The Black Narcissus

I swear someone is wearing Caron Parfum Sacre in this train carriage tonight

Its musky rose mytrh is a delicate, sensuous balm to my fractured soul.

And yes : Japanese security guards are, generally, around 120 years old.

You may or may not have noticed, but The Black Narcissus was mysteriously hacked by some random asshole on ‘the Internet’ on Saturday, plunging my mood to fury even though it was looking to be a good day.

My emotional reaction to the situation intrigued me. On the one hand, I felt truly horrified that what could rightly be considered – paltry, in some eyes, if not my own – my ‘life’s work’ – could be erased and the entire fucking site put up for grabs due to some ‘bad actor’ or algorithmic fuckface AI dickhead – whatever ; I understand none of it; none of the terminology, the lingo, the advice I received on ‘servers’ and all the rest of it : I may as well have been beamed in from 1648.

On the other hand, interestingly, I experienced a strange Yoko Ono like artistic contentment in incinerating the past and starting everything from scratch, perfume or non perfume. My groovy days are gone. Writing for Vogue Japan feels like a mirage I invented for my own self esteem. I (can) no longer employ a PR person to implore niche brands to send their latest artifices all the way to Japan. I am on a very different footing, about to embark on a year of retreat and financial diminishment. The book may still be on the museum shelves of a Venetian Palazzo – thanks, Noseprose, for discovering and documenting that, but you can be sure that no Italian film crew will be travelling to my house from Milan to film a commercial – which is what happened just before the pandemic, even though there is no evidence out there now to confirm it – like I say, it feels like i dreamt it up.

still, even if my priorities / future plans have changed, in terms of writing, I am still VERY GLAD that this archive of me, you, perfume, the world, has not just vanished

arigato x

Not familiar with this vintage edt (as opposed to the far more balsamic/vanillic parfum, which I wear on special occasions; I love it for its galbanum contradictions )

This version, dourer, if still slightly mysterious, is musty indeed: a quite different beast. Not sure what feeling it is trying to capture. Great niece of Countess Vol De Nuit ?

Cartier Must enthusiasts out there ::

Any thoughts ?

Both D and I are personally delighted that the cruel Tories – whose priorities are vile – have finally been kicked out of power.

We thought we were disenfranchised back in England. We kind of are, which is one of the reasons my year off of operations, rehabilitation and recuperation will take place in Japan.

But there is nothing acceptable to either of us about the Conservative Party’s basic mindset : ‘austerity’: fuck anyone vulnerable, keep the rich afloat – a policy that disgusts me to my cells – which is why d – unlike me, to my shame – made the humongous effort to vote, with the new legislation allowing expatriates to vote from overseas if they have the adminstrational stamina – to send in all the forms :via proxy; getting an old school friend in Norfolk to vote against the Cruella De Vils ( but without the Dalmatian fur coats and the vintage Dioressence) ——- and spring those bowlegged, shirt hanging, grossly overentitled port- swilling horsey fuckfaces ; – at least temporarily……. out of power.

As we all know, politicians, in general, are self serving, corrupt and bloated, fictitious c****s. I have no doubt that this next government will eventually turn out to be a wormy peach.

But for the time being, just a BIT of compassion; a little more equity : a diminuation in the selfish and horrible, self serving cuntness —- a tad more general humanity, in essence —-—- certainly would not, at least from this far away household’s point of view ——- ——— — go amiss

https://x.com/JonathanPieNews/status/1808078089370349656?t=3dF74gV_EVSN2yhb7Siw4A&s=08

I recently wrote something of a magnum opus on the work of Sophia Grojsman, albeit on pieces of random scrap paper during lessons and in a couple of notebooks. I haven’t yet found the energy nor space to transcribe this to the computer. But I will.

The finishing act was to procure, and then wear, Calvin Klein Eternity. I wore For Men for a while, even if it was never really me; the original composition – so heavy with associating it is RIDICULOUS – I have never properly worn until now.

