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Real Perfumes For Fictional People

When I remember AP English classes, I don’t necessarily remember the details of the books I read, but snippets of descriptions. The sickly sweet vanilla decay of Miss Havisham and her wedding despair. Wilted roses and arsenic, the dead romance and salted berries of Hill House. Even when I’m reading a guilty pleasure novel (no pleasure is guilty, though, to be honest)—I like to imagine the smells. Smells promote fantasy; they're all about desire. READ MORE

Commodity Fetish: This Is Not Really What a Feminist Looks Like

There’s a special drawer in my closet dedicated to lost causes, the clothes I will never wear again but that I can’t find it in me to donate or throw away. They are all, invariably, the slogan shirt—cotton shirts that scream “Fuck H8,” “This is what a feminist looks like,” folded right next to shirts from Hot Topic that say in disparaging gray on gray, “I listen to bands that don’t even exist yet.” Words, words, words. Their sentiments are the same to me in hindsight, really. There were a few years of my life where I wore my politics quite literally on my sleeve. READ MORE