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unhonestlymirror · 7 months

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Rating food of the countries I've been to, from West to East:

Disclaimer: it's veeery subjective

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Spain🇪🇸 : 7/10. It's okay. I expected their fish and seafood to be better, tho. A LOT of relatively cheap fresh juices, 10/10 for health. They also make surprisingly amazing pasta and surprisingly average paella.

France🇫🇷: 9/10. Never visited cafes or restaurants there, but Carrefour has an incredible variety of good meat. I love their pineapple pie, too. There are a lot of products for vegetarians, Muslims, and, in general, different people who have different eating styles. There's a lot to see. And omg, their bazaar days are something worth attending: I still regret that I never tried clams with white wine.

UK🇬🇧 : 6/10. Not impressed. Something tells me that they deliberately make fish-n-chips that terrible. But I absolutely loved the strawberries under hot chocolate, which was sold by two cheerful Polish girls near Madam Tussaud museum.

Switzerland 🇨🇭: 6/10. Migros has nice buns with spinach and those Japanese "sandwiches", overall, your whole salary is gonna be spent on food. (Lithuania core lol😭) McDonald's there SUCKS.

Norway🇳🇴: 4/10. I expected a lot for some reason. Prices gonna cause you a heart attack, the quality is gonna give you a second heart attack. Also!!! THERE WAS NO FISH IN THE SHOPS EXCEPT THE CANNED!!! I was deeply injured. Norwegian salmon is super popular in Ukraine, how can they not have any normal fish in the big supermarkets...

Germany🇩🇪: 1/10. I may be just unlucky, but every time I visit Germany and pick a random cafe with lots of people(!), it has the worst food I've ever tasted in my life. It's like that scene from Desperate Housewives: "Really? A woman who orders Chinese food for Christmas dinner cooked a pineapple pie?" I understand now why Ukrainian women often marry Germans. My heart bleeds when I see what exactly you eat. I want to cover you with a blanket and cook you a normal soup.

Czech Republic 🇨🇿: 7/10. The soup was nice, ставлю вподобайку👍

Poland🇵🇱 : 8/10. Soup in bread, my beloved. Doughnuts were some kind of overcooked in oil, tho.

Montenegro🇲🇪: 10/10. I love you. I love your salads, your seafood, and I LOVE YOUR LEMON ICECREAM!!!!!

Slovakia🇸🇰: 7/10. I don't really remember what I ate, I am sorry. But I was really impressed with your supermarkets for some reason. Gotta visit it again.

Hungary🇭🇺: 6/10. It was my first time I've ever tried street food, and I liked it. You guys know how to cook meat.

Greece🇬🇷: 7/10. One day, I'll find the guy who can cook Karavidopsiha and beg them to cook it once again. Nice fish!!! I remember your arbutus honey as old women remember their best lovers. But. One time, a man served my family with unpeeled shrimps in batter. :/ What the hell was that? Is that some kind of a national dish I'm not aware of? Minus three points for such bullying.

Cyprus 🇨🇾: 7/10. I shouldn't be obsessed with your carob tree pastille that much.

Lithuania🇱🇹: 10/10. I love you. Although, I'd love to spend less money on food too. I love your Maxima and Rimi and Iki. I love your cafes. I love your bakery, I love your cocktails, I looooooove your soups, and I love your Asian food too. It's very easy to become an alcoholic with such delicious wines and tinctures.

Latvia🇱🇻: 11/10. Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm on my knees. Your cream chanterelle soup and Lidl croissants and marinated onion and šašlyk and fish and dairy products🛐🛐🛐. You guys know how to serve. I've never seen such pretty food designs anywhere. And of course, Lido. It brings me in tears of joy and makes me remember Puzata Hata. No, for real, is there any dish you don't know how to cook?

Finland🇫🇮: 7/10. That's okay. Nice street food.

Belarus ⚪️🔴⚪️: 9/10. Oh my dear Belarus, you're gonna be the best chef in Europe once you're free from russia. I wish I ate more machanka and drank your pine tincture when I had the chance. I love your chicory, it's a bit greyish, but it's much more delicious than an average chicory. Delicious meat in the shops. Other food is soviet-like, which makes me nauseous.

Ukraine 🇺🇦: ♾️/10. Вітчизно моя! Ти як здоров'я, наскільки ти цінна, тільки той знає, хто тебе втратив. I don't know if my favourite shops still work. I loved every single cafe I've been to, yes, even that shitty prorussian Mafia and Eurasia. I loved Puzata Hata. I loved Khlibna Kava, and its amazing cherry cupcakes. I loved Moloko Vid Fermera. I loved little kiosks with fresh Makadamia nuts and huge variety of vegetables and fruits. I loved Flagman and Silpo, Lvivśki croissants, and chocolate shops. I loved my seafood store. I loved giant frappes in Shevchenko Park. I loved my Continent with its old classical French background songs. I love my Japanese food stores. There are so many places I love. I used to find my bazaar so ugly and dirty, but I would give everything to buy the sea buckthorn jam from the cheerful old lady. But it's not gonna happen. My bazaar was shelled by russians to the ground.

Turkey🇹🇷: 9/10. Your Katmer, seafood soup and baked shrimps(?) are something 🛐.

Jordan🇯🇴: 7/10. Nice! You cook paella better than Spain, be proud of yourself. Although, I'd love to not be scared for my life as a woman all the time. Your bazaar seemed very interesting, but unfortunately, I don't speak Arabic. And I am a woman, which also sucks, I guess. I was totally covered in black, except for the face and hair, and people still stared at me like on a zoo exponate. McDonald's kinda sucks too, but not as much as in Switzerland.

Egypt🇪🇬: 7/10. It's okay. I've tasted only hotel food.

Sakartvelo🇬🇪 : 10/10. Our guide forgot about our existence, and we had to find any source of food to not die from hunger, so we went to your local bazaar and asked to fry some cheap fish. It had lots of bones, and I hate fish with bones, but I ate it all, and it tasted amazing.

Saudi Arabia 🇸🇦: 6/10. Most of the week, I just cooked some simple spiceless products like pasta and eggs from the small store. You are far from the level of grocery stores in Turkey. Although, your cold orange juice bottle saved my life from dying in the middle of the desert.

Qazaqstan 🇰🇿: 7/10. I don't really remember your supermarkets, I guess they were okay. But your bazaars are definitely something worth attending. Millions of varieties of honey with millions of tastes and very salty hard cheese Kurt.

#rambling #countries #food

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reynita9 · 11 months

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Cute auntie moment.. sending cute ass Italian pastilles in bday mail for my beloved tiny dancers.

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kangamommynow · 2 years

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One of my favorite things to do is go to the grocery store in other countries. I love exploring. Here's some of the interesting stuff I've found.

Pickeled Onion chips. I am curious.

Dragon Soop. It's fruit flavored, caffeinated, alcoholic. I imagine an alcoholic energy drink? Also, Hooch.

