When it's cold outside, stay in and (window) shop

Jenna Rose Handmade, Gray Ships Tea Towel and large Ships Zipper Tote Bag
I'm pretty smitten. And she's in Hamilton! One of my old hometowns. It IS my birthday this month...

Flying Bird Botanicals, Vanilla Rose Cacao Lip Bliss
Oh my. Yes please!

OhKuol - Natural Soft Druzy Necklace Agate Geode

Bug Under Glass - all so pretty

Karla Wheeler Design, Fireworks ring

Labradorite rings. I can't get enough of these! I love that they are cut
to sparkle too, I haven't seen (ie noticed) that before.
Top: Indigo Silver Studio, Midnight - Dark and Flashy
Middle: MoodiChic, Rustic Sterling Labradorite Ring
Bottom: Little Bug Jewelry, Labradorite Solitaire Stacking Ring

Anna See, Barn Owl Lino Cut Print

Plume Natural Perfumes - especially interested in Medici Cocoa,
Gingerbread & Fir, and Coffee & Cedar. This Vanilla/Anise lip balm looks nice too. 

Jennifer Baughan, Articulated Paper Dolls 

Woodstorming, Crochet Snowflakes Decoration

Revisions, Antique Silver Spoon Ring - Meadowbrook 1936

Lolide, Fingerless Gloves - extra long

MaryJill, Valentine Foxes

Shiny things caught in my net

Starry Night Over the Rhone

 A little round-up of some of the neatest stuff I've come across lately:

(via heartbeets/aka Sweet Anthem's tumblr)
Serena Malyon uses the magic of tilt-shift to transform Van Gogh's works into 3D. I think they're stunning.

View of Saintes-Maries, 1888 (detail)

Wheat Field with Rising Sun, 1889 (detail)

Mountains at Saint-Remy, 1889 (detail)

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Camping in the Cotswolds: Junkaholique blog
A gorgeous blog to follow in general, but these photos of their recent camping trip are especially lovely.

Photo: Artemis Russell

Photo: Artemis Russell

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Jen Campbell of This Is Not the Six Word Novel writes about Weird Things Customers Say at Ripping Yarns, the London bookshop where she works. It is hilarious, especially if you work with the public and most especially if you work with the public and with books. Start with the first entry and work forwards to the most current, which is #7. She's just announced that she will be collecting them for a book! Huzzah!

Customer: Hi, do you have any new books?
Me: We're an antiquarian bookshop - our stock is out of print books.
Customer: So other people have touched them?
Me: Presumably, yes.
Customer: I don't think I'll bother, thanks.
Me: OK.

(from #2)


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Susannah Conway recommended this sweet peppermint lip balm by Oakmoss and well... it's lip balm! So I had to try it! It came a couple of days ago and I've been using it ever since. It's lovely. I ordered some samples of soaps and perfume oil too and everything was beautifully gift wrapped. Peace is a wonderfully spicy scent, and my fave of the bunch.

Photo from the etsy shop

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Lucy Knisley is a talented comic-maker and I am a tiny bit giddy over her take on a certain beloved series of books. OMGryffindor!!! They're funny, so full of nerdy detail and do a great job of capturing some of the... (ahem) magic of the series. If you love them too, the good news is that you can download all eight posters from her website! The bad news is that due to legal trickiness she really can't charge for all the hard work that went into them and so is simply asking for a donation. I think they're totally worth it.
And look: she and her studio/roommate have re-created the Black Family Tree! Neato!

Book Four. Click to see the glorious detail! Or, better yet, check them all out on Lucy's site.

Rosaceae Fragaria

Fragaria sp. "Parker Earl" by Deborah Griscom Passmore c.1892-1909

June is a fragrant month. You catch their perfume before you even see them: every corner market sets out baskets of edible rubies. Heavier than they look, and bursting with juice, it is best to eat them immediately lest they spoil before you taste them.  Grass sprouts all vibrant and wet, only to be mowed down, releasing that familiar green scent. Flowering trees wave their blossoms above the sidewalk, bathing pedestrians in botanical pheromones. Wild rose bushes grow thick with thorny protection and produce deceptively insubstantial flowers which can, none the less, send out powerful apian invitations.

Walking through the city is a pleasure in June.

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Did you know that strawberries are not berries at all, but rather fruiting roses?

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Along comes July to wilt us all. The word on the street is "humidex". Bright greens fade in the field, waiting for August to paint them gold. The air is heavy with moisture, and blue skies quickly turn deepest purple - clouding over at a moment's notice, flashing with electricity and pelting the earth with rain. July's perfumery consists of sun-baked sidewalks, chlorine and the savoury saliva-inducing sweet-burnt scent of barbecued meat. Which is tortuous for those of us without access to a porch or yard. I'm always looking for things I can drench in bbq sauce.

