Sustained Criticism

Mother and Father spent the weekend in Rome, my brother is in Estonia so I've watched the dog. And as 'thank you', I got cosmetics. Yummm, Guerlain. Their kabuki brush, a bronzer (getting my feet wet with this, finally, I've yet to brave bronzers) and the new kohl. I love the decadence of luxury cosmetics, it's an indulgence. Every morning, applying a creme or a foundation, it's a petit indulgence. Goodness knows, I live and breathe for those small moments. A good wine, a dish that melts on the tongue or causes a moan as it explodes in taste.

The internet is taking an interesting turn. Amazon's classification system is simply known as #amazonfail, the 'tag' (technically hashtag) used on twitter. We call an event by the twitter tag we use for it. Google it, papers are using it as headlines. The internet dictating the media. Amazonfail amazes me. It was a very bad idea, but the mass of publicity it has received is incredible. It reflects the political correct policy of the internet. A subject I am far too tired to get into.


I almost included an -r after 'idea' earlier, a sign you've been delving too deeply into your phonetics book. (Linking and intrusive r.) Or that your spelling is truly stupendous.

Oh, fuck. I've seen the previews of Guerlain's summer collection. It is stunning. That is all.

And I think I need the Patrizia Pepe pumps. Fuck.

I got MAC's Lavender Whip (you know you've been obsessing over references too long when you instinctively stop and ask "should I italicise Lavender Whip?") lipstick today images here. The collection grows with my obsession, and with the new vanity I have somewhere to store it all.

The Introduction to Philosopy/Beauvoir essay is a blank page, going nowhere. The bibliography is blank as well, which might very well come to bite me in the ass when it's graded. I need to write, and go find some bullshit books to skim through. The problem is that I would much rather write about feminism in general, not just Beauvoir. And what source material I have is so scarce.

Being near-sighted might just be ok, after all: I found a beautiful pair of Chanel frames. The arms have embedded pearls! I just have to work up the courage to check it. Apropos, I was very sensible and bought a pair of Hunter wellies, rather than go amok in the new candy-coloured spring/summer shoes Shoe Lounge had on display. But I think I might need a new pair of summery flats. Right? And perhaps the gorgeous, blue suede Patrizia Pepe pumps.

Disgrace was a disappointment. I realised that so much of what disgusts, and enthralls me, is Lurie's thoughts. Coetzee leaves us with an understated sense of his themes, we feel we know nothing. Steve Jacobs, director, his screenplay-writing wife (Oh, god, I'm reducing a woman to a wife, again) made to much of the physical side of things. And they forgot the madness of his opera - the ridicule of him playing a child's instrument for the clubfooted dog. It must be tremendously difficult work, transfering a book to film. Disgrace in particular, because it is so very character driven. And so much of an interior monologue. Bah, I prefer the book.
Malkovich and Heines were divine. As was Petrus. I'll re-view it on DVD when I get it, and perhaps I'll enjoy it more. Certain scenes were even more powerful on-screen.

But the heavy fog from last night has fallen, and continues to fall. Everything is sheethed in white, and golden class shards glitter outside our windows. These are the times I love winter, and having to walk doggie. And then I have to mend my dress (the skirt' sown up, to create a dishevelled, sculpted effect), and find the buttons for my coat. Figure out what I'm going to do with the hair, re-growth is such a curse. I love, love, love my current colour - but I need to schedule a new appointment with my hair-dresser when I go to dye it next time. Once every six weeks. I can't take these roots. Pin-curls or a braided chignon-y mess? And make-up. I want it heavy, and I want to use my glitter eyeliner. Why didn't I buy false lashes?

Chanel's Holiday Collection has a loose, gold powder. And a lush chocolate brown nail varnish. And a quad: again, golden chocolate and beige. Need I say more? The quad would balance the shimmery gold in my brown Guerlain palette.


Yes, I confess, I love Chanel. I am still in undying love with their Spring Collection, Aurora Blues. And I can't wait for Guerlain's holiday collection.

Makeup and Beauty Blog has a good rundown of the collection.

Silks make me happy, almost bouncy. I bought two Guess dresses in NY this Easter, both a bit over the knee. One white, with blue applique flowers at the bottom. The other is in silk, blue with some greens thrown in, and an irregular white pattern. There was a sale at coast, and I found a teal halterneck in silk. More silks <3 And Father came home bearing gifts late last night. So, I now have Chanels eyeshadow quad in Nymphéa. I love the colours, particularly the green and red - they're not quite solid, with a golden undertone. And he picked up Guerlain's new Météorites Poudres de Perles (should that not be "des", perles is after all plural, no?). It's heavenly. The Guerlain obsession must go on.

Anton just made a racket, because he needed to go out. He's learning so fast. He knows his name, he sits, he comes when we call. And I'm in the middle of teaching him how to search, and lie down. I do, however, still look like I indulge in SI occasionally – he loves biting arms, hands and feet.

I wrote this at the cottage, procrastinating as always, and thought I might as well post it. It is rather long, so I will cut it away and rant on about make-up and shoes underneath.

( New York, New York )

I was fascinated by Dior's Flower Blossom Limited Edition Compact at the airport, and ended up buying it. It is a sheer pink, with a print of ladybirds, flowers and a gemstone in the middle. And, with this image to advertise their spring look, how could I not fall pray to its lure? And I think I have announced already that I needed Chanel's new quint in shades of blue? Well, I bought it, and it is wonderful. Their ad convinced me blue eyeshadow will not make me look ill, or beaten-up. So, I have their "Les 4 Ombres Quadra Eye Shadow in Bleu Cèlestes" (the names are a mouthful) and am considering investing in a new nail varnish. I have a light, very pretty pink that I use to death, but I wonder whether I should get a dark blue (as seen in Chanel's spring look), or a deep bronze of some sort? Or perhaps a light green? Maybe I should indulge myself and try a blue lip gloss as well?

