Thursday, August 05, 2010

To Live & Love: An Ode to Old Whores

There comes a time in your life when calling yourself an old whore no longer seems inappropriate. Even an old man-whore is okay. And I'm not talking about whores as in slut, sleazebag, hoochie, common bus stop skank whore, but more or less someone with a raging sensual side. I mean raging. Absolutely rabid with sensuality. I get this feeling, if one can call it a feeling, when using certain aromatics, or from products made by certain masters of formulation. Vetiver (my spelling-- vetyver) is especially redolent of old whore. So is a nice dense patchouli. Mix them together and you've got something almost toxic with sensuality. Oakmoss does it. So does labdanum and myrrh. To a lesser extent, at least for me, sandalwood can be tossed in there as well. Yet it is the combination of vetyver, patchouli and oakmoss that really reaches into my soul and extracts something long buried. Like remembering to love myself.

After a long delicious conversation on the phone with one of my favorite people today, I decided to take a well-deserved shower with one of my favorite soaps, Old Whore by Eleneetha, aka Ana (at Chant Aromatics on Etsy). What. A. Trip. I never, ever, ever get tired of these combinations of aromatics, the triumvirate of whoreness, both male and female, of vetyver, patch and oakmoss Oh, I know, I do go on, but there's magic in Ana's soap. Magic I can't get enough of. The first time I bathed with this soap it was just before bed time and I remember feeling so languidly relaxed that while I read my trashy romance novel I felt as if I were sinking into a bed of cool, damp earth and the story I was reading came alive. I consciously sorted out this subconscious effect between heaving breasts (in the book) and exciting panting (also in the book) that I was smelling the scent wafting from my skin.

Today, I wear my inner old whore on the outside; on my skin and in my hair (yes! Old Whore is a fabulous shampoo bar). Time to settle in with a cool drink and a hot man-- um, the TV remote.

1 comment:

  1. Ana's spikenard and rose soap she had during the holidays totally does that for me :) Makes me feel va-va-voom and like a hot and bothered Lusty Wench, when it doesn't make me feel like a Hallowed Temple Prostitute, the temple being the body, ahem. I think I might still have a sliver of that up on the top shelf in the shower, ha. It is probably stuck to the frankincense CO2 bar I ordered at the same time.

    There is whoreness, and then there is whoreness.

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