State of Play

Dear reader,

Well. Things have not precisely gone as expected.

For one, I started working at a corporation where perfume in the office was not exactly banned, but certainly not encouraged. The mix of coworkers at the office changed too -- I was used to like-minded people around my age, and suddenly found myself the youngest member of a team full of married workaholics. It was also a corporation where I sat 9 hours a day at a desk, staring at a screen, and feeling as though my soul was steadily being drained dry. And did I mention that it qualified as a "finanical", aka the corporations that were particularly damaged in the economic collapse? Going to work got to the point where it was like reporting for detention... or an execution. When you're at a job like that, it has the effect of bleeding everything else in your life dry too; you come home and have no energy to write or cook or think or do anything more than slump in a chair and watch cable news or crime procedurals. You lose all sense of perspective, and it all gets rather unhealthy.

And so it went, for 10 long months. And then? Then my company downsized, and I was unemployed. Strange, isn't it, that it took losing my job to wake up?

So now I'm back. Luckily, I wasn't in a total coma over the past year; I managed to amass quite a range of samples, as well as a few local perfumes that are truly a breed apart (not always a good thing, though always interesting). So I'll be able to start posting sample reviews pretty swiftly. Now that I have time to kill and need to save money, I'm also posting on a slightly more off-topic blog, Hobo Kitchen, which is about budget cooking. Make of it what you will.

Check in when you can, and I know it's a tough job market out there and people have all sorts of responsibilities to keep in mind, but -- man. I can't tell you how much better my mental state is now that I'm not at that job anymore. It wasn't my choice to leave, and I miss the income, but it might have saved my mind.

Eliza

Back from Beyond

New Zealand is a lovely country, reader. It's green and lush and gorgeous, surrounded by turquoise waters stretching out forever under cornflower-blue skies. The clouds racing by overhead are just as white and puffy as the sheep dotting the hills. Goofy orange-billed black birds with absurdly gangly red legs watch you from the roadside, and Christmas is marked by an explosion of red spiky flowers on the pohutukawa trees.

In my experience, it's mainly a visual experience. Granted, this could have a lot to do with the fact that I was mainly based in Wellington, where the wind enjoys blowing old ladies over at the slightest provocation. The wind eagerly seeks out anything it can and promptly whips it out into the Pacific -- scarves, documents, children under 10. Facing such odds, mere scents don't really have a chance.

That's not to say I didn't try; but here's another thing about NZ. There are 4 million people there. In a city like Wellington, that means you will soon find yourself recognising people on the street. And if you're skulking around their perfume halls, that means the staff at the beauty counter will soon become quite suspicious about you.

So if you're looking to test perfumes, don't go to New Zealand. If you're looking for espresso that will ruin you for all others, for vistas that will strike you dumb, and lovely fabulous people with a dry sense of humour and a bloody annoying accent, then book your tickets now. I've only been back in the US two weeks, and I already miss it dearly.

Dear All

Was it the JLo fragrance that did it? I'll never know. All I can tell you is that my laptop suddenly started making this awful fan noise, the software collapsed, the power system fried, and I kept getting a very elusive whiff of "Still". After a month of toting the machine around town, I finally managed to find a kindly repairperson who did his Mac-whispering thing and ordered new parts. So we're back.

Since regaining access to the blog, I've noticed that there are a couple of readers who are less than pleased with my assessment/knowledge/general comportment. That's understandable -- perfume's a pretty personal thing, and at times a very emotional thing. If I scoff at something you were wearing when your husband proposed or the scent your late mother used to wear, it's not surprising the reaction is indignant.

I stated pretty frequently in earlier entries that my judgements are coloured not only by my personal body chemistry and age, but also by my own sense memory. Admittedly I tailed off on those sorts of disclaimers recently, mostly because I felt it was getting repetitive -- but it does still stand. This is by no means an impartial perfume blog; it's completely partial and very particular to my own reaction.

Please do continue leaving comments, good or bad. But I did want to assure all readers that I'm not trying to lay down a comprehensive judgement on perfumes -- it'd be foolish to even try, given how vivid the difference can be from wrist to wrist.

(And as a side note: Given that I have relocated to the far side of the ocean, I don't have the most brilliant access to fragrances. If you'd like to see a perfume reviewed on this site, feel free to email me or leave a comment suggesting it and I'll do what I can to source it. If you happen to have a sample of it lying around and would like to pop it in an envelope and post it, email me and I'll give you the address. I guarantee that anyone who takes the time to post a sample will get a prompt review.)

And with that bit of housekeeping done, back to the fun stuff.

Eliza