Hi!
Boring alert: I’m sick again, which Susan Miller foretold, so I spent most of the weekend in bed. I watched Last Stop Larrimah — a decent docuseries about a missing man in rural Australia. Watching the rough-around-the-edges community members talking about feuds and murder while sinking tinnies and sitting on eskies genuinely made me understand more about why I am the way I am (indelicate, addicted to cursing). You can take the girl out of the country…
But I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to complain about OTHER things.
☀️ SWEETIE RATES ☀️
U gotta be kitten me
I have become quite beguiled by the charms of Demeter Fragrance Library, a merchant of strange and incredibly specific scents. As a loud and proud cat freak, I recently purchased their Kitten Fur scent without having given it a sniff — something I have never dared to do before.
Forget the days of going to Mecca six or seven times to smell a perfume before even seriously considering buying it. To hell with caution. Sometimes a grown lady just wants to smell like a cat’s baby…
And now I do! It’s kind of vanilla-y, musky and undeniably animal-like. It melts into your skin, and I catch gentle wafts of it throughout the day and feel oddly comforted. Since I can’t have a kitten, I’m thrilled to be able to smell like one.
Here are some scents of the Demeter Fragrance Library scents I am eager to sniff:
Petrichor
Ambergris
Dust
Pizza
Funeral Home
Sawdust
Haunted Souls
Grass
The Weeknd
It looks like Bella Hadid remains one of the most influential women of our time. First she influenced street style, now she’s influencing the politics of her ex-boyfriends. A real queen.
Undoing the reign of evil he unleashed by co-creating The Idol, The Weeknd has donated $2.5 million USD, via his XO Humanitarian Fund, to pay for four million emergency meals for Gazans. This will feed more than 173,000 Palestinians for two weeks.
Shout out to The Weeknd for doing something genuinely great, which means I can officially enjoy Save Your Tears again without feeling kind of embarrassed, and that’s really what moral compasses are all about — my personal comfort.
Linda Evangelista being real af
Print this out and put it on my tombstone.
But what do we expect from the woman who coined the quotes “We don't get out of bed for less than $10,000 a day” and “It was God who made me so beautiful. If I weren't, then I'd be a teacher” two things I personally am always saying as well.
⛈ SWEETIE HATES ⛈
What are those?
Recently, when Timothée Chalamet isn’t making weird little jokes about Hamas on SNL or spotted drinking a (widely-boycotted) Starbucks coffee, he is committed to exactly two things:
Promoting Wonka while wearing those slutty little outfits
Being corny as hell
Despite the earth-shattering revelation that critics think that Wonka is not terrible (???) I refuse to believe this film can be anything but a Cats-esque disaster. How do I know? Just take a look at how they’re spending their marketing budget.
Little Timmy ChamCham has “designed” a pair of “shoes” with Nike to celebrate the release of Wonka. Using a Golden Ticket mechanic (how original!) just five pairs of shoes were made to be given away by Warner Brothers in a sweepsta— 🥱sorry. It’s literally too boring to even finish talking about.
They might have a ‘W’ stitched on em’, but baby these are an L! Of course they only made five. They’re ugly as sin. They shouldn’t exist at all. Who are these FOR? Three Gen X studio executives, Timothée himself, Club Chalamet and literally nobody else.
Can you imagine being a designer at Nike and having Martin Scorcese’s swagged out flavour of the month telling you to put a toddler’s scribbles on a shoe. With burgundy velvet laces. And a terry towel lightning bolt. I’d hang up from the Zoom meeting and sit quietly in a toilet cubicle for at least 20 minutes.
Pooxmoi
Instagram behemoth Deuxmoi, a one-woman sideshow of charlatanism and mistruths, has been playing a dangerous game for a while now. Since coming to prominence during the pandemic for posting unvetted and thinly-veiled celebrity ‘blind items’, I have long wondered how she hasn’t been sued to the ends of the earth.
Why? She seems to post anything that comes into her inbox. Anything at all. NBA copypastas about Austin Butler, blinds about Mark Wahlberg being into Insane Clown Posse kink, posting about the submersible being salvageable when everyone in it had already perished… It’s all screaming “SLANDER” deux moi!
But old Deuxy might have messed with the wrong one now — she’s gone ahead and pissed off Tree Paine, Taylor Swift’s very private and very, very creative good PR person. You see, Deuxmoi intimated, as she has before, that Taylor Swift and Joe Alwyn “married” in a commitment ceremony in the UK while they were still together. Wish that were me. Call me, Joe!
Anyway. Deuxmoi and Tree Paine had a little back and forth, employing claims of trauma and hill-dying before DM apologised. I am sure it was totally not under duress and she really, really meant it and she’ll never post anything false EVER again.
This whole affair very handily distracted people from the uproar in Brazil against Taylor and her team for the horrible and unnecessary death of fan Ana Clara Benevides Machado. Tree Paine strikes again. Now, if T-Pain could also strike again — that man makes hits!
My hubris
When I was in Australia in October, I heard a song I had happily drained from my memory — Confidence by Ocean Alley. I hate this song more than I hate flared leggings, and upon hearing it again, I remembered just how often it would play in offices, coffee shops and Ubers everywhere. “Sure am glad I don’t have to hear this song anymore” I said to myself, stupidly.
You see, in the divine way of the universe, this thought has come back to taunt me. In the time since I came back to the UK, the song has begun to trend on TikTok. And the worst part? TikTok seems to think I want to hear it every fourth video. I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Is it because I spread negativity in the world by talking about things I don’t like every week as a rule in a formatted newsletter? God. I just don’t know.
BYE BYE BYE