I've had chocolate with potato chips. I've had chocolate covered potato chips. But never chocolate with cheese and onion crisps.

Chris thinks we might need to bring this home.

Finally, Fruit Pastilles. Or, as little Julian called them, "fruit pastips ". My favorite candy.

There are a couple of flavors that are super common here that we don't have in the US. Elderflower drinks, for instance. Black Currant anything. Mincemeat. Prawn flavored chips. Speculos and Nutella flavored treats and ice cream. And the beloved Lemon Fanta. It used to be called Icy Lemon Fanta and we existed on it in France. I don't know why we can't get it at home.

#Barbarians in Ireland

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mybelovedchristine · 10 months

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dear, my beloved girlfriend .

as im writing this, you were here right exactly beside me, sleeping peacefully. so wonderful.

I don't have any courage to open the topic or to tell you that this day might be the last day I would be with you this long. what I mean is, I may not be able to spent my whole day with you anymore, to have a long nap, to talk about shits till midnight nor to have our pastil date.

but i hope everything would still go well with the both of us. school year was about to end. my allowance might cut. furthermore, I may not be able to visit you at your house frequently like I used to.

but don't worry, baby. I'll keep you track in my whereabouts. I'll update you in a very detailed way, I'll tell you how my day went, what was the food I ate, or if I am having an allergy attack.

i can't stop thinking while staring at you right here as you asleep. time flies so fast and i hate it.

right at this moment all I think was i wish this day won't end. you and me having fun spending the infinite time we had. chitchat about other people's lives, kissing you seldomly, and throwing some corny jokes that we'rent fit in my personality.

i would totally miss this, us.

and I have something to tell you also that I can't say personally even tho I'm not yet sure about it.

baby, in weeks, I am about to leave manila. (not yet sure) maybe staying in province for good or nah.

for sure if I said this to you right now I know you would be sad. but don't worry, baby. I have no intention to leave manila nor leave you.

you're so cute, you're with buday. hahhaa! can't stop my laugh while looking at your sour face as i uttered the name of our babies; buday and budoy.

i love teasing you and I'm gonna miss that.

my days again would be dull, alone, and quiet. which I loved but baby, since you ever came. I'd love to spend my days with more laughter, more chaos, more chicas, and more dramas.

look what you've made me. you turn me into a person i never imagined i would.

your piercing was quite good on you. thanks for the lunch! and also thanks for fetching me at peri-peri. you will always be appreciated, in all ways. always.

i love you, and I miss you. mwah!!

love, yang.

[7-03-23, 4:58pm]

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technologyvoid · 1 year

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Himalaya peppermint pastilles my beloved

#probably isn't too good for dehydration but HEY it's food #(don't worry; i WILL get something to drink. i just have to wait 2 more hours till my lunch break-)#void chatter

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lauriel816 · 2 years

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Being rebellious and normalizing eating popsicles when the temperature is -3°

#fruit pastilles lollies my beloved #im suddenly searching for fruit popsicle recipes i have absolutely no idea why im doing that #but they all look good #personal #lauriel blabbering

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babybluebex · 3 years

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good doctor kreizler ch. 2: book of revelations

summary ↠ sequel to good doctor kreizler // the case of the murdered boys continues, and you're suddenly overcome with terrible emotions for seemingly no reason. but laszlo knows why. pairing ↠ laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 3.3k warnings ↠ explicit language, mentions of menstruation, nausea, and pregnancy, descriptions of violence against children (yknow how the alienist works lmao) a/n ↠ enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You sighed heavily and pressed your palm to your diaphragm. Your corset was causing more discomfort than usual, but you could look past it. There were deeds that needed to be done. You stood up from your chair and moved to the telephone on the wall, and you caught the side-long glance that an officer gave you. Perhaps it was some sort of confidence that being with Laszlo gave you, but you found yourself saying, “Can I help you, sir?”

“D’ya need help with that telephone?” the man asked, puffing at a cigarette. The smell of it made you feel ill, especially the way he blew it nearly directly at you. “It can be awfully difficult for a lady.”

You gave him a plantative smile, and you said, “I can manage. Thank you, though.”

“You sure?” he asked. “Because I’d be more than happy to oblige you.”

“Really,” you said, taking up the end of the telephone. “I can do it.”

The man took a step closer, and he placed a hand on your waist. “You think, because you work for the police, you can be a bitch?” he hissed. “If a gentleman offers you help, you take it.”

The door to the room swung open, and you turned to see your lover there, wearing your favorite emerald-green suit and black coat. Laszlo was a gift from the gods, for sure. He made sure you knew that you were worthy of what you were given in the world, and he strived to give you more. Every time he presented you with a new dress or necklace, you always kissed him to show your gratitude, but reminded him that such gifts were not necessary. “You’re the only thing I ask for,” you would remind him. You knew that the thought of it troubled the good doctor, that he was worried that he wasn’t enough, but, every night, you kissed his shoulder and arm and assured him that he was more than what you deserved. You trusted Laszlo with your body, soul, mind, and heart, and he did the same of you.

Which is why you were thankful for the little fibs he would tell every so often to save face. “I would greatly appreciate it if you removed your hand from my wife,” Laszlo said firmly, his accent stronger than usual; his German gravel was intimidating to those who only knew him from stories in the newspaper. “New York’s finest and all…”

The officer took a step back from you, and Laszlo moved closer to you. “What do I owe this visit, sweetheart?” you asked, pressing your hands to his chest. Laszlo bent down and swiped his lips along your cheek, and you felt yourself grow warm at his unusual display of public affection.

“You left a file at home,” Laszlo said. “I remember you talking about transcribing it.”

You cooed softly, and Laszlo reached into his coat and extracted the file folder for you. “You’re so good,” you told him. “What can I do to repay you? I’m sure I’m making you late to the Institute.”

Laszlo tilted his head as he thought, and he put his hand on your waist, right where the officer had put his. Laszlo was hardly a jealous man, but the moments where his mood matched his suit made you giggle. He was a world-renowned alienist, but he was truly just a teenage boy in mind and matter. “Let me take you to dinner tonight,” Laszlo said, and you groaned. “And the opera. Please, my beloved, just one night.”

“Las, I told you, I don’t like when you spend your money on me,” you grumbled. “Just, please. I’m perfectly happy taking dinner at home. In fact, I prefer it more!”

“More than Delmonico’s?” Laszlo asked. “What if I invited John and Sara and the Isaacsons?”

“No, Laszlo,” you giggled, and you pressed your thumb into the little dimple in his chin. “The problem certainly will not be solved by adding more people. Can we just stay home tonight and listen to an opera on the gramophone? We’ve both been working very hard lately, I’d just like a simple night with you.”

“A simple night,” Laszlo said softly, pulling the words around in his mouth. “My beloved, I am not a simple man.”

“Boy, that’s the truth,” you chuckled, and you moved from his grip to return to your desk. “Maybe next week, we can go to the opera. Alright?”

