Manolo for the Big Girl

It’s the final Tuesday of the year, time to see what Miss Plumcake is…

Reading: A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. A re-read for me, since it first came out in 2005. You’d think a novel about a quartet of people trying to commit suicide on New Year’s Eve wouldn’t be very sweet or touching (or funny) but it is, with a good slathering of misanthropic mustard to keep it darkly funny. You can pick it up pretty much for the price of postage at Amazon. Just click the link.

Watching: It Happened One Night starring Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert, directed by Frank Capra. As I mentioned earlier, I don’t love It’s a Wonderful Life, preferring instead this, the ne plus ultra of all screwball comedies. As a fashion side-note, you’re probably already aware that Clark Gable did irreparable damage to the undershirt industry when he unbuttoned in this film and revealed nothing more than a hairy chest under his dress shirt.
Hearing: Handel’s Messiah. I sing a lot of Handel, rare is the week I don’t have two Handel arias in the works and another one on deck. You’d think I’d get bored of GFH’s greatest hit.  I don’t. Yes, I still prefer it at Easter, but Christmas is no time to be pedantic. The Rutter/Royal Phil is my favorite widely-available recording.

Smelling: Filles en Aiguilles by Christopher Sheldrake for Serge Lutens. I am an old and jaded frag hag. I roll my delicate nostrils at 99% of mall fragrances. I don’t jump at the newest niche release and I’ve almost given up hope on Jean-Claude Ellena ever releasing anything truly brilliant again –he’s the house nose for Hermes now, which means he’s got marketablity to think about– I am, according to Angela’s brilliant list at Now Smell This, a stage four perfumista. Which is why getting a fragrance that really excites me is a rare experience. Filles en Aiguilles (literally “Girls on Needles” though it’s a play on words, since the French slang for stilettos is talons aiguilles) excites me. A lot. A LOT a lot. Aiguilles opens as a pine bomb like I’ve never experienced, with just a bit of camphor,then it develops into something more resiny. It evolves into a high mass on Christmas eve, where the incense and the wreaths and the smell of old polished wood melt together into something transcendent and just slightly wild around the edges. As it dries down you’re left with a bit of warm pine and buttery skin incense. Equally good for men and women, it’s only available in the states at Barney’s.

Loving: Jon Richardson’s BBC 6 podcast. Generally speaking, comedians and humorists are –as a species– little more than seething balls of neediness, sexual deviance and empty takeout containers. It’s true. I mean, I’m not. It’s a well-documented fact that cartoon bluebirds dress me every day and when I smile you can literally hear the silvery ting! of sunbeams and happiness. But the rest of them? Useless, impotent and in need of a bath. Which is why it’s rare for me to bestow my highest honor –the Order of The Good Egg– to comedian Jon Richardson. I admire his work professionally but more importantly, he is responsible for propagating good deeds hither and yon via his Deed-ication feature. Basically he invites his listeners to write in with their good deeds for a chance to have the show dedicated to them, which is brilliant. Co-presenter/sidekick Matt Forde receives entrance into the Order of The Speckled Puppy for being adorable, endearing and definitely not allowed on the couch.

Hating: Bad Chocolate. I don’t know much, but I do know this: life is too short for small jewelry, faked orgasms and bad chocolate. I’ve managed to eradicate the first two, now if ONLY I could get people to stop giving me the third.

Wanting: Laphroaig Whisky. Islay malts aren’t to everyone’s taste, but they’re certainly to mine. Laphroaig, easily the most famous and accessible is It’s a big peaty smoke bomb of deliciousness. In my head, this is what Mister Badger’s sweater smells like. Drink it neat, with a drop of spring water or for an interesting take on a martini, mixed 1:4 with Hendrick’s gin.

Buying: Kiva Gift Certificates. By now everyone knows about Kiva, the microlending project that’s revolutionized charitable giving. I’ve been into microlending for years, ever since I met a group of women from southern Malawi. If you’re new to microlending, check it out.

So I got some sleep and there’s no sign I’ve actually ordered a horse, which is more than a small relief.  I thought I’d give the mosaic theme a break today and treat you to a few bits o’ choreographed brill from this week’s list courtesy of Judy Garland and Rufus Wainwright.

Reading: Wise Blood by Flannery O’Conn0r. There’s no Gothic like Southern Gothic and there’s no guilt like Catholic Guilt. Besides, “no man with a good car needs to be justified”.

Watching: Summer Stock — my favorite Let’s Put on a Show musical, courtesy of Judy Garland and Gene Kelly

Hearing: Rufus Does Judy at Carnegie Hall -in a continuing theme of Saint Judy.  He lived the dream. Bastard.

Smelling: Bvlgari Black. A weird fragrance I usually save for summer, but a fine example showing not all brilliant perfumes are expensive.  You can pick up Black for under 30 bucks online or at Ross/TJ Maxx etc. The notes in Black include black rubber and tar. Before you turn up your nose, read this review from Bois de Jasmin and then go out and try it. Originally a men’s fragrance it’s being marketed to women, too which makes me think it’s gearing up for a relaunch and corresponding price hike. If you like it, get some now.

