jordyn's bookshelf

there is something about the designated party house that feels quite intimate. a house party where you don’t look up the address and let yourself in, opening the fridge and finding a glass without asking, helping with the party prep when you are early to arrive.

i haven’t seen some of you guys in ages but i can hear a shout across the room beckoning me to join the conversation. a hand swept across my lower back as you pass, completely platonic but intimate nonetheless. it’s the middle of the day or late into the wee hours, i don’t know when im there. it is completely normal to wander upstairs and find us in someone’s room reading tarot and cackling. a lingering hug, an eyebrow raised across the room asking if i want to step out for a cigarette, a warm hand around my waist and a safe drink passed into my hand.

the house holds remnants of old memories: stuffed animal birthday gifts, art tacked up to the wall, a particularly memorable bottle of vodka or wine.

i have longed for this for so long. to be welcomed and loved with such casual intimacy. to be thought of and remembered. to be part of the glue of a group.

reviving my bookstagram with a review of ‘mate’ by ali hazelwood!

there is something so alluring about scent. it's not a new idea, to dig deep into what someone's chosen perfume or cologne says about them. about why we associate smells with people and experiences and memories.

the smell of a magnolia tree in verona in my twenties pulls me back in time to skinned knees and children laughing. a block party with fresh melon and cream and a little rope swing on the tree towering over my childhood home. i walk through the city, wind catching a woman's perfume as she walks by and im back in my uni accommodation getting ready to go out with my friend. i dont see her often these days but i still look for her around the corner when i smell it.

it was one of my first adult purchases. walking into a little perfumery and trying scents. i hate smelling like sticky vanilla, all thick and far too sweet. i love masculine scents, but nothing like oud or cologne or musk or sweat. i wanted this perfume to reflect my insides. to melt into my skin and show to the world who i know i am. two years later i still wear this perfume. its not for everyone, but the euphoria of someone commenting 'you smell so lovely' is like electricity in my veins. (and also the power trip of knowing it's not a trendy brand).

i love perfume, my second skin. i love the chef telling me she knows when i clock in because she smelled me. i love my best friend telling me she smelled someone's and thought i had made it to school after all (i was all about rose perfume at the time) and was sad when it wasn't me. i love someone lingering just a second longer to breathe you in.

mr vadim with his shock of white hair and thick accent, rolling up to class on a harley with his ac/dc shirt and coming to teach a bunch of promising young women from early afternoon until it was time to 'go to home.' his long career in the ballet community, touching lives all across the world. he's gone now, much too soon, but i still smile to think of him on that bike.