Laszlo chuckled lightly, and he tugged you close and laid a kiss on your forehead. “Whatever you’d like, my beloved,” he told you. “When can I expect you at the Institute?”

You pulled Laszlo’s left arm up to your face and looked at his watch, ticking away at half noon, and you said, “Around three or so. Would you mind having some tea ready for when I get there? I’m feeling plain awful today.”

“What’s wrong?” Laszlo asked, and you smiled at the sudden emergence of Dr. Kreizler. While his degree wasn’t exactly in physical medicine, he always liked to be the first to examine you for maladies if they arose.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed, waving your hand dismissively. “Just a bit of a stomach ache. I assume it’s nearing that time of the month for me, Las, you know how I get.”

“Of course,” Laszlo said softly. “You know, you could have just told me that’s why you didn’t want to eat at Delmonico’s tonight.”

You looked around quickly, finding the small space empty void for you and your lover, and you carefully took the furred lapel of Laszlo’s coat between your fingers and tugged him close, close enough for you to smell the lavender pastile that he liked so much. “Truly, my reason was more than that,” you whispered. “I wanted you to ravage me tonight, for as long as we both can bear.”

You almost missed the way that Laszlo’s breath hitched in his throat, but you were glad you noticed it. “It is getting to be that time, isn’t it?” he said carefully. “Increase in libido is a common side effect of menstruation.”

You hummed softly and pressed your fingers to his cheek. “I love it when you talk like that,” you said. “You’re so wonderfully smart, Las, I wish you wouldn’t be ashamed to show it.”

“I’m not,” Laszlo said. “You just choose to ignore my intelligence.”

“Now, why in the world would I do that?” you laughed. “You ought to be getting to the Institute. I’ll see you shortly.”

Laszlo gave you a warm smile and kissed your cheek, and you felt yourself shiver at his lips. God, you could hardly believe how much you loved him. You felt your stomach flutter, and you heaved a sigh. “I love you,” Laszlo said softly, and he brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll see you soon, my beloved.”

You fixed your jaw and swallowed down the ungodly feeling in your throat. Something was wrong, you could tell. The usual air of the parlor was not there, the cheerful if slightly remorseful lightness. Instead, the parlor was overtaken with a heady sadness that completely outweighed the macabre curiosity.

“Laslzo,” you said quickly, dropping your briefcase by the table, and you joined your lover at the window. He was smoking his pipe, something you had only ever seen him do a handful of times before, and you immediately ran your hand soothingly down his back. “What’s happened?”

“Another body,” Laszlo mumbled. “Another child.”

You bristled. “But-But I thought we had figured it out? The murderer followed Catholic holy days?”

“That was a suitable theory at the time,” Laszlo said. His gaze was fixed to the outside world through the murky glass, and you looked around the room. John was sitting at the long table, absently sketching something, and Sara was studying the chalkboard that was covered in Laszlo’s neat script. “But he’s gone off schedule, and we might as well be back where we started.”

“Not really,” you said softly. “I mean, so he jumped ahead a few days. If the body bears the same marks, if the victim is the same as the others, I don’t see why a change in date--”

“Of course you don’t,” Laszlo scoffed, and he stepped away from you.

You were stunned silent, and you watched Laszlo move back to the table with the heaps of paperwork. “What does that mean?” you asked.

“You’re not looking at the entire picture,” Laszlo said sharply. “You’re only focused on the way he changed the date, not the why. Why did he change his schedule, why is there another body weeks ahead of the next holy day? Now we have to be concerned if it’s even the same murderer. Is it a copycat murderer that hasn’t pinned down the schedule as we have? There are many moving parts to this that you don’t seem to comprehend.”

“Las, I do see that,” you countered. The way he doubted you stung your chest, but that was Laszlo. When he was angry, he lashed out. You had come to accept him, even if the words he said truly hurt. You saw Sara turn to look at you, a hint of pity in her blue eyes, and you sighed. “Look, do we have records of the new victim’s body? Perhaps that will give us insight.”

“Yes,” John said quickly, not even giving Laslzo a chance to answer and cut your feelings even deeper. Why had his admonitions hurt so much more than usual? You were afraid that, if he spoke to you like that again, you would start crying. And then they would be right, everybody would be right: a woman was too delicate to handle crimes like this. “I visited the morgue as soon as I heard. I sketched what I could manage, and took notes of everything else.”

You moved around to join John at the other side of the table, choosing to ignore Laszlo. You could feel his eyes follow you as you bent towards John to look at his sketches, and your eyes followed the charcoal lines of a young boy. Like the others, his eyes were plucked out, his throat slit, and his hand cut off, but a few errant marks on the boy’s stomach made you tilt your head. “What’s this?” you asked, gently tracing the lines with your finger. Soot of the charcoal came off on your fingertip, but you paid little attention to it.

“Our murderer made gashes in the boy’s stomach,” John said. “This one--” he pointed to a particular line, “Was deep enough to view the intestines. Four in total, but they don’t seem to follow a pattern.”

“Everything follows a pattern, John,” Laszlo said quickly. “We just haven’t found it yet.”

“Four…” you mumbled. “And this sketch is accurate to scale?” John nodded, and your eyes studied it for a moment longer. Four of them, two of them a bit shorter than the others. Those two were situated at the bottom of the boy’s belly, right where the V of his hip bones would be, and the one of them was at the top, just under his breastbone. The fourth, the biggest, longest, deepest, was straight down the middle, bisecting the boy’s navel.

Your vision became blurred. Your breath came in gasps, and you felt dizzy. A terrible sickness crawled up your throat, and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to stop the flow of vomit. Vomit. You never vomited, not even when you had viewed past victims’ bodies in person. The smell of corpses wasn’t even enough to make you ill, but your heart quickened when you cast another glance to the sketch.

You fell into a chair besides John, and you gasped, “I think I’m gonna be sick--”

Sara came to clutch your hand in an instant, and John hurried to hide the sketch. “Las,” you mumbled. “Can you get me some water, sweetheart?”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” Laszlo said quickly. Your other hand was filled by his, and you cast a glance upwards at him. Now, instead of the tepid malice that he had had in his eyes, he had complete worry.

“I’ll get you some water,” John said. “Laszlo, watch over her. I’ll be back.”

“What happened?” Sara asked. “You started to sway and turned a ghostly pale. Did you see something?”

“J-Just those gashes,” you mumbled. “They-They looked like scars my mother had.”

“Scars?” Laszlo asked. “What do you mean?”

You sniffled, and took your hands from both grasps to wring in your lap. “I was born via Cesarean section,” you said. “M-My mother had been sick and fragile since before she was pregnant with me, and her doctor advised against natural childbirth. She had a scar right down the middle of her stomach in the same fashion as the body… A-And, when I was still in school, a doctor found a series of tumors in her ovaries. It had spread through the rest of her, but the doctor tried to combat it by removing the original tumors, and… The scars on his waist match the ones my mother had. I-I just-- Why would the murderer give this poor boy a woman’s scars?”