And, as I look out from my summery reverie, what is going on outside? Snow, endless heaps of snow. Whatever happened to my spring? I want to prance around in my new United Nudes! I wore my eamz boots (the leather is perhaps the softest I have encountered yet, really more fit for gloves than shoes) when Father defended his thesis, and comliments literally rained. Even the mad professor of genetics loved them, and whispered so rather creepily to me from behind. (Oh, fine, I give in, I am an attention whore when it comes to shoes. My United Nudes are just so buggerdly sexy. And that they are not available in Norway helps.) I need to wear my new UN's soon (and am stealing an image from shoewawa).

After some two and a half hours at my hair-dresser's (with her darling papillon asleep in my lap), my bob is now an a-lined version, which will eventually grow "steeper" in front. With foiled high- and lowlights (warm, very dark blonde) the colour is now not as undecidable and it generally just looks healthier. Surprise, surprise, I love it.

Since I have already unabashedly declared my vanity, I might as well continue ranting about my favourite products. Kristine and I were stuck with birthday-christmas gifts last year, and decided we would be very boring and buy each other Guerlain's L'Or Make-up Base. I bathe my skin in 24 karats of gold every morning, and I feel so delectably decadent. I love decadence, and would not be without my L'Or. Nor my Parure foundation. Bought as a birthday present to myself (cough, I, er, needed a new foundation?), I would not be caught dead without it anywhere. And the pretty, pretty compact. Yes, I admit it, I cannot help myself for pretty casing. Oh, and Shiseido's Pureness line. It saves my otherwise ugly blemish-prone skin. Pale does not look good with red spots.

Though certain people appraently think I would benefit from enlarging them, I have rather big, unpracitcal lips. They dry out easily and I have to work to make them look decent. Imagine my joy when I find lip glosses and -sticks that moisturise. Shiseido's lipstick in real red is divine: colour and moisture. Estée Lauder, as well, it feels like butter melting rather than lipstick applied. Guerlain's terracotta lip glosses. And, lastly, my newest favourite, Dior's Crème de Gloss. I cannot help smacking my lips to feel the texture of it. How could I forget my Alessandro hand-creams?

"My pleasures are the most intense known to man: writing and butterfly hunting," said Nabokov. I ammend it to things beautiful, in general, and agree.

I have to finish Jane Eyre by the 28th. Haha! I think I might, finally, be grasping iambic pentameter.

I look, almost desperately, forward to when I am old enough to throw dignified Christmas parties. I want to throw parties that are the very stuff of legend. With torches outside, liquer trickling, gigantic wine-glasses, lavish amounts of food, fruit and cheeses. From the morning on I shall prance around in a horrifying apron, cooking and singing, badly, along to the Christmas music I play, too loudly, in the living-room. Like Clarissa, I shall buy the flowers myself - white lillies perhaps, my current favourite. There would be a long table either in the kitchen or dining-room (depending on the housing), decorated with candles, flowers and perhaps some greenery - Ivy is very pretty for this kind of thing.

An hour or so before the guests arrive, I would rid myself of my apron and slippers, shower and put on a pretty dress, my Christmas Louboutins with bows, do my hair and make-up and await the guests. Mulled wine (gløgg, in Norwegian) would of course be served upon arrival, with champagne for those that prefer it. I want my Christmas parties to be tradition, much like the ones I occasionally attend now is. Parties thrown on roughly the same date every year, with more or less the same attendants, who would not miss it for the world.

Sadly, I cannot really do this sort of thing while I am still living with my parents.

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Also, I want this outfit: skinny jeans, white (a bit starched) shirt - perhaps a man's shirt, the ones for us women are hopless, mostly -, boots, perhaps a pair of bracers, the 3/4-length leather gloves, red lips and a very strict, straight bob. I want to be androgynous.

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I want to decorate my Christmas presents with real bows this year, and ribbon. Should I? Most of the family will most likely think me mad, but it would be nice. Oh, and I found a nice gift-idea for dad: a book about exclusive wines. The only catch is that he might be too well-versed on the subject to enjoy just any book.

I got the heavier moisturiser I needed, and couldn't help myself when I found this lipstick I just couldn't help myself. Justified by my needing something new when my favourite lip-gloss empties. This lipstick feels just like a gloss, and is wonderful on. And now I really must get hold of myself.

And, I have an idea for a story of sorts. I love Christmas, and I can't wait till I can start buying gifts for people.

I'm approaching flabbergasted, again. It seems elbow-length gloves are in. Feminine, sophisticated, dark colours, gray, high heels, pale skin, red lips, dark eyes are all in. Lace-up boots are in, and slim, beautiful coats. What on earth is going on? Did I, perhaps, fail to mention that the bob is conquering Norway? (Some 4 centimetres now, and I am part of the movement at last.)

My plan of finding some beautiful leather belts to cinch my waist with are now completely out of the question, I will look like I am trying to be fashionable. I will, however, I still think, wrap myself up in over-sized knitwear over jeans and heels. And I will under no circumstances lay off my coats. Particularly not the one with the three quarter length arms.

On the other hand, what I like turning high fashion is always positive in the sense that I can get the garments I want and that suit me. (How I want a Burberry coat. I need a well-payed job.) And I think I might have to clean my room up a bit later, and do something about the chaos my make-up has fallen into. Whatever is the point of having expensive make-up in pretty packages if not displaying it?