how to have fits of nostalgia: burning leaves

i have a thing for perfume companies that make scents which are real. and by real, i mean scents which smell like something that exists in the world. CB I Hate Perfume makes scents i would describe not only as real, but as close to causing fits of nostalgia (and i don't even know if believe in nostalgia!). if you are ever near an actual store, the perfumer will also work his magics and make you a person-specific scent of your own.


while Z & i had no doubt that our memories of our wedding day would be multi-faceted, intricate, and unforgettable--we wanted to manipulate our minds a bit, find a way to create direct triggers. so we chose specific wedding-day-scents. the rules: outside of our initial first-purchase-sniff, we weren't allowed to open them again until the morning of. our wedding day choices are above.

Z ended up only wearing one of his two choices on the actual day, because at the last second he panicked that mixing the two together might result in the smell of burning books. but since part of our wedding weekend included a drunken camping party, the smells are both still memory-strong. i wore my flowers with my winters and felt, as i often do, like a study in both seasons.
but i have to admit--one of the most kick-ass things about Z's scent-choices are their unisex quality. i've been smelling of burning leaves all week, thinking back on our wedding day and feeling something sort of close to nostalgia--by which i mean, feeling still full-of and filling-up- with-being-in love.

here we are in the polaroid-spectra photobooth (a.k.a. guest book) at the end of the wedding (a.k.a. rocktastic-dance-party): disheveled, stinky, and happy as clams.

now go! check out the CB I Hate Perfume site, read the story behind the creator (after all, the man has won awards for his scents and, apparently, some of them are even in museums). just try hard not to think of this.