Loving: Cows N’ Things Everyone wants to help those adorable little poor children and that’s great and all, but what about the old folks? I won’t teeter up on my soap box about the way Western culture treats its elderly, because I could go on for.ev.er about it and if you want to be tediously lectured there are plenty of other places to go for that. BUT Cows n’ Things is a great charity.  You can buy chicks, a beehive, a donkey ambulance OR cataract surgery (for about 20 USD!!!) for an eldery person in developing nations throughout the world.

Hating: The concept of “being good” or “being bad” at the holidays, especially when it comes to food. It’s ridiculous to see grown damn woman smile like their mischievous toddlers whispering loudly they’re “being bad” and having another sausage ball. Listen, if you need to justify to a room of people what you’re eating AND put a moral judgment on it, your problems are a lot deeper than Bisquick-based party snacks.

Wanting: chocolate-dipped spiced apricots. Partially submerge plump dried apricots in dark chocolate and let set. Drizzle pre-dipped bits with bitter sweet or white chocolate and dust with pumpkin pie spice/warm aromatic spice of your choice. Let chill. Dead easy, makes a million and are super delicious.

Buying: Ovation Finalist Pro Field Boots with extra-wide calves (check the size chart, you may have to go with men’s extra-wides)

Yesterday marked the ten year anniversary of my move to Texas so I thought I’d celebrate by doing an All-Texan revue. It’s Tuesday so let’s fine out what Miss Plumcake is…

Reading: O. Henry’s Short Stories.  William Sydney Porter was a Carolina boy by birth, but did a the best part of his writing and embezzling here in Austin, Texas.  My grandmother never read to me (unless by “read” you mean “accidentally putting her cigarette out on my arm, thereby fusing my horrible nylon sweater to the sweet delicate flesh of my forearm”) but she had a soft spot for The Ransom of Red Chief (I think she liked the torture scenes), which remains my favorite O. Henry short story.

Hearing: Lyle Lovett’s Natural Forces. I’ve had a one-sided love affair with Lyle Lovett and his Large Band for years, and it all started with this song.  He consistently puts on the best live shows I’ve seen. He’s funny, droll and is completely at home with his, uh, unusual looks. Last night’s concert went into my top five shows of all time. Even if you think you won’t like him, give Lyle a little Youtube action and let him change your mind.

Watching:Giant.  James Dean’s third and final film –it was released shortly after his death at 24– it is the definitive Texas Epic and worth a watch if only to see James Dean’s method acting play against Liz Taylor’s Tollywood traditional.

Smelling: Tauer Lonestar Memories. Swiss perfumer Andy Tauer isn’t Texan, but we might make him an honorary one after this. Lonestar Memories is a BIG scent –I have to put a teensy drop behind my knees the night before I want to wear it– but its bone-dry combination of wood smoke, brush fire and open skies make it a smart, untamed scent for men or women.

Loving: The Lance Armstrong Foundation I can’t say I just love Lance Armstrong as a person and I think those yellow rubber bands are dopey, but the LAF does great work, especially with providing support for young men like my brother who are testicular cancer survivors. He (Lance not my brother) made a surprise visit on stage last night with Lyle Lovett. To his credit he didn’t try to sing.

Hating: Well, I mean, really.

Wanting: Big obnoxious custom cowboy boots. Texans never mind a bit of vulgarity it’s “a nice splash of paprika” as Diana Vreeland would say. I own one pair of Western boots and they’re the most unassuming things on the planet, just regulation-issued brown ropers with a low heel and almond toe. They’re dead useful without being showy but secretly I yearn for a pair of enormously over-the-top boots inlaid with all sorts of craziness. You can drop a good $4000 on custom boots, and they’re truly works of art, but I’d settle for these at a mere $1800.

Buying: Bluebonnet seeds. In the spring, a few weeks after the droves of South by Southwest revelers vacate my fair city, the wildflowers bloom. In the Texas Hill Country, the roadways are just carpeted with bluebonnets. Millions and millions of the Texas state flower pop up along any place left untended, and while it is illegal to pick them, it IS every Texas woman’s birthright to trample as many as she sees fit just so she can sit daintily in a field and get her picture taken surrounded by a could of blue blossoms.

So what’s shaking in YOUR state today?

So I’m finally getting my legs back under me from my vacation and once again it’s time to find out what Miss Plumcake is…

Reading: The Cornish Trilogy by Robertson Davies.  Fun read for academics, Anglicans and other people who are only tedious on the outside.

Watching: Liberty Heights Barry Levinson. Wonderful autumnal film about a group of young Jewish boys coming of age in early 60’s Baltimore.

