I am taking the baton from TAN and covering for Jessica Coen this week while she whatever, mind your own business. I don't know anything about New York City, media, or celebrities. I'm also functionally retarded and heterosexual. I'M GOING TO BURN THIS BLOG TO THE GROUND.
Speaking of burning things to the ground, this Sunday's New York Times included the debut of Chandler Burr's new column of hard-hitting perfume criticism.
Yes, I am an asshole. And yes, I am much more inclined towards prejudging everything sight unseen because it's easier than taking the time to gauge its true merit. But I was feeling very generous this weekend. I was maybe still a little drunk from the night before and I was like "Oh, yes, okay, perfume criticism. Maybe it's time to have an open mind about something. Maybe it is time to grow up."
And so I began reading.
Darkness, when it is crystalline and somewhat luminous, may be the most difficult quality to capture in a perfume.
OH. HELL. NO.
Back to hating shit just because.