I didn't pull an overnighter, at a certain point, I simply started falling asleep so I dragged my exhausted self to bed, set the alarm clock to six, got up at seven and now I'm getting sleep-deprived, still quite some work to go, and the ever-annoying mother behind my back asks every two hours whether I have already finished.
Well, when I'm finished, I'll fall asleep, thankyouverymuch, and you will notice that.
I'm left to wonder why the hell I bother with this Ph. D. thingy at all. I wanted to go for it because every other idiot has a degree (every first idiot has two) due to pay-and-graduate institution in almost every village while a Ph. D. has maintained a certain level of coolness. I got to a point when I'm strongly doubting it. To be frank, I've been doubting the general purpose of life for quite a few years and the provisional conclusion is that there's no purpose and no reason but if one is cynical enough, it is fun to watch. Sort of, because I don't feel any good about endless writing of something nobody will ever bother to read because it's going to rot away in a shelf, under a layer of dust.
Sigh. Apparently I need more coffee and I'd better go back to work. I might start puking of sheer fatigue and I want to have something done before that.
Monday, 20 June 2011
If you wondered what I may be up to.
I'm sitting in my den, covered in cat hair, the den, me less so, I change my clothes on occasions while I don't bother cleaning. There're papers spread all over, books piled around my table, I'm drinking unreasonable amounts of coffee and there's an overnighter ahead. I'm about to finish my doctoral thesis and when I need to clear my head, I spin. It's even more mindless than knitting and it doesn't require such a bulk of stuff to handle.
For those curious about the fibres, from left to right:
Wensleydale tops on the spindle
Corriedale in fawn
Shetland in brown
Gotland is the tiny bit of grey, I just wanted to try how the fibre feels (damn good)
Some-or-another stuff I got from a Norwegian Raveller. I have a tag somewhere
Blend of teal mohair and Knitpicks'merino and silk blend
I still need to write something and to put it into some sort of a presentable shape but I've already made plans for the Wensleydale, it will become a two-ply for a lace shawl.
I suspect that the existence of toilet roll cores proves the existence of God, because nothing is so useful for spinners, while being readily available (mostly) for free.
Back to work.
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
The other day, I've wondered about Shiseido's perfume naming strategy. It appears to me that someone picked a word they liked, possibly tweaked it around a bit and here we go, let's stick it onto the bottle, nobody would care anyway. Because... Sourire? To smile? Why not, say, Pour sourir or Une souris?
Same thing with Dignita. It suspiciously reminds me of the good old Latin-derived dignity but none of the languages I'm familiar with uses it in this form. I may be wrong and it means something like Tender Flowers in an extinct dialect of Inner Mongolia.
I however suppose that someone in the marketing department just liked the word. I could imagine the smell of dignity, something between moth balls, old leather, expensive woods and incense. Or some such. The brownish jus and brown and white packaging would also hint something more substantial but Dignita is anything else but moth balls, old leather and the general air of old mansion that could use some redecorating and thorough cleaning.
I did my best to find the notes listed somewhere but I've failed. My smell detection device, which is not the bestest, says that there's a gentle whiff of PVC at the beginning but that doesn't surprise me, many fragrances give out a very chemical odour before the alcohol evaporates. Then, Dignita becomes a really nice floral - there's a whiff of violets, not the alph amethyl ionone sort from violet pastilles (oh, yum) but a greener variety, and then the fragrance evolves into a lovely bouquet of roses, although the first identifiable smell is that of a soap named Green Apple, which we used when I was a child - maybe I should check some bad drugstore which has the less fashionable stuff and I'll find it somewhere. Or it may be some other tart fruit - wild cranberries or white currants; one way or another, it (a) makes me drool (b) reminds me of Dior's Chris 47. Anyhow, tart fruits and armful of roses. Those of the soapy variety, then the lemony Gloria Dei and maybe a whiff of the most extraordinary Mainzer Fastnacht, which was elaborated in another Shiseido's fragrance, Blue Rose (which will be dealt with shortly), and some cut grass.
After the initial multifaceted impression, Dignita remains rather linear. Fruits and roses wear down a bit, revealing a soft resiny and powdery base - elemi and iris, I would say, along a well crafted base of general leafy greenery. And a bucketful of lovely musk, that bright, cheery, clean and soothing type, which is the reason why Dignita lasts rather long but after an hour it quietens to a slightly powdery skin scent that still keeps a bit of tartness.
I have no clue whether Dignita is still produced. Uncle Google found several Russian online retailers that sell it, I scored my bottle in France.
A point about the picture above: The beautiful Old English rose of unknown cultivar just fits to the fragrance. Of slightly indefinable colour between apricot and yellow which fades as the blossoms wilt, it smells faintly of, well, roses of the sweeter variety, with a touch of something incense-y. And it matches colour of the jus. Coouldn't resist the kitsch. I however resisted cutting my last iris despite how it would fit in.
To make the blog more interactive, I'm asking a question, dear readers. What Shiseido fragrance would you want to read about next? Let me know in the comments.