Su Hija Esta en Buenas Manos (ROUND 1)
scent of the day: Antiquity 2, by Areej
Antiquity 2 is like a variation on vintage Mitsouko because of the old peach aldehyde he uses in the top: chypre souped up with Cambodian Oud and some patchouli. Maksim’s Café Mystique is comparable but it is weaker, less macho. in few few minutes I was underwhelmed with Antiquity: it smelled a lot to me like Ambre de Coco, which I have—and not only that, it seemed thin like some modern formualtions of Misouko that I have smelled.
After having put it away for several months, today’s return was magnificent. This Antiquity is really good. In my first wears it felt thin: a whispy peachiness over wood. What was good is that even then I did not go blind to it like I might with other fragrances. It always being available for reliable whiffs—that was a win even with my disappointment. But now it is like a thick peachified-oud vintage frag with a musty-damp combo of patchouli and oakmoss. It has some animalic funk to the thing too, which I did not remember.
What I like especially is how this Figment Man like soil rises, minute soil elements in here which adds interesting almost petrichor touch to the smoky-dusty oud always tainted—even hours in—with this peach flavor. War and Peace and Inverno blew me away right from jump. Luwak and Antiquity needed to sit. Antiquity now views for my favorite of the collection. But still, if I had to say, I would give the edge to War and Peace. War and Peace might even better nail the antiquity-vintage feel.
*Let’s workshop this poem about how the foundational tales of Christianity and Islam, despite encoding a similar power-asymmetric relationship with kid brides, differ in terms of freak-off consummation
Su Hija Está en Buenas Manos
Christ arose from a relationship marked by an infinite gap in age and power, holy dew
pearled at dawn with enough rico suave to make Mohammad’s manhandling of Aisha—
portable pocket pussy, brown— look like a spastic mongoloid raping a roped-up camel.
“We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”—Kafka (against the safe-space cancel culture pushed by anti-art bullies, left and right)
