Bodleian Libraries, Douce
Rolling hills of green grass squished by kelp, seaspray, orris root, white jasmine, coconut, white sandalwood, and cucumber.
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Dab a bit behind each ear, and you’ll be instantly inspired to alter street signs, shake fruit from your neighbor’s trees, and hide your roommate’s car keys.
Black coconut, gnarly patchouli, and sweet benzoin.
“Of course young women enjoy slashers. Adolescent girls have spent their lives absorbing our cultural disgust for womanhood, only to find themselves thrust into the middle of it, suddenly the butt of every joke. Their underlying anxieties are hit with a toxic sludge of predatory attention, sexual objectification, and impossible standards, growing to fifty times their natural size. It is not easy to become a monster. It is not fun to slip – suddenly and for the rest of your life – out of humanity and into womanhood. Girls are left reckoning with the fact that their social status, their human value, even their basic survival, are all suddenly contingent on men. Thus, at the exact moment they’re beginning to have sex and enter romantic relationships, girls watch stories in which a moment’s lapse in judgment, or a single instance of giving in to temptation, results and agony and annihilation – not because that’s what they want, but because it’s already happening, and they have precious few other ways to process it.”
A wilting corsage of tea roses and white roses, bearing forensic traces of honeyed lip gloss and coconut oil suntan lotion.
A soft aquatic musk with kelp and juniper.
It sure is weird down in Piscesland. Yellow currant, coconut water, carrot shavings, pineapple pulp, queen mandarin rind, and overripe cranberries all dunked in a bubbling and blooping deep blue musk.