So, inside this perfect human specimen that paps worship and other musicians lose their concentration over, is a type A, competitive, finicky person who studies Paul Simon’s percussive rhythms and reads Herman Hesse. He has cultivated a rare air of rock star cool, but he’s not like any other rock star. Inside his head are a thousand Chinese boxes where everything learned is tucked away just so.
• Buys presents in the exact size and color. If he wants a child’s Kenzo sweater in 4T ecru and it’s available in 4T eggshell? Get that eggshell shit out of his face. When the ecru arrives tomorrow? Please have it wrapped in the candy-stripe tissue paper and the gold foil box. Harry will be there at 3:00 PM (actually 3:47:12 on the Rolex Submariner) to pick it up. Thank you.
• Walks around his house in circles trying to think of the perfect word for his lyrics, like Gustave “The Bear” Flaubert with his one-sentence-per-day Madame Bovary-esque writing. Is it too much to ask for something comme ci, comme ça? Something wunderbar. Something excellent. Something magnifico. Something…great. Is it too much to ask for something great, Lou! I got it! –(Absent-mindedly, because it’s been two hours): That’s beautiful, Harry.
• Numbers the curls on his head so that they fall at exact angles for maximum coolness and sex appeal, no matter the length, regardless of haberdashery. Today’s forecast, wind from the northeast at 5 mph, with a relative humidity of 28%. Plan is for a blue beanie with curls 57 through 61 peeking from the right, at angles of 47 degrees relative to the face, ruffling at 5.2 mph, or 0.2 mph relative to wind speed if traveling in same direction. You know what that means, don’t you? 2.8 squirts of Tom Ford Black Orchid as a cloud walk through, but only after a base of Kiehl’s Midnight Recovery face cream.
• Counts sheep in esthetically varied colors, shapes, and sizes while going to sleep, never the same sheep twice, never falling asleep until the smallest sheep, a hopelessly long-haired lamb named Eileen, hoists her wee bottom over that pesky fence. Oh, Eileen.
• Pouts because he can’t get his trumpets in “Olivia.”
• Gets mermaid tattoo with pubic hair
• Is super competitive and is best at what he chooses to do. That’s not basketball.
• Rolls up one shirtsleeve higher than the other one by exactly 1.638 inches always.
• Buys jeans one size smaller and 420 oxygen molecules less than Mick Jagger always
• Knows that “matching swallows” does not mean “mirror image swallows” because 1. size difference and 2. eyebrows. Gets these details right.
• Is a cute drunk. Gets this right.
• Leaves exactly one fingernail unpainted on exactly THAT finger
• Cuts the collars of hoodies
• Captions IG photos with the minimum number of words, per hipster esthetic code. E.g. “Strong,” “No such green.”
• Makes laconic social statements through visual irony– see, black & white photo of the Super Bowl 2016 rainbow “Love” stadium.
• Picks perfect soulmate because no one else will do. Must be big spoon.
• Somehow gets soulmate’s tweet professing love to him to reach 2 million retweets on freaking Valentine’s Day.
Listening to the song inspired me. Thank you to my wonderful friends @niallandharrymakemestrong, @melissas173, and @whoopsharrystyles. They make what I write presentable.
Hope you like it. If you do, would you click the like or even, gasp, reblog?
“You’re leaving? I don’t understand! I thought we were happy…” Confusion was giving way to panic.
“For a world traveler you are a naïve little thing Harry. It was a novelty at first but I find that I am less amused by it now.”
“You love me! You tell me all the time. I love you. We’re good together!”
Her derisive laughter answered him. “Oh, there’s that precious naiveté again. Harry, what is said in the throes of passion is hardly ever the truth. That you believe in love at all is just so childish. Dealing with your constant fairy tale view of the world has become so tiresome.”
“What has happened to you? Why are you acting like this?”
“Darling, this is not an act; this is the real me. It’s been exhausting trying to be someone else just for a fuck. To be fair, you are a great fuck, but even that is not enough to compensate for all this loving kindness bullshit. Oh my god, and your insecurities. ‘What if they don’t like me? What if I can’t sell tickets on my own?’ Who the fuck cares? I am just done.”
“I don’t understand. I love you. Please…” desperation making his voice crack.
“Then I’ll use small words for you. I am leaving. It has been fun, but it is time to call it a day.” Moving to pat him on the cheek like a child, she added, “Take care, darling.”
Turning on her heel she strode from the room as Harry stood stunned and unable to move.
“Wait! Please!” He called out, running after her.
He got outside just as her car was pulling away from the curb. He ran a few steps after her but knew that it was futile. Woodenly he went back inside and closed the door behind him. He went to the bedroom and lay on the bed. Grasping the pillow that still bore her scent, he began to sob.
The Femme Fatale Toolkit - My Experience with Black Orchid
I live in a country where the national flower is an orchid. But I’ve never actually seen a black orchid and only recently realized it was an actual breed of flower (and not just a cool name). And they actually look frikkin’ cool in a slightly scary way.
I recently invested in my first bottle of Tom Ford fragrance (Black Orchid of course) and I have to say it’s an odd scent.
For something that contains dark chocolate, vanilla and benzoin, it’s not sweet at all to me. In fact it’s VERY very dry, and very earthy. It smells like freshly-turned soil and dark 100% cocoa powder (go dip your nose in a tin of baking cocoa; it’s musty, bitter and a little bit powdery) more than candy. I can’t quite make up my mind about whether I dare to actually wear it out because this thing is STRONG and lasts for hours and hours, but some things sit right between beautiful and scary, and that’s the thing about Black Orchid that fascinates me. I imagine thus is what a vampire would smell like. Earth, blood and cocoa.
Whether you like Black Orchid or not, I was inspired to find a few easier-to-love (and more economical) beauty companions that share that same aesthetic, for the femme fatales among you.
Too Faced Poison Orchid - the name says it all. This black/purple duochrome is dramatic and gorgeous. If you have never swatched it, you HAVE to.
Givenchy Gloss Interdit 15 Velvet Purple - now a dark black purple lipstick is sorta cliché. Soften it up with some shine and translucence and you have a sexy winner!
Shu Uemura Calligraph:ink Liquid Eye Liner - this new baby is launching only in Feb 2014, and it’s a GLORIOUS brush-tip pen, shaped like Asian calligraphy brushes. (Think of a brush shaped like a felt tip.) You get the intensity of a brush liner, and the ease and precision of a felt tip.
Make Up For Ever Aqua Black - this super versatile black cream is a dual-function cream shadow and liner. It’s just black, black, black, and you can smudge it out, or wear it dense. Super versatile, AND long wearing like all the other Aqua products once it sets.
Chanel Le Vernis 583 Taboo - a galaxy in a bottle; you get streaks of red, purple, indigo… you name it.