In which we talk of cabbages and kings

Alright, not really. But it sounds nicer than "miscellaneous things", don't you think? First off, several days ago I flogged Alan Bradley's delightful book, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. Now the second in the Flavia de Luce series is available for pre-order--on shelves March 9. The Weed That Strings The Hangman's Bag it is called, and the cover is a delicious pale violet with a dancing skeleton. My galpal Jomie alerted me to the fact that the book is about to come out, and I'm glad she did. I would have hated to have missed out on the further adventures of Flavia de Luce! (I should also point out that a few days ago I received a very charming email from the author himself thanking me for my support of his work. I dearly love to see nice people do well, so I think everyone who reads this should go out and buy two or perhaps seven copies of the book...)

On to matters perfumery....I've almost finished working my way through the samples I ordered from The Perfumed Court, and I sit in puzzlement. En Passant, I am absolutely enraptured with; Tea for Two had to be chucked out. But there are three that simple bewilder me because they just sort of hang about doing peculiar and inexplicable things. Stella McCartney's Rose Absolute is a pleasant enough rose when it goes on, but it dried down to smelling precisely like Comet. People asked me if I had been cleaning the bathtub--and anyone who knows me well should NEVER ask that question. Tom Ford's Black Orchid was another curiosity. Again, it went on well enough, but the drydown was vanilla. Just...vanilla. With a name like that, I was expecting something large and lush and dangerous, not a cookie. Hermes Hiris simply smelled like an old woman's laundry hamper. A very clean, well-to-do old woman with a very nice hamper, make no mistake. But I don't especially want to smell like geriatric laundry. Having said that, any of the three would very likely smell quite divine on someone else, but they are not right for me. My personal litmus test is whether or not I can keep my nose away from my arm when I'm testing a new fragrance. If the answer is no, then I buy it. Anything less than luscious is getting tossed away. (I also sampled YSL's Parisienne. Mistake--I should have opted for the last bottle of Paris at the counter. Parisienne is a lush rose, but later it smells like a rose that has been pickled in alcohol. Paris is a better bet for me.)

Speaking of perfume...one of the Kardashians has launched a fragrance, and I cannot understand for the life of me why she would want to flog it dressed as JLo. I would never in a month of Sundays looked at this ad and thought, "Ah, one of the K girls is frolicking in public again." Instead, I figured it was Jenny from the Block promoting Glow 2.0 or some such.

And finally, it is awards season--I watch the red carpet arrivals and usually ditch the rest of the evening unless it's Oscar night and I've watched three or more of the Best Picture nominees. Usually the gowns are deeply disappointing for various reasons. (If you have more money than a small principality and a team of people to dress, coif, shoe, and bejewel you, you ought not to end up looking like you just rolled out of Del Taco and into your limo. There was a short white bedsheet affair during the Golden Globes that I STILL have not recovered from.) But this season has been well worth watching because I have found my Holy Grail of evening gowns--beautiful drape, exquisite silhouette, perfectly fitted. I concede the color might be better, but at least she pulls it off. If it were me, I would have begged them to make it in dark, bottle green or a lush violet. And then I would never take it off.