Laszlo bristled at this. You hardly ever mentioned your family, or him his, and he knelt down in front of you. “There’s something more than that,” he said softly. “My beloved, please speak to me. What’s troubling you?”

You chewed your bottom lip, and you gave a gasp as you tried to steady your breathing. “Sara,” you mumbled. “Can you give us a moment?”

Sara squeezed your hand and nodded, and she quickly excused herself. You waited until the door closed fully before sobbing and leaning forward to rest your head against your knees. “I’m sorry, Las,” you mumbled. “I-I just-- I can’t bear the sight of that today. I’ve felt ill all day, and now all of this, it’s far too much for me right now.”

You had nearly forgotten that you had requested tea earlier in the day, and you watched Laszlo rise from his knee and retrieve the tea cup. He quickly took note of your quivering hands, and he lifted the porcelain tea cup to your mouth. You sipped at it, hoping that it might soothe you, and you wiped your tears from your cheeks. “Laszlo, what’s wrong with me?” you sniffled. “I-I’ve never done this before, why now?”

“You already said that you feel ill,” Laszlo said carefully. “Maybe the sight of the body and the state of it was a shock to your system. Has the nausea passed?”

You shook your head quickly. The ugly feeling of it still sat in the very back of your throat, and you reached out for him. Laszlo set the tea cup aside and came to you, and you buried your face in his stomach from where you sat. Your arms circled his waist and you held him tightly, and you keened up into his hand as he began to stroke your hair.

Suddenly, Laszlo began to move with quickness, pulling you to your feet. You hardly had time to ask what he was doing before his fingers began to undo the back of your blouse. “Laszlo!” you cried. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Trust me, my beloved,” Laszlo said quickly. With his one arm tight to his body, he pulled your blouse off of you, then started at your corset. That sick feeling back came, and you reached forward and braced yourself against the table. Your head hung as you tried to control your nausea, and you whimpered, “Laszlo, what is this?”

Your lover gave a growl, one of deep frustration, and he grabbed your corset by the bottom hem and shoved it down your body, past your waist, to expose your breasts and stomach. You couldn’t help but sigh at the release of pressure on your middle, and Laszlo turned you around to see your bare skin. He knelt down in front of you and pressed his forehead against your stomach, and you watched him close his eyes and take a deep breath. You hardly understood what he was doing, but, if the half year courting him was any indication, he knew what was best. “When was the last time you menstruated?” Laszlo asked, next pressing his cheek to your bare stomach.

Your hand instinctively went to cradle his cheek, and you shrugged. “Several months ago,” you said. “I… They come and go, I suppose. Is that normal?”

“And your breasts?” Laszlo asked next, and you grimaced.

“What’re you getting at?” you asked.

“My beloved,” Laszlo said carefully, and he looked up at you from his place on the floor. His dark eyes were glistening with tears, and your heart sank and adrenaline rushed bitterly into your mouth.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Laszlo, no, I-I’m not-- I can’t be--”

“I think you are, beloved,” Laszlo said. He stood up and shucked off his suit jacket, and he laid it across your shoulders to hide your body from the cold room. “I think that you’re pregnant, my beloved. That would explain every malady you have: the aches, the irritability, the nausea, the delicateness, the increase in libido. Pregnancy offers an explanation for all of these.”

Your eyes filled with tears again, but a smile came with them. “You…” you started, and you sent a weak punch to Laszlo’s firm chest. “You absolute bastard!”

Laszlo laughed and tugged you into him, and you hugged him tightly. Laszlo, your wonderful Las, the father of your child. “Oh, my beloved,” he sighed, kissing the side of your head. “How did I not see it before?”

“Men can tend to be blind to such things,” you said. “But I feel as if a special blockade is up for you when it concerns me.”

“I agree,” Laszlo said. His hand came up to rest against your face, and you leaned into his touch. “My dearest girl…” he hummed, and he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours. You pressed back, letting a smile grace your lips. “Marry me, my beloved.”

It was hardly even a question. “Of course, Las,” you said softly. “How could I say no to you? It would ruin your reputation, having a child out of wedlock.”

“Thta's true,” Laszlo shrugged. “But I think you would want to marry me regardless.”

“How dare you act as if you know what I want,” you said, but you kissed the tip of his nose anyway. “But, yes, Laszlo. I would love to marry you. Mrs. Kreizler… Is that something you ever thought you’d hear?”

“Not from you,” Laszlo chuckled. “I never thought that you would want the burdens of marriage. In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me that upon our first meeting.”

“How could you manage any thought during that interaction?” you giggled. “If what you told me was true, you were quite distracted that day.”

Laszlo gave a soft little grunt, and he snuffled his face into your neck. “Yes, well, a man has to learn to multitask,” he said. “Oh my God, I cannot begin--”

The door to the parlor banged open, and you hurried to cover yourself. “Marcus,” Laszlo said firmly. “Give us a moment, will you?”

“Doc, this is pretty important--”

“I am having a private conversation with my fiancée, Mr. Isaacson,” Laszlo said, his voice rising just a bit. “You can tell me whatever you wish as soon as I finish this conversation.”

You looked over your shoulder to the younger Isaacson twin, and your face grew hot when your shoulder slipped from the jacket. Marcus’s eyes went wide for a moment, then he put his hands up in a plantation gesture. “Right,” he said quickly. “Um, sorry, Doc. I’ll be--”

“Do hurry it up, Marcus,” you said, pulling your fiancé’s jacket tight around you. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return.”

You watched Marcus leave the room and shut the heavy door behind him, and you scoffed and dissolved into giggles. You buried your face into Laslzo’s warm chest and kissed just over his heart, and you sighed. “I’d love to speak more about this at home,” you said. “I love you to absolute death, Laszlo.”

“And I love you more,” Laszlo said softly.

#laszlo kreizler #the alienist #laszlo kreizler fanfiction #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler x reader angst #the alienist fanfiction #daniel bruhl #daniel brühl #daniel brühl fanfiction #daniel bruhl fanfiction #daniel brühl x reader #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel bruhl x reader angst #daniel brühl x reader angst #laszlo kreizler angst #daniel brühl angst #tfatws #zemo

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helshades · 5 years

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Tip of the Nose : You Be For Men, My Scent

Does perfume really have a gender? Not remotely likely, says the purist, and don’t come telling me that virility smells like those pine-shaped car deodorant thingies. Everybody knows that real men smell of lavender.

This article is actually a rewrite of my response to this post, which my dying aging computer ate right before I thought about saving three hours worth of work. I’m not entirely sure what burning frustration and bitter regret are supposed to smell like, but if someone wishes to bottle it, they may as well name it Parfum de Hel.