I am adoring it. It is a revelation (and I hope the students feel the same, as this has immediately become my work scent). Less bracing and exhilarating perhaps than the original —- an utter iconoclasm on its debut in 1988, this current version, bought from a big pharmacy in Fujisawa, the city I work in and am rather sick of, is still very fresh; clean: replete with eugenol, and nothing but Eternity :

cloves

carnations

star gazer lily

rose

heliotrope

violet

chemical freesias

the numbness of dead chrysanthemum

I am in the mood for lilting. To just lay back in a cabin on a tropical island with nothing to do for weeks; months ; years on end. To be lazy and indolent. No infinity pools and corny white beach furniture. Just old weathered chests, mosquito screens ( I have a thing about dengue), the air, and the sea.

For perfume ? When I come back from the water, perhaps Kandilli – a tropical tuberose, white lily and jasmine; ylang ylang and sandalwood filtered through a high SPF factor sunscreen : unctuous ;florally soothing

For the evening, if we do stroll in to town, number 3 – L’Etang Noir, or ‘Black Pond’. A proper spice blend in the manner of Pierre Guillaume’s Un Crime Exotique, the anise, nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, and a strong doseage of ginger spill out from the sweetly ambered base in this roll on concoction like the heavy medicinal odors escaping beneath the shaded wooden slats and windows of the old apothecaries in Chinatown, Singapore. Dense with application. Slightly woozy.

Perhaps my ‘life goals’ are not sufficiently high, but I was so thrilled to see that our first ever gardenia had opened in the front garden when I left the house today.

The scent ?

SUBLIME.

I have come to Isezakicho park to mull and pontificate. The air is grey and heavy : very hot.

The flowers are woozy.

Odor 93, Fusciuni’s masterfloral, is both scary and soothing. At its heart it is a tuberose – a lovely tuberose , but buried in spook and mulch in the vaguely sinister manner of Rochas Mystere. Or vintage Vol De Nuit extrait – there are distinct resonances to Jacques Guerlain’s inimitable classic here, with the pungent narcissus, vanilla, patchouli, a coquette of Guerlainish powder (both scents are. of similar high quality); but also bonfire -intriguing,modern and witchy (……heart-tugging) smirches of tobacco; cumin; guaiac, vetiver; sage.

The peculiar concoction comes on strong, heavy; weird – i haven’t worn it for a couple of years, but it suddenly seduced me this morning, beckoning me to towards it – then, in my view, morphs into one of the most haunting and ghostly modern perfumes ever made.

I am wearing the exquisitely clean and natural smelling Gardenia by Hawaiian FF on my left arm for a white floral reference counterpoint. In contrast – though they are working very nicely together – sometimes the sylvan assassin lurks somewhere in the space ahead of me; then immediately behind, taunting me from different angles in a tuberosial hide and seek; the flowers shadowing and stalking my presence, with a stark, medicinal sweetness

so it turns out I will not be having surgeries from September after all ( the Company has interdicted leaving ship in the middle of the term :when, understandably, the whole purpose of the enterprise – anxious parents paying reams for the privilege of having their children pass the exams for prestigious universities, which then practically guarantee employment in a top tier industry – is for me to guide them all the way through to the finale.)

that I am considered vital enough to the operation is flattering – and I did broadcast everything a tad too soon when the word was ‘discreet’- i should have consulted with the bigwigs more hand rubbingly groveling- apologetic beforehand :: : but the fact that my pain is also discounted as a meaningless samurai by- product could, if I let it, induce corrosive inner magma

the compromise : I will fulfill my duties until January ( if I can walk – if not I will just become addicted to the powerful painkillers the doctor has prescribed me which I feel no affiliation), and then I will be taking the entirety of the 2025 academic year off as an official, semi -paid leave of absence – in which to operate, recover; become healthy again —— my first ever sabbatical

*

i am now on the train to Shinjuku. To watch d perform multiple roles at Gyoen Rosso (including his singing debut)- at the Kings Of Tokyo Stonewall 55th Anniverary.

The tired people in the picture above all magically woke up just on time at Yokohama station.

I took their seats, wearing – as it is full kushinashi gardenia season here :

hair and body bathed in Floris Gardenia shower gel

undershirts sprayed in Penhaligon’s Gardenia

some Tuberosa D’Autunno extract from Florence

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz Tubereuse

and a pure tuberose essential oil picked up in Hawaii