05/14/2021

4ajbukoshka
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4ajbukoshka
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10
"The Color Purple" and Me - Of Great Dislike and Inner Values
A very good day to you, dear readers!
I start directly with a question: what is actually the (correct) plural form of Parfuma and Parfumo?
May I call you parfumi? Parfumas and Parfumos? Is the word even German, Italian or possibly even Russian?
Already at the introduction I seem to despair today. Wait until I take a closer look at the bottle.
By the way, you can find the perfume description from the next but one paragraph.
The color purple.
One or the other who has read something of mine before knows about my dislike for this color. I never tire of proclaiming it loudly.
"Purple," to me, is lilac appearing in droves, the smell of which I find unpleasant and far too strong from yards away.
Purple is also often infamous as the "color of unsatisfied women," and I remember too well the reaction, sounded in unison, when once in my life, at a wedding, I was forced to show up at the bride's request in purple frock, a pompous dress with a bow that measured about half my height.
"Purple is what comes out when you subtract from blue and red, respectively, what distinguishes those same colors. It is unsatisfactory in terms of formation." my physics teacher had once crooned it, perhaps the cleverest words of his career as a teacher and possibly at the same time an approach to explaining the transfer of meaning of this color into a sexual context.
Purple was also the favorite color of an older "cousin" of mine whose clothes I had to wear as a child. What came of putting x number of too big dresses and tops on a child five years younger? Hopefully there aren't too many photos of that, because I was able to catch on very quickly and continue to help myself to my brothers' wardrobe, in which you would never have detected even a hint of purple. Since my brothers are pretty much the coolest people in this universe, I think it's obvious to everyone what the conclusion is.
"The Color Purple" gave me absolute overkill in a different way, though: in the form of a Steven Spielberg film that I had to watch in the original English at the age of six (since it hadn't been dubbed into Russian, at the time anyway).
With a probability of almost 100%, this is(s) a masterpiece, the excellence of which, however, I cannot acknowledge or even judge, as I will not watch it now as an adult.
"Purple" to me is the color of the stuff nightmares are made of.
So this bottle has been staring at me from afar, in its bizarre "I'm a broken UFO trying to pull a Donna Karan" form.
Ugly, incredibly ugly, and unwieldy to boot.
That what is contained in such a vessel consisting of ugliness can be well and good times beautiful and lovely, has proven besides the extraterrestrial jasmine bomb of Mugler Polli-Chicken^ already many times.
Therefore, I can not be deterred and dare death-defying the first spray (initially, however, on paper, because Paco Rabanne should now really not per se inner values and a heart of gold impute).
Fan fan fan. Uh là là. What is that?
There's a bit of spice and soap in the air. Since the place is almost empty, that can only be from me.
So I spray one on my wrist. It smells fruity and I have an association of a toy made of wood that smells like blackberry, which you can rub and afterwards your fingers smell like blackberry (and are a bit discolored). There used to be something like that for us, for example for department stores, I think anyway (I don't know the name, hopefully there was in Germany too).
The spice I can not define, but chili it is not for my nose. It is also rather several spices mixed together, because the impressions that reach my nose vary.
During a walk, this pleasant soapy smell wafts around me, becoming more floral, creamy and making me think of Nivea. Maybe that's osmanthus, because I have absolutely no idea what osmanthus smells like. But it seems like it would be a perfect dance partner to join jasmine in a long, ravishing waltz on the dance floor (I'd rather watch, with my two left feet).
A few hours later, the sweetness has subsided, the scent is still floral, slightly creamy, but above all feminine.
This is exactly how I haven't smelled it before, so if "Ultraviolet" is hinting at being outside the usual spectrum: Okay.
He has not really pulled me out of the socks, however, my nose has flattered and my ego felt a little bit winged and the art of debauched exaggeration have the designers probably still a little better than me.
I would never buy "Ultraviolet" because of the bottle alone and also this is not a fragrance that seems to be created for me.
But it is beautiful, a choice you could make whenever you can't decide - and always be right.
I can't think of an inappropriate occasion for the comrade here - and would be very happy to watch it on a man someday.
I guess this is one of those things, then, for which perfumistas and perfumistos invented the word "everwalker".
Because "Ultraviolet", as abgespacet he may sound and look, always goes.