On a side note, one of the participants to the earlier conversation had me blocked for some previous reason—probably unrelated to perfume discourse—so I could not reblog the initial post; nor am I willing, out of politeness, to simply caption the discussion. Therefore, here is the original post, and following is the segment I will more precisely address:

@thatiswhy:

Also, maybe I hate the mainstream cotton candy uwu line for women but don’t want to smell like a fucking frat house trying to deo away the smell of vomit on the carpet. You know what I want to smell like? White musk, and leather, and cedar, and sandalwood, and old parchment, and vetiver, and various teas, and juniper, and citrus, and cypress, and cashmere wood, and maybe in the summer like orange blossom and jasmine or fresia. These notes, while mostly present in women’s perfumes, usually are combined with overbearing fruity or flowery tones that make it smell like an aging late 17th century courtesan’s drawers, or “oriental” scents that make the whole thing reek like a 1920’s opium den. (Seriously, I have walked into a perfume shop, asked to be shown something fresh, woodsy and clean, and had Gabrielle shoved under my nose, which smells like rosewater-flavoured Turkish delight.)

Let women smell of non-jellybean scents, you cowards.

That being said, I have found all but two scents for men (to date) that don’t smell absolutely abrasive. (I’m suspecting the cheap synthetic ambergris.) 99.9% of the stuff directed at men smell as if I had one of those scrubbing metal wire thingies shoved up my throat. So no, I don’t want to shop at the men’s section, I want to be given the opportunity to find a scent that doesn’t say 80’s cartoon for girls and/or I read palms for a living.

There are many things to address in this fertile, if angry, intervention, and like often I’m starting by the end and by making a remark that has little to do with the subject at hand: I don’t think, my darling Tatty, that the ‘abrasive’ harbinger of olfactory doom you perceive in most ‘masculine’ fragrances would be synthetic ambergris, cheap or other. All ambergris today is synthetic, to begin with—well, not all, but natural ambergris is so terrifyingly expensive that we’ve got to forgive perfumers for furnishing us with only an approximation. Ambergris is extremely rare a substance; think around €10,000 per kilogram, in the lower estimation. Back in 2016, a nearly two-kilo block found by a man who was walking his dog on a Lancashire beach sold for £50,000… People have become millionaires over ambergris, although most of the time one only finds small quantities of it at once.

Now this ambergris is a very curious substance, and so important as an article of commerce, that in 1791 a certain Nantucket-born Captain Coffin was examined at the bar of the English House of Commons on that subject. For at that time, and indeed until a comparatively late day, the precise origin of ambergris remained, like amber itself, a problem to the learned. Though the word ambergris is but the French compound for gray amber, yet the two substances are quite distinct. For amber, though at times found on the sea-coast, is also dug up in some far inland soils, whereas ambergris is never found except upon the sea. Besides, amber is a hard, transparent, brittle, odourless substance, used for mouth-pieces to pipes, for beads and ornaments; but ambergris is soft, waxy, and so highly fragrant and spicy, that it is largely used in perfumery, in pastiles, precious candles, hair-powders, and pomatum. The Turks use it in cooking, and also carry it to Mecca, for the same purpose that frankincense is carried to St. Peter’s in Rome. Some wine-merchants drop a few grains into claret, to flavour it.

Who would think, then, that such fine ladies and gentlemen should regale themselves with an essence found in the inglorious bowels of a sick whale! Yet so it is.

— Herman Melville, Moby Dick (1922), chapter XCII, ‘Ambergris’.

In perfumery, ambergris is distilled into an alcohol-based solution known as ‘pure amber’ which, when exposed to air and sunlight, can be separated into several derivatives, notably terpenes and steroids. In fact, ambergris is mainly constituted from ambrein (25–45%) and epicoprosterol (30–40%). Ambrein is progressively degraded by sea water, sunlight and air into several compounds which are chiefly responsible for its smell, notably ambroxide and ambrinol. Modern perfumery uses ambroxide as a substitute for natural ambergris, which is easily synthesised from… a type of sage plant! To be exact, from sclareol, a fragrant chemical compound found in clary sage (Salvia sclarea). Sclareol kills cancer (yes.), and also it smells really good, with a sweet, balsamic scent very reminiscent indeed of the most important notes of natural ambergris.

Ambergris is essentially mucus naturally produced by certain sperm whales (it is believed that less than 5% of the species produces ambergris, possibly the largest of them, which prey on bigger animals) to protect their intestinal tract from lesions caused by the passing of sharp objects, chiefly undigested squid beaks: eventually, the whale excretes this soft, blackish, pungent concretion which is going to drift for a long while before landing on the shore, where it’ll spend maybe years drying out and hardening under the sun and the air. The colour lightens to a golden grey, and the smell gradually sweetens to a salty musk with whiffs of honey, tobacco and leather—depending on the block, the notes will vary in proportions and in potency.

Almost needless to say, then, that the number of perfumes using authentic ambergris isn’t especially high. Conversely, synthetic ambroxide is a beloved template of the modern perfumer’s palette, one of the reasons being that it helps stabilise scents very well. So popular, in fact, that specialists speak of 40% of the perfumes created in the last thirty years using it! Ambroxide was first synthesised in 1950, by Max Stoll for Geneva-based Firmenich SA. That means that Aimé Guerlain had to use natural ambergris when he created the masterpiece Jicky in 1889 (the oldest perfume in the world to be sold without interruption since its creation), even though Jicky was amongst the very first perfumes to use synthetic ingredients! Most notably, Jicky pioneered a great use of several synthetic molecules, chief of which vanillin, the synthetic vanilla which had been discovered in 1874 by German chemist Ferdinand Tiemann. (The first perfume using synthetic ingredient was Houbigant’s Fougère Royale in 1882, using coumarin, one of the key molecules of tonka beans.)

According to the legend of Jicky, it was composed by Aimé Guerlain (one of founder Pierre Guerlain’s two sons, and the second generation’s in-house perfumer, whilst Gabriel was the manager; then came Gabriel’s own sons, master perfumer Jacques and manager Pierre. The last family perfumer was Jacques’ grandson Jean-Paul, who retired heirless in 1994, after which the company was sold to soulless, tentacular multinational LVMH, much to the dismay of Guerlain aficionados all over the world) ... in memory of a broken heart he suffered in his youth as he came back to France after studying in England without his lady love, the lovely ‘Jicky’. Though mostly advertised to a female clientèle, Jicky shocked many a respectable woman of the time by its daring use of sensual animal musks (ambergris, musk, castoreum, and the devilishly sexual civet) at the heart of its balms, spices and aromatic flowers, most especially lavender, luxurious iris, sultry sandalwood and hot leather... Until the 1910s, when women’s press began recommending it, Jicky was quite the sensation amongst... English dandies... and Marcel Proust, of course. (In 1925, for the International Exhibition of Decorative Arts, Jacques Guerlain presented a twist on Jicky, in which he had removed lavender and woods but added bergamot and, especially, a massive dose of ethylvanillin [three times more potent than vanillin!]: Shalimar was born.)

