[younghollywood4ever]

[hares-pelt-sky]

I always stop to admire this ominous building and discovered it used to be a popular chop house for the mafia with a brothel on the top floor.

“I’ll have the bear steak with a side of English dandelions and pickled red deer tongues please”

[openingadoor]

Marco Pierre White by Bob Carlos Clarke.

[1engua]

[narci-suss]

Ed Ruscha

[gonniedrew]

kirsten dunst by nick haymes for lula magazine issue #5, 2007.

[quietvenus]

billboards in reykjavík pause advertising during the first three days of 2025 and instead show only pictures of isabelle huppert.

[utronabalcone]

kris krug, 2009

[narci-suss]

reminds me of dragonfly wings

[milksockets]

'yukio kobayashi for matsuda, a/w 1996, shot by nan goldin' in the fashion book - phaidon (2020)

[luxe-pauvre]

Plus, humans are by nature “just a little bit gross,” McClain says. Like civets, musk deer, and whales, we shit, we secrete, we mate, and sometimes we vomit. But we also give birth and create beauty, and for McClain, it’s this life-giving ability that links blossoms and humans. “I think there is a depth to anything that is made of life and creates life. There’s something inherently sexual in that,” she says. “Even though something like civet will smell gross on its own, it adds an element of reality.” When layered properly with other olfactory delights, this can create an evocative smell, one that you want to return to, to interrogate with your nostrils the same way you might pore over a painting. Through layering pleasure on top of disgust, perfumers can create something that resembles life — exquisite, fleeting, and mysterious.

Katy Kelleher, The Ugly History of Beautiful Things: Perfume

[myvisionly]

Brittany Murphy, Shannyn Sossamon & more at ‘The Rules of Attraction’ After Party.

Photographed By Chris Weeks, 2002.

[cityfawns]

Staff at Maison Margiela ascending the staircase

[showstudio]

Larry Clark, I want a baby before u die, 2010, (Detail), Mixed collage, 146.05 x 351.16 cm)

[jinxproof]

Kirsten Owen, 1998 | © Juergen Teller

[tanyushenka]

Strawberry vendor in Gaza, Palestine, January, 2019 @Aya Isleem

[narci-suss]

Francesca Woodman

[bluebeardsbride-archive]

Violets resist the perfumer’s art and always have. It is possible to make a high-quality perfume from violets, but it’s exceedingly difficult and expensive. Only the wealthiest people could afford it; but there have always been empresses, dandies, trend setters, and extravagants enough to keep perfumers busy. The thing about violets, which many people find cloying to the point of nausea, is that no response to them lasts long; as Shakespeare put it, they’re:

Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute.

Violets contain ionone, which short-circuits our sense of smell. The flower continues to exude its fragrance, but we lose the ability to smell it. Wait a minute or two, and its smell will blare again. Then it will fade again, and so on. (…) No scent is more flirtatious. Appearing, disappearing, appearing, disappearing, it plays hide-and-seek with our senses, and there’s no way to get too much of it.

— Diane Ackerman, ‘Smell: Of Violets and Neurons’ A Natural History of the Senses