^ Dear Polli Chicken, if you're reading this: you know I think purple is cute only on purple chickens and appreciate your expertise and charming nature above all else.
I start directly with a question: what is actually the (correct) plural form of Parfuma and Parfumo?
May I call you parfumi? Parfumas and Parfumos? Is the word even German, Italian or possibly even Russian?
Already at the introduction I seem to despair today. Wait until I take a closer look at the bottle.
By the way, you can find the perfume description from the next but one paragraph.
The color purple.
One or the other who has read something of mine before knows about my dislike for this color. I never tire of proclaiming it loudly.
"Purple," to me, is lilac appearing in droves, the smell of which I find unpleasant and far too strong from yards away.
Purple is also often infamous as the "color of unsatisfied women," and I remember too well the reaction, sounded in unison, when once in my life, at a wedding, I was forced to show up at the bride's request in purple frock, a pompous dress with a bow that measured about half my height.
"Purple is what comes out when you subtract from blue and red, respectively, what distinguishes those same colors. It is unsatisfactory in terms of formation." my physics teacher had once crooned it, perhaps the cleverest words of his career as a teacher and possibly at the same time an approach to explaining the transfer of meaning of this color into a sexual context.
Purple was also the favorite color of an older "cousin" of mine whose clothes I had to wear as a child. What came of putting x number of too big dresses and tops on a child five years younger? Hopefully there aren't too many photos of that, because I was able to catch on very quickly and continue to help myself to my brothers' wardrobe, in which you would never have detected even a hint of purple. Since my brothers are pretty much the coolest people in this universe, I think it's obvious to everyone what the conclusion is.
"The Color Purple" gave me absolute overkill in a different way, though: in the form of a Steven Spielberg film that I had to watch in the original English at the age of six (since it hadn't been dubbed into Russian, at the time anyway).
With a probability of almost 100%, this is(s) a masterpiece, the excellence of which, however, I cannot acknowledge or even judge, as I will not watch it now as an adult.
"Purple" to me is the color of the stuff nightmares are made of.
So this bottle has been staring at me from afar, in its bizarre "I'm a broken UFO trying to pull a Donna Karan" form.
Ugly, incredibly ugly, and unwieldy to boot.
That what is contained in such a vessel consisting of ugliness can be well and good times beautiful and lovely, has proven besides the extraterrestrial jasmine bomb of Mugler Polli-Chicken^ already many times.
Therefore, I can not be deterred and dare death-defying the first spray (initially, however, on paper, because Paco Rabanne should now really not per se inner values and a heart of gold impute).
Fan fan fan. Uh là là. What is that?
There's a bit of spice and soap in the air. Since the place is almost empty, that can only be from me.
So I spray one on my wrist. It smells fruity and I have an association of a toy made of wood that smells like blackberry, which you can rub and afterwards your fingers smell like blackberry (and are a bit discolored). There used to be something like that for us, for example for department stores, I think anyway (I don't know the name, hopefully there was in Germany too).
The spice I can not define, but chili it is not for my nose. It is also rather several spices mixed together, because the impressions that reach my nose vary.
During a walk, this pleasant soapy smell wafts around me, becoming more floral, creamy and making me think of Nivea. Maybe that's osmanthus, because I have absolutely no idea what osmanthus smells like. But it seems like it would be a perfect dance partner to join jasmine in a long, ravishing waltz on the dance floor (I'd rather watch, with my two left feet).
A few hours later, the sweetness has subsided, the scent is still floral, slightly creamy, but above all feminine.
This is exactly how I haven't smelled it before, so if "Ultraviolet" is hinting at being outside the usual spectrum: Okay.
He has not really pulled me out of the socks, however, my nose has flattered and my ego felt a little bit winged and the art of debauched exaggeration have the designers probably still a little better than me.
I would never buy "Ultraviolet" because of the bottle alone and also this is not a fragrance that seems to be created for me.
But it is beautiful, a choice you could make whenever you can't decide - and always be right.
I can't think of an inappropriate occasion for the comrade here - and would be very happy to watch it on a man someday.
I guess this is one of those things, then, for which perfumistas and perfumistos invented the word "everwalker".
Because "Ultraviolet", as abgespacet he may sound and look, always goes.
^ Dear Polli Chicken, if you're reading this: you know I think purple is cute only on purple chickens and appreciate your expertise and charming nature above all else.
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