Hearing: Pump Up the Volume Soundtrack.  Still awesome after all these years. The Pixies, Henry Rollins, Cowboy Junkies, Bad Brains…
Smelling: L’Eau D’Hiver by Jean-Claude Ellena for Frédéric Malle. My favorite winter scent, possibly my favorite scent of all time. The link is for reference only since no one else is allowed to buy it.

Loving: Fake AP Stylebook. It’s funny ’cause it’s true.

Hating: Being a mammal. If there’s an inch of hair on my body that hasn’t been plucked, waxed, cut, bleached, dyed blue (I have blue streaks in my hair) extended, laser-ed or otherwise attended to then by gum I can’t reach it or afford the lady who can.
Wanting: Red trench from Anna Scholz. That’s a 20 year coat, at least.
Buying: Lynx coat from my friend’s furrier in Greece. Because I’ve had a REALLY hard year and I deserve a coat made out of kittens. Besides, people don’t throw paint on you if you live in a state okay with concealed weapons

It’s Tuesday, time to see what Miss Plumcake is:

Reading: The Essential Rumi, my favorite volume of collected works from my favorite poet. If you’re unfamiliar with the work of this 13th century Sufi mystic, prepare to have your minds blown. His sometimes wry, always heartfelt offerings on love, God, the human and divine experience (and how to have sex with a donkey using a gourd, but I don’t really think that’s one of his greatest hits) should be required reading, especially for anyone whose only exposure to Islam has been on the nightly news.

Watching: To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s a tradition at Château Gâteau to watch this classic the night before the first day of school. It’s the only time of the year I eat popcorn. For my money, the most powerful sentences in film is uttered as Atticus, defeated, leaves the court room. “Stand up, Scout. Your father is passing.”

Hearing: Songs of Leonard Cohen. There’s always room for Leonard. Aside from putting on what is hands down the best concert I’ve ever seen last April (with SEVEN encores of three songs each) Leonard Cohen is the closest thing we have to a living psalmist, even if most people know the covers –Jeff Buckley– better than the man behind (and often underneath) them. Don’t read his erotica though. Cuh-reepy.

Smelling: Jasmin et Cigarette is pure nostalgia for me since that’s what I was wearing when I first spent the weekend with Andre in New York. He said his favorite flower was jasmine –mine is not– and I knew as a Frenchman he’d appreciate the little perverse twist. This is a bad girl fragrance all the way and the only juice from Etat Libre d’Orange I even halfway like.

Loving: We Get to Carry Each Other: The Gospel According to U2 by Greg Garrett. Greg is a dear friend and occasional colleague so I hesitated to read anything he’d written for fear of not liking it and then having to say something nice about the binding or the typeface. I shouldn’t have worried. Anyone who’s been through the long dark tea-time of the soul, as Douglas Adams would say, should be able to relate to Greg’s writings. I particularly liked his novel Shame, but this new one strikes my fancy this week because Greg knew U2 back in the early 80’s and writes about how you can be a person of faith (any faith) and integrity and still be a positive, contemporary part of secular culture.

Hating: Cramps. To be fair I couldn’t find a picture of actual cramps, so I thought I’d put one of my favorite albums by The Cramps up in its stead. I think I’ll listen to Bad Music for Bad People tonight as I go to the gun range and drink a lot of soda, the two things that make me feel better on Days Like These.

Wanting: Tŷ Nant water, in the blue bottle. I got hooked on this stuff when an accidental delivery to my local grocers had it on sale for less than a dollar a bottle. I bought out the store’s entire stock and when my supplier ran out, I ended up going retail and dropping upwards of $15 a day on the Welsh water. There’s a place in town that sells this gorgeous stuff, but for $5 per bottle it’s a special treat. Yes I know it’s ridiculous to feel this strongly about water, but I do. The day I beat my first felony I’m going to take a bath in this stuff. I drink Harrogate Spa Water now, which is almost (well, almost almost) as good and only a buck a pop.

Buying: McVitie’s Digestive Biscuits. If my dog manages to get these…well, there will be a cookie-loving black Shar Pei available to a good home in the very near future.

What’s crumbling your cookie this week?

It’s Tuesday and it’s time to find out

Reading: A Devil to Play: One Man’s Year-Long Quest to Master the Orchestra’s Most Difficult Instrument

Watching: Millions

Listening: A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King’s College Choir

Smelling: Hermès Equipage

Loving: Warm Heart International

Hating: Grease

Wanting: Mr Kipling’s (exceedingly good) Cherry Bakewells

Buying: Caudalie Vinoperfect Radience Set (also exceedingly good)

what’s on your cultural plate this week?

If good artists borrow and great artists steal, I’m about to get all Caravaggio up in this joint.

In homage to our glorious leader, it is Tuesday time to see what Miss Plumcake is:

Reading:

(click images for links)

Watching:

Hearing:

Smelling:

Loving:

Hating:

Wanting:

Buying: