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Black Opium de YSL: Adicción en forma de perfume

Desde hace un tiempo me enteré de que YSL estrenaba fragancia, cuya imagen estaría estelarizada por una de mis modelos favoritas (y también de Hedi Slimane), la fantástica británica Edie Campbell

Pues la campaña por fin se dio a conocer y yo me siento con más que el derecho, la obligación de compartírtela. Aquí te dejo uno de los distintos cortometrajes dirigidos por Daniel Wolfe.

Y hablando más sobre esta fragancia de nombre tan particular, te cuento que fue creada por los perfumistas Nathalie Lorson, Marie Salamagne, Olivier Cresp y Honorine Blanc. ¿Y a qué huele Opium Black? A pimienta rosa, flor de azahar de naranjo y pera, café, jazmín, vainilla, pachulí y cedro. Una combinación deliciosa, con impacto.

Busca Opium Black de YSL obviamente en Ultrafemme

 

2

Snow Goggles and Snow Blindness

"The arctic sun is very hard on the eyes. While travelling in bright sun on the snow or on the sea, people commonly suffered from snow blindness. Snow goggles (iggaak) made from wood, antler, or ivory protected the eyes. The only light that could enter was by means of a narrow, thin slit. In addition, the interior of the goggles was usually blackened with soot from the qulliq. This further reduced the glare, and hence the strain on the eyes. Nevertheless, Inuit did suffer from snow blindness. They also suffered from other eye ailments.

'A few drops of oil were administered in cases of snow blindness caused in the spring by the reflection of the sun on the snow. When first poured on the eye, the oil produced a very acute burning sensation, but afterwards brought relief to the patient. One would also smear one's face with seal oil. A taboo concerning food was imposed in such a cure: one could not eat the contents of a [caribou] stomach…

Sometimes a whitish substance formed on the globe of the eye. One would permit a louse, tied by a hair, to turn in the substance. With a little patience, one was soon rid of the discomfort’ (Lorson 1968:14-16).” 

In Uqalurait: An Oral History of Nunavut. pp. 253-254.
Lorson, Georges. 1968. Eskimo Therapeutics. Eskimo (78):14-17.

Tuesday

Today we had our second day of athletics. It was track and ball games.I competed in 75 m sprint, novelty race and hockey dribble.

Everyone is cheering for their houses which are Gordon-Green, Patterson-Red, Lorson-Blue and the best team ever Dennis-Yellow/which I am in/My eardrums were nearly blocked by all the screams and yelling of the house songs.My aim was not to come last in 75 m sprint and I didn’t so I was pretty proud of myself.

Then suddenly last minute I got told that I was doing the 1500 m because they needed another person to do it, letting you know now that I am not at all a very fast runner but you still get points for your house just by participating so I went and did it.

The aim of all the cheering was to win the House Spirit award as well as going for your fellow team mates and encouraging everyone to try their hardest.In the end Patterson won the House Spirit which Dennis have won in the past years,but Patterson came last in the ranking.Lawson came 3rd, Gordon came 2nd and Dennis won! yay

After school my mum came with her dad and we all went to the park and the beach with Kuda and I still managed to run around with her after a very eventful day.

Rori

so few know.

sometimes the darkness creeps but the light won’t go out.

endless words flow beyond my skull and eyelids, endless sounds and shapes.

opening my eyes to all, the flow is before me, avoiding me, but slowly coming towards me

i stretch my hand to to the sky, feeling the cool misty stars drift idly past

idea idea IDEAS idea idea

power flows within my arms, elbows, wrists, knuckles, tendons

my nails vibrate with the starry force pushing against them

begs for release

paper does not satisfy, crayons break under the torrents, lead cores turn to dust

key caps crack and water spills, unbelievable hills

i look at the sky and see the beauty within knowing, beauty already made and beauty being created

hands, feet, breats, pants, vests, coats, hair, nose and cheeks

happy teeth all singing a song of wonder

an amazing night of connections and words

communications and silence

ideal

the bubbling of boiling water and the hum of the fan of the microwave are too much and push me over

the edge—-

as thoughts of my parents reactions are loud in my head my bones feel nervous and a voice

in my head is starting to moan, but it’s getting

louder and louder to a

scream but not yet a shriek for the shrieking

is coming from the tea pot and the unbearable blare of the microwave as I

walk in circles in the kitchen, my elbows are used as blinders and my hands as ear muffs and then

ding

my hands remove from themselves from my

ears

and

they

remove the

fucking teapot

from the

fucking burner to

a cold one and the

sound starts to diminish to a

slight whistle that makes me want to

break a fucking plate against my own head and dig the glass

into my

ears

but it stops

as it cools down i grab a cup

and my favorite black tea bags and

mentally prepare to bring everything through the white

to the less damaging white

of my room

has splashes of myself on every wall to create my own blanket

I am surrounded by myself everywhere from my favorite poster

(of a giant robot, boosh)

to the dark grey drapes to the cardboard and art on one

to the dim light strings and colored pallet art piece

to the giant pillow that sits propped on a chair and my closets filled

with my favorite and only clothing and a large amount of sweaters to look at

and my food and tea is my bedroom

and I instantly relax, seeing my designs, my veins, in this not quiet room

of visual design and loud music

but it is a peaceful heaven of me

disorganized chaos but it creates me

and i am me

and the hats and sweaters are me

and i am me

and this food is me

and my computer is me

and that unstarted homework is me

and that bed is me

and this tea is okay

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