/DoomNGlam on Etsy