One of my goals this year is to get rid of stuff. All kinds of stuff. My dedication to this goal manifested itself in a little thing called insomnia -- I jumped out of bed at 3am intent on the cull, and began piling up things I hadn't used in years. Some will be freecycled, some given away to people I know, others will be tossed in the garbage. For example, what use do I have for a Mason jar full of 3-year-old mint flavored chocolate chips? Or a huge unloved collection of copper jelly and cake molds that have been hanging on my kitchen walls since 1999? There is a closet in the hallway that I literally have not opened in over a year. What's in there? Who knows? Nothing that I need, obviously.
What's this got to do with perfume? Everything. Culling the crap makes room in my head for formulating. I desperately want to distill this year -- anything and everything. For that, I need space. Space to put my arms out and touch . . . nothing.