Men and women used to wear the very same perfumes. Until the 19th century, really, the market wasn’t segmented and there was no such thing as a masculine scent. When the European courts started bathing again and heady perfumes fell out of fashion to the benefit of lighter, tarter, fresher fragrances modelled after the famous Eau de Cologne (1708), women wore them too. The French Jean-Marie Farina who became with his own Eau de Cologne (1809) the official perfumer of the imperial court furnished Empress Joséphine as well. It was for Empress Eugénie, wife of Napoleon III, that Pierre Guerlain created his 1853 Eau de Cologne impériale in the famous ‘bee bottle’ (with his 69 bees symbolising the Empire), which earned Guerlain the envied title of ‘Patented Perfumer of Her Majesty’.

The real difference in perfume usage that occurred during the 19th century was actually a matter of social marking via the use of perfumes of varied qualities, complexities and prestige: if perfume remained an element of luxury, now the aristocracy wasn’t alone in this privilege; moreover, clothes weren’t so elaborate and expensive anymore, and social differences were expressed in subtler ways than before the Revolution. In Paris, House Guerlain furnished a more aristocratic clientèle, whereas the upper-middle class went to Roger & Gallet (successors to Jean-Marie Farina), Lubin or L.T. Piver; meanwhile, middle-middle and lower-middle classes patroned Bourjois and Gellé Frères. The lower-middle class also went to ‘perfume bazaars’ that proposed the same products on sale, plus low-quality products.

The first respectable (only) concurrent to French perfumery was actually England, thanks to the well-earned reputation of its barbers, who created their own fragrances, at once discreet, elegant yet tenacious. Those were scents designed to be applied on the skin as tonics in the first place, after an expert shave, and as such they were based on aromatics, chiefly lavender, made from the essence of the delicate English variety: in the beginning 20th century, Frenchmen often wore Yardley’s 1873 English Lavender, precisely, and it was something of an ubiquitous odour in cosmetic products more specifically destined to men, such as soaps and creams.

It is no wonder, then, that when Ernest Daltroff created the first ever perfume only for men, judiciously titled Pour un homme, in 1934, for House Caron which he co-founded with his brother Raoul in 1904, the fragrance was based on lavender, tenderly joined in matrimony with sweet vanilla and lying on a respectable, tranquil base of an ambre accord (vanilla, benzoin, labdanum, the ‘oriental’ assembly created by genius François Coty in 1908 Ambre antique, the family namer of ambrés perfumes) sandalwood and musk. Legend has it that Ernest, who loved lavender, added the vanilla to please Ms. Félicie Wanpouille, Caron’s artistic counsellor, whom Ernest might have loved even more than lavender. She had joined Caron in 1906 and their collaboration produced some of the most beautiful perfumes of the time, and most original: in 1919, they created the first ever leather-scented perfume, Tabac Blond, in 1927, Ernest made En avion as a gift to Félicie’s friend the star aviatrix Hélène Boucher... They also invented the ‘loose powder’ technique in make-up.

Félicie never left, but Ernest did, along with Raoul, when the Nazis invaded France: the Daltroff brothers were the sons of Jewish Russian immigrants, after all. Since Caron exported a lot of products and had opened a shop on New York’s 5th Avenue, Ernest emigrated to the United States in 1939. He never came back, and died in Canada in 1941. But Félicie Wanpouille stayed, in spite of the Occupation, keeping Caron afloat; 1941 was also the year she got the genius idea, since she couldn’t pay the heavy taxes the Nazis imposed on Jewish-made goods, to rename Pour un homme into Pour une femme, a name which it kept until the war ended. To this day, Caron remains one of the very houses to be devoted entirely to perfume—and free of any multinational’s influence, for that matter. (They’ve not, alas! remained free from the clutch of Reformulation, but that is a story for another day.)

There are two very good reasons why Tabac Blond bears this name. The first was purely commercial: in 1919, women were beginning to smoke, but they smoked almost exclusively blond tobacco from Virginia, which was considered too feminine for men. The second was that blond tobacco exhales honeyed mossy notes which the perfume evoked tantalisingly alongside the darker leather, the cooler iris and the warmer amber, meaning that it was the perfect perfume to cover the smell of tobacco smoke. Two years later, Molinard released the wonderful Habanita, in a small bottle shaped like a cigarette lighter, as an oil to dab the tip of your cigarette so as to make women’s clouds suaver (it was released as a proper perfume in 1924, and long advertised as ‘the most tenacious perfume in the world!’, not without reason).

It wouldn’t be illogical to consider that if there are masculine scent in the first place, it’s probably because femininity went through some drastic changes from the late 19th century onwards, especially as a consequence of the two World Wars. The daring, tobacco-covering orientals which the flappers favoured were a direct reaction to the dreamy flower ideal of the previous decades, notably the artificial immobility of the Victorian woman and her continental equivalents, which the Roaring Twenties more or less exorcised with a call to adventure and independence. Women wore more perfume and more daring perfumes; it was only expected that men would start wearing perfume, real perfume again.

Something really odd happened in the 1980s, but maybe that, too, was to be expected: a kind of paradigm shift occurred in perfumery, as the laundry detergent companies which had become extremely rich and powerful thanks to the combined power of advertisement and mass consumption bought most of the perfume houses, perfume started imitating cosmetics more than the reverse. Once upon a time, the cosmetics industry would copy, or try to, the scents most popular in perfumery, like L’Oréal’s Elnett hairspray famously reprised Chanel’s Nᵒ 5’ aldehyde overdose. Now, trendy perfume smells like shampoo or body spray.

It seems, nonetheless, like the ancestor of all terrible men’s perfumes that smell like body spray—the men’s version, the kind that makes you want to claw your own nose off—was the otherwise respectable Drakkar Noir by Guy Laroche (1982). So beloved by the public that every hygiene or cosmetic product targeted towards suddenly attempted to smell like it. Drakkar, however, was a good perfume, even if by today’s standards it would be perfectly unwearable for one’s entourage (in a vicinity of approximately 30 metres). ‘Powerhouse’ doesn’t begin to describe the type of scent that was popular in the late 80s and early 90s. And then they started using Calone™. Like, a lot of it. Have you ever smelled calone? Wait, you have. You’ve hated it. Calone in itself was a great chemical revolution: finally, the possibility for perfumers to imitate the very odour of water! Bring in the marine-like scents! Bring in the marine-like scents... I kinda want to throttle Calvin Klein for Escape (1991). Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not approach anything subtitled ‘Sport’. It’s worse. It’s way worse. (These days, calone is used to give a ‘watermelon’ aspect to everything, but chiefly summer flankers of denatured classic feminine perfumes. A hint: it smells like shampoo. Everything does.)

