Quote of the Day
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A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes
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Mailed: June 26, 1970
Postmarked: San Francisco, Calif.
Sent to: San Francisco Chronicle
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It’s interesting for me to bring up a girl. You go to the toy store and the female characters there — Cinderella, the lady in Beauty and the Beast — their major task is to find Prince Charming. And I’m like, wait a minute — it’s 2005! We’ve fought so hard to have a say, and not just live through our partners, and yet you’re still seeing two-year-old girls with this message pushed at them that the only important thing is to find this amazing dress so that the guy will want you. It’s something my mum pointed out to me when I was little — so much that I almost threw up — but she’s right.
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To know oneself is to study oneself in action with another person.
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Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret., Digital Diaries by Emily Giffin, Oh, the Places You’ll Go! by Dr. Seuss, The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, She’s Come Undone by Wally Lamb
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What scents or places or experiences provide your own triggers?
I’m
inspired by odors that touch me, that shock me, that make me nostalgic,
that remind me of other people, other places. Inspiration is
everywhere—the smells of childhood, of life. A blinding white shirt in
full sun, an Indian dance, steaming rice, bewitching incense drifting
through a Malaysian temple. Ten years later, that incense inspired
L’Ether de IUNX. To me, incense evokes uplifting prayer; it’s pure,
profound, intoxicating. I like everything that burns: wood, resins,
dried leaves, hot ashes, barbeques, the smell of earth and sun-warmed
herbs.
Like a vocabulary of emotions, perfume becomes a living language for
me. Educating one’s sense of smell means becoming more aware, looking at
things differently, pausing where others hurry past. I write down my
impressions and keep everything I come across in my travels. In Mali, I
broke the bark of a yellow wood that tasted of quince, collected cooked
seeds, burned rope; in Japan, I found soft rubber that smelled of
Christmas and a neon pink ribbon that smelled like dolls; in Mexico,
driftwood, fresh cactus and black corn. Large cities are kaleidoscopes
of odors. Istanbul smells of roses and dust, New York of laundry fumes
and cinnamon. Paris is electric heaters, fresh bread and wet sidewalks.
Katmandu is dry woods and cucumber. Tokyo is grilled food, metal and
plastic.
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