The strawberries are looking puckered and soft at the fruit stands, and it seems as if their season is coming to an end. Don't pass those suckers by though, even when they look a bit sad they're still good for freezing, blending and baking.

This is what I plan to do with the ones sitting in my fridge - Strawberry cupcakes. Mine won't be to celebrate a birthday (well, I could celebrate a little, since I do know a couple of sweet July babies) and I may add coconut. I don't relish turning on the oven, but one of those sudden summer storms just hit so maybe it won't be so bad. Besides, who can resist... just look at them:



Photo from The Muffin Myth


* Edit to add: I made those cupcakes Tuesday and they were DELICIOUS! Sadly I didn't have a ripe banana so I used Earth Balance instead of butter because that's what I did have on hand, and I tossed in a bit of unsweetened coconut. Totally lovely. Needless to say, they're already gone.

Smelling of Purple

Photo by Emerson Merrick of An Apple a Day

I am one of those sensitive folks (in a long line of sensitive folks) who hates perfume. I glare openly at abusers who have lost all sense of proportion and wield scent like a weapon. What right do they have to asault my nasal passages like that?

And yet, I confess that I wear it too.

I suppose I should amend my previous statement: I hate most perfume. I hate the majority, but I covet that tiny intoxicating minority. I love a handful of perfumes; the kind with fancy labels, made in small batches, possibly in someone's kitchen, with ingredients described as "locally sourced", "organic" and "all natural". You know the kind of thing. The kind of thing you could practically eat. 

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In the language of the perfumer, I am considered gourmand. Ok, ok. In any language I am considered gourmand. I am picky though - far pickier about what scent I wear than what food I eat. Not that I am indiscriminate about my diet, but when it comes to perfume I seem to have a very narrow range of likes. Whereas with food I am open to experimentation.

One of the unfortunate things I've discovered in my aromatic searching is that gourmand often means spun sugar. I am drawn to scents inspired by foodstuffs but I do not want to smell like confection. It's the richness I'm after, the complexities of spice - both sweet and savoury. It's the difference between eating fresh fruit and hard candy. The fullness is lost, simplified to one sticky,  false note; the living story of the fragrance (and flavour), the botanical roots, are lost and replaced with corn syrup and food dye.

*    *    *



My fantasy goes something like this:

Imagine the spice aisle in a small, old fashioned grocery store. Glass jars full of fine powders: crimson, buttery yellow, every earthen shade of brown. Some jars holding the spices in their original form, fragrant and whole. Full-leaf teas lined up all along the top. Rows of vanilla extract with actual vanilla beans, clove buds, slices of ginger and zezty little strips of orange peel floating in the black depths. Small bottles of dark elixir with slender seed pods just visible in the liquid. Wooden shelving, polished smooth with age. Candles made from bee's wax strung up by their wicks. Barrels of fruit at the end of the aisle - ripe purple plums, dark cherries, plump blackberries. Maybe a few stalks of rhubarb bundled up, sitting in my basket. Imagine, also, that there is a bakery next door, and something fresh and dusted with flour is cooling out of view.

Imagine distilling all of this into a small vial and dabbing it on your skin. Imagine tendrils of scent wrapping themselves around you, invisible to all but your most intimate companions. Imagine catching subtle hints of this throughout the day. 

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It's hard to shop for your nose online, scratching and sniffing forlornly at the monitor. I keep at it because that is the best way to access all of the alchemical entrepreneurs out there, and because I am relentlessly optimistic that one day a brown paper package will arrive containing aromatic perfection.

Actually, a couple of months ago, it did. Or, close to perfection, anyway.

To me it smells purple. Not only purple, but the exact right shade of purple. Dark and fully ripe. Plum, or blackberry wine, with bunches of green herbs and whole spices stewing within. I kind of want to lick my own wrists.

I didn't fall in love instantly. In the pot (it's in solid form) it smells too fruity, too strong. On my skin however, the spice comes through, the green mingles with the purple and it turns mellow and lovely. 

I don't think it's the one (alas, is there such a thing?) (probably not for this fussbudget). It doesn't boast enough vanilla, and not quite enough spice either, but it is delightful and I enjoy smelling of purple while I keep searching. Just so long as I remember not to wield it like an olfactory dagger. Which, actually, when you love how something smells, is harder than I thought.

(This is the perfume, for those who are interested in such things too)