You can blame advertisement for convincing men to wear perfume on top of extremely pungent deodorant, too, but me personally, I strongly resent women who think classics are ‘too feminine’ and want to shop at the men’s section of their local perfume supermarket because it’s supposed to be ‘gender-defying’. It really isn’t. That’s not what equality is about, getting to smelling just as bad as the dudes, it isn’t. Even more importantly, perfume is not gendered; marketing is. Skin chemistry varies noticeably from person to person and our hormones do play some role in what we smell like, and therefore in what one perfume will smell like on different people, but apart from that, any sex-based olfactory discrimination is but a marketing ploy to exploit a segmented market so that the members of one household purchase and consume as many differentiated items as possible. Mainstream perfumery these days is mostly hopeless: the Thinking (wo)Man would be well inspired to turn to ‘niche’ perfumery, which isn’t always that confidential but presents the great advantage of being generally more creative and personal. Websites exist where people exchange ideas and samples and there is a whole alternative market for scents that allow people not to ruin themselves buying a full bottle of certain great fragrances. Overall, it is a nice way to get to wear something that feels like a personal choice.

#tip of the nose #aromaphilia #answers #thatiswhy #a work in progress as i've yet to address the lutens question #will do after sleep #but as it happens i must go to bed and get a few hours of sleep in #for tomorrow morning i'm bidding on several bottles of lutens perfume

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roberthunter62 · 2 years

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La Flaca, by Jarabe de Palo

From Jarabi to Jarabe. A curious coincidence with letters. Jarabi means something like ‘beloved’ in Mandingo, Jarabe means syrup in Spanish. Something sweet and sticky in any case. I like sweet in all contexts, both sugary puddings and soppy stories, I dislike sticky in most contexts, even when things are sweet. I never really liked boiled sweets, the magnificently English sticks of rock or chewy toffee. I liked jelly tots but never rowntrees pastilles.

Syrup, to begin with was Lyons (?) golden syrup, a tin of which was always in the cupboard though I never saw it used; then at some point, cough syrup, which could have easily become addictive, I am surprised it hasn’t found its way into alternative cocktails like a bitters or vermouth. On a tangent, I remember being given a teaspoon of medicine on a lump of sugar when having the stitches taken out after splitting my head open, it was brown and bitter, I only ever had it once, but the memory is strong.

The syrup must have been used in sponge puddings, the great memory of the sixties and seventies of proper, warming stodge. Apple sponge, rhubarb crumble, blackberry and apple pie, all served with birds custard, although I didn’t love custard in the way I have subsequently come to mythologise it. Swiss roll and custard has just forced its way into my consciousness, an overpoweringly potent memory and now I am wondering where on earth I could get a regular simple swiss roll in this day and age.

Comfort food, comfort music. Jarabe de Palo wrote a couple of the most feelgood sticky (in terms of: they get stuck in your head) pop songs in the history of pop music, “Depende” and “Bonito” and La Flaca is not far behind, though slightly more sophisticated. Por un beso de la flaca yo daría lo que fuera...

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pastille13 · 1 year

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uigchloe26797949-blog · 5 years

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I Just Sewed Two Pieces Collectively

For Serenity's last birthday, her Princess Presto Tea Get together, I made superhero capes for all the youngsters! If you have any inquiries about where by and how to use https://Www.Superheroine-Costume.com/, you can get hold of us at the internet site. It was rather a lot simpler than I assumed it may be, and i needed to share a number of tips and the design I settled on for them. The bottom is 21 inches broad (22 reduce), with a gentle curve at the underside as a result of I wished it to look wavy. The size from the bottom of the cape to the neckline is 23 inches (24 reduce) At this level, the cape is 12 inches huge. So it's a triangle with a rounded backside. Then the neck, which I simply eyeballed, is about six inches if you measure from the highest of the cape where the velcro is to the neckline. The final form is the most important, I sized it in order that I may get as many capes as attainable from my 60 inch extensive fabric. The capes are reversible, and that i used reds, darkish purples, medium purples, lavender and sizzling pink.

I simply sewed two pieces together, trimmed the corners and clipped the curves, turned it right facet out, ironed it and ladder stitched them shut. For my daughter's, which I fancied up a bit, I prime stitched it. This definitely makes a big distinction, however I did not have the time and power to do it for all 14 that I made for the social gathering! Then I simply sewed velcro, one to the top proper neck piece, on to the underside left. The star and letter applique was quite simple. I just printed the biggest star I might make in photoshop, and the letter S in the Dolphin font, which is considered one of my favorites. I used iron on steam-a-seam, and top stitched it for safety. I did this before I sewed the 2 items of the cape collectively! The capes additionally look good with massive circles or Superman formed diamonds. A part of the party enjoyable was attending to decorate the capes! I had a ton of sticky-back foam, foam letters, and different stickers for this function. The youngsters beloved them! And they may add masks, wands and different various equipment to complete their superhero costumes. I additionally arrange two canvas backdrops with applicable tremendous hero designs for images! Listed below are another pages for superhero capes. I really like the applique designs at Puking Pastilles, she even has a SuperWhy design! And her diagram was useful for the beginning of my sample, although I did a special shape. I like my pointed corners, I could not clarify why.

Christian Costumes - The place to buy it? It may be that point of the 12 months when every individual, young and adults alike come out to celebrate the festive season by honing entertaining costumes - it actually is Halloween! Nearly each Halloween people at present get busy preparing to throw thematic events that include fancy dresses and Halloween adult costumes. However the greatest fear is the Halloween costumes for adults who intend to attend such parties and rejoice the festive season in their very own exclusive manner. Probably the most standard sights within the Halloween get together for adults is shoppers coming in with superhero Halloween grownup costumes that present their crime fighting taste advocating justice and honor. To acquire these superhero Halloween grownup costumes for inexpensive is now a actuality as one can acquire them or hire them via the internet from specialised sellers that ship all provides for Halloween festive events. Some of the most common Halloween costumes for adults are Batman, Superman, Justice League and numerous much more that present a crime fighter.

These Halloween grownup costume ideas are painless on the pocket as 1 can easily afford to get such Halloween costumes for adults even in tight budgets. The trick right here is to observe some strategic practices and do some decent search within the online to obtain low value Halloween costumes for adults. The on the net Halloween supplies shops are comprehensive and provide all kinds of Halloween costumes, decorations, and significantly additional. The on-line Halloween costume shops even give you gross sales and bargains in the course of festive and vacation seasons like Halloween. The over the internet Halloween grownup costume retailers even let the prospects get particular person parts akin to capes, masks, vests, as well as other such costume parts. This makes it much easier for the consumers as they're able to accommodate superhero costumes of their restricted budgets. One has to study a superhero costume that they goal to put on and see irrespective of whether or not they are able to get many of the supplies for the costume from their homes or native department shop. The opposite components that can not be procured regionally might be purchased from the on the internet Halloween supplies shop. Customizing your superhero Halloween adult costumes this fashion additionally helps you to present colors to the costume of your selecting out. This superhero Halloween costumes for adults wants considerably time and planning and for anyone who is brief on time you can normally buy or hire Halloween grownup costumes from the on-line Halloween supplier for low-cost.

