Howdy an' welcome to what were supposed to be mah Haiku Monday post--as ya' read below, I tried but could not git mahself organized for a day of playin' hooky an' peck out a post too. Mebbe next week. See if ya can figger out from the pictures below whar' Aunty went to play hooky--an note to MOI: mah own perfume wardrobe is the footnote.
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Haiku Monday is a meme set in motion at Troll Stroll. This week is hosted, an' judged, by Moi, last week's winner. Her chosen theme: PERFUME. Head over to her blog to see what others have submitted--youse gonna be amazed at how creative folks is!
Aunty is racin' to git herself together --must go OOT today. So this heah ain't nuthin' but a poke at the perfume industry. (well, somebody had to be the cynic, right?)
"The Ambergris is produced by the Sperm whale and is present in of all the ancient pharmacopoeias. Ambergris has a very typical scent, animally but of great sweetness that seduces particularly feminine noses, who instinctively recognize the odour that will attract males. In fact, Ambergris, like all aromatic substances of animal origin, is a pheromone and acts directly on the hormonal system through the sense of smell, without physical contact. "
Azure seas mystique,
"Ambergris": Pheromone of
Sperm whale intestine.
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But mah cohorts in crime arrived afore I could upload the post! (An' bless Uncle's dear soul, he took on Granny duty so Aunty could skeedaddle.)
We sped down the peninsula to take a gander at an annual art and antiques extravaganza-- oh mah heavens, y'all: I seen Faberge silver service made in Moscow, Pizzaro, Renoir, Gauguin, Monet, a daid queen's crown, some Romanov's ruby encrusted cane, Tiffany chandeliers, an' enough sparkly gew-gaws to blind me fer a year. Lackin' the crucial feminine gene of jewelry lust, Aunty woulda' come home wif'a charmin' li'l Alfred Sisley (Chicky 9!)waterscape or a Regency commode (Fishy!!) if mah Fairy Godmother had been along fer the ride. ( She's always AWOL in the most crucial moments!)
Natcherly, they doan allow no pictures, guards an' goons made a perimeter forest around the whole shebang, so the pics below is jes' the local flora, though thar' is a snapshot or two wif' some of y'all in mind. (sorry, jes' cell pics) Wish y'all coulda' had this day--the PERFECT FLorida day--sunny, balmy, a riot of tropical colors displayed by flora an' fauna alike.
Us little Match Girls left Oz--empty handed--as the last blush of salmon-colored sky slid under the horizon. We yakked like the ole' hens we is, as we sped nawth through the night, back to real world lives.
windows open to citrus
Sorry to miss the Haiku Monday deadline, but it were fer a good cause--'cause tomorrow it's off to work I go fer a few days: Washington D.C. ain't sunny Florida.
Note to Moi:
Bet ya' would not have thought to see those two...
Southern women of a certain era sneaked into their Mama's Chanel # 5, then Mama allowed as how us ingenues warn't ready to handle the effects of 5 yet, an we would be given a lovely bottle of Chanel 19, the sweet clear, fresh scent appropriate fer a girl not yet old enough to wear a black dress.
When Aunty got the black dress, she discovered that C5 did not mature well on her, but wonder of wonder, # 22 were a remarkable good fit. It is lady-like with a mere hint at an untapped passionate potential.
On t'other hand, Uncle is a fan of Joy. So...# 22 fer day wear, Joy fer Big Event night wear.
What I wish I could show you is a bottle of Krizia. The ORIGINAL Krizia. Hyacinth with orange an' amber...alas, almost impossible to secure. J'adore!
An, sigh....now fer the harsh truth.
Aunty doan wear much of any of it any more. I'se recently been afflicted wif' trigeminal neuralgia, an many strong fragrances set that beast off. I cain't wear at all, an' hardly cologne-- I'se forced to settle for a scented hand cream at the most. I does spritz sheets wif' the #22 onc't in awhile. Sigh.