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lagarconne-journal · 7 years

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Veronika Heilbrunner — Creative Influence

Veronika Heilbrunner is that refreshing combination of cool girl who also happens to be the nicest; with a healthy strain of goofiness thrown in. A street style favorite, the former model and style editor of Harper’s Bazaar Germany, Heilbrunner more recently co-founded the online fashion, style, and beauty magazine, Hey Woman!. And then there is her stately beauty—unique, effortless, and bold—all despite an utter of makeup. In fact, Heilbrunner was recently included, along with Hari Neff, Winnie Harlow, and Linda Rodin, in InStyle Magazine's May 2017 piece, Modern Girl Makeup, which trumped the beauty of individuality. And, we couldn’t agree more. But more so, what is Heilbrunner doing that we’re not? So, La Garçonne had to ask. Here, Heilbrunner exclusively shares a few of her favorite things.

What is your most worn fashion item?

I guess my vintage Levi’s jeans. I got my first pair when I was 13. Unfortunately, I didn’t keep them. The last pair I bought was in Mitte-Berlin, in a secondhand shop on Torstrasse street. I just keep on trying to find new ones, wherever I can find them—luckily, now there is RE/DONE, so it’s easier to find new pairs—because when you wear them so often, they start disappearing, having more holes and so on. I’m like a truffle swine on a mission!

What is your most beloved fashion item?

My shrunken black Acne Studios leather jacket. I bought it at their flagship store in Stockholm—I literally wear it everyday. In the summer, with a romantic dress and in the winter, layered under coats.

What’s currently on your fashion wish list?

The perfect three-piece suit.

How would you best describe your fashion look?

Romantic yet practical. I love fashion and I love beautiful outstanding pieces. But I don’t want to wear something that I can’t pull them off, or that I don’t feel comfortable in, so I’ll layer a turtleneck underneath a camisole, or pair heavy boots or sneakers with a ruffled dress, or socks with sandals.

How would you best describe your beauty look?

Very simple. My all-time goal is to look like I don’t do anything. Of course, that is not true. But I just love being able to see skin and not layers of make-up, and I think a cool look needs to be balanced with undone face and hair.

What's your daily beauty routine?

In the morning, I wipe my face with tonic from Bioderma, then put on serum by Biologique Recherché (Placenta, A-Glyca, Colostrum). My day cream and eye cream are also Biologique Recherché. I scrub my body with a brush and then put grapefruit oil (it’s mixed by my mum with Professor Wabner ingredients) or Diptyque body cream. I love Mason Pearson brushes (at home I use the big one, for travels I have the baby one in pale blue, so cute), and in my hair, I use hair oil by Davines or Sachajuan ocean mist depending on how soft or dry my hair is that day. I use YSL´s classic Touche Eclat concealer around my eyes. Then I apply Magic Stripes Strips on my eyelids and accentuate my eyebrows with a Chanel Brow Pencil in Brun Naturel 30. This takes up about 9 minutes.

In the evening I love a bath with Susanne Kaufmann salts. St. John´s Wort Bath is one of my very favorites—it’s so relaxing. I clean my face it with Lait VIP O2 Biologique Recherché cleansing milk (I am unfortunately no Cleopatra), then apply their P50 and my morning serums again. After that, my night cream is Biologique Recherché masque vernix—which doesn’t smell pleasant, but I love it! I started using their products this January and I feel my skin has improved enormously.

Did you get any beauty advice growing up? What was it, and who gave it to you?

“Always clean your face before sleeping. And, moisturize!” is probably the best advice I’ve been given by my mum. I can’t remember when exactly, but I’m sure I was around twelve years-old or so when my skin started to get difficult, and I was looking for solutions.

What is your one beauty go-to product?

Aesop Rejuvenate Body Balm.

Who do you find beautiful?

Charlotte Rampling then and now, Anita Pallenberg then and now, Daria Werbowy, Sofia Coppola.

Who did you find to be a beauty inspiration when you were growing up?

Winona Ryder, Sophie Marceau.

Do you have a tried-and-true beauty product you've been loyal to for ages?

I’ve used Kaufmanns kinder-creme as lip balm for fifteen years. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the only solution I’ve found that curbs my addiction of applying lipcare every few minutes. With Kaufmanns kinder-creme, I can go two to three hours without having to reapply anything!

What is your...

Bath product: Aromatherapy oils or Susanne Kaufmann bath salts Body lotion: Diptyque Body Cream in winter, Santa Maria Novella lotion in summer Face cleanser: Biologique Recherché Lait VIP 02 Face moisturizer: Biologique Recherché creme VIP 02 Hair product: Christophe Robin antioxidant cleansing milk with 4 oils and blueberry Fragrance: Tom Ford Portofino Neroli, Hermes Hermessence Vetiver Tonka

What beauty look do you not understand?

Layers of makeup and contouring. I find it super unattractive from close-up.

Do you have a beauty talent that you can do on yourself?

I can make myself a decent French braid in two minutes.

Which beauty step do you think is bullshit?

Primer! Never understood this one. I always assume: the more layers I put on, the sooner it’ll all rub off.

Any beauty product or treatment you're curious to try?

I’d love to do a homeopathic detox, where you get analyzed by a homeopathic doctor, then take those drops or pastilles and cut out the caffeine and alcohol for a couple weeks. I hear that everyone feels great, and basically doesn't get sick, or at least not for some time—it even also eliminates radiation from your body (that you get from flying). I’ve actually done one before, but it’s been a while. You really need to have the time for it and be in the mood—especially to go without caffeine and alcohol. Sounds weird, but it’s tough for me…

Is there a beauty product you wish someone would invent?

One moisturizer that you can use for everything—hair, hands, face and body.

Do you consider yourself wellness/health-minded?

Yes, I love the idea of being healthy because when you’re healthy, you feel great, happy, and strong. And, you can manage stress so much easier. I go through phases of taking magnesium supplements when I do a lot walking or sports. It helps to recover faster and gives me a better night’s sleep. When I feel weak and a cold coming on, I take all the vitamin supplements I can get. But in general I prefer to eat diversified, and sleep a lot.

Do you exercise?

Yes, yoga is the most important for me. I do it once a week for an hour; in between, I do quick workouts of ten minutes and stretching with our Hey Woman! instructors to de-stress and relax. We have several different workouts, even one for creativity! In general though, I walk a lot, and I really enjoy it. When at home, I horseback ride at least twice a week. It was my childhood hobby, and I just picked it up again, and it makes me so happy. Once I arrive in the stable and begin cleaning my horse, I forget all about fashion, social media, and my to-do lists. It’s like a mini-holiday every time.

Who do you think has aged beautifully?

Every woman that has not done obvious surgery to her face. I love wrinkles. They tell a beautiful story of a fun and adventurous life. Marisa Berenson and Lauren Hutton look stunning. I think it also helps to be healthy and not ultra-skinny—Brooke Sheilds or Catherine Deneuve look stunning—because too gaunt a look can make women look unnecessarily exhausted.

#veronika heilbrunner #beauty secrets #natural makeup #lagarconne

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