Taming of the shrew ...

I really wish I had pictures to prove the wonderful yet totally surprising tolerance Creepy has shown her new little brother, Tuck. Quite frankly, I'm astounded over how well she's doing with a freaky kitty intruder in her space. I was prepared for months of keeping them separated, being a watchdog mother hen, keeping both my babies as safe, calm and happy as possible considering the circumstances .... Creepy hates cats.

Creepy is also, well, a big girl. Her preference is to be called "fluffy". But y'all, she's just plain and simply fat. Okay. Under duress I'll admit it. She's a 15 pound orange butter ball with amazing speed and agility, sharp claws and frighteningly large teeth. I could easily imagine the damage she's capable of inflicting on the wee body of the speck of brown fluff that is Tuck. He's so little compared to her. Barely a tasty morsel. Oh the scary visions I had of Creepy getting hold of him! Makes me cringe to think of it. I am stunned to say it ain't happened. Been a close call or two, yes, but she's shown incredible restraint. I'm so proud of my girl. And you know she's getting extra treats because of it, too.

I haven't been brave enough to leave them alone together while I've been out of the house. I'm simply not ready to extend my trust of this seemingly good behavior Creepy is exhibiting. For all I know, it's my presence in the house that keeps the relative peace we've been having. What I have done is allow Tuck free range of the house while I'm home instead of keeping him stuffed, sadly alone, in the master bedroom while the Creeps and I hang out in the rest of the house. Yes, while he was in there I would go in every 30 minutes to an hour and spend time with him. We'd play with his toys, I'd give him love and he'd reciprocate. It was our safe way of bonding without Creepy launching an attack and scaring the beejeebees outta' the little fellow.

I started this letting him run the house thing last week while Creepy was outside. I figured there wasn't any way to get his scent in the house unless he actually ran around the house. I knew the quicker I could get his smell on the furniture and carpet the quicker Creepy would become accustomed to it. I'd tried the method of putting the blanket he'd been sleeping on in the living room. Creepy avoided it like the plague. I tried the tactic of sitting with him on the couch. No go. I'd tried having him in the pet carrier in the middle of the living room so Creepy could check him out and he'd still be safe from the Fangs of Death. While that trick seemed to be okay with Creepy (she glared and hissed for a minute and then walked away) I think it scared Tuck too much. When I took him back to the bedroom and got him out of the carrier he snuggled under my chin, shaking and cowed by her display of aggression. He was trapped in that carrier and, I'm sure, freaked out that he couldn't run and hide. I felt so bad I promised him I wouldn't ever do that to him again.

The one afternoon Creepy wanted back into the house and I didn't immediately see Tuck to grab him and stick him back in the bedroom. I thought, "Allrighty, let's just see what happens!" Creepy came inside and headed to the kitchen to get treats - traditional routine we have - just as Tuck came flying out of the bedroom. The doorway to the master bedroom is off the kitchen. Yeah, everybody freaked at once. Creepy headed for the highest spot she could find, the bar between the kitchen and living room. Tuck scrambled back under the bed like the Hounds of Hell were at his heels. Me? I was rooted to the floor in shock that Creepy didn't pounce on him like a duck on a Junebug. After a few minutes Tuck came beebopping back into the kitchen. Creepy eyed him like a vulture from the top of the bar. I decided to let the whole thing play out, but stayed on guard in case I had to intervene.

For nearly an hour Creepy watched, wide-eyed, as Tuck cavorted around the house. You know how kittens are, like the Energizer Bunny whacked out on amphetamines. She never made a sound unless he ventured too close - like the floor space under the bar - and then she'd growl and give a half-hearted hiss. I think she was just too amazed at this creature kah-zinging around all over the place. Tuck never paid her any attention unless she growled. Then he would stop dead in his tracks, flatten to the ground, and then beat a hasty retreat to the sanctuary of the space under the dining room table. For all of 2.2 seconds he would hide, then the bliss of the two dozen cat toys spread over the carpet would captivate him and he'd be obliviously kah-zinging again. Unfortunately, I guess the shenanigans on the floor got the better of Creepy and she launched a brief attack. Tuck was stuck back in the bedroom for awhile and had to spend another night alone in the bathroom.

The next day after I got home from work I tried it again. Only this time I made Creepy stay in the house for awhile instead of letting her go outside as I usually do. Progress was made. She still wouldn't let Tuck get more than a couple of feet near her without the show of fangs and a bit of growling. But overall, she really surprised me. She did seek the higher elevations for an hour or so but eventually relaxed enough to lay around on the floor. The biggest step came when she took her favorite spot on the back of the sofa for a siesta while I was kicked back watching a movie. Tuck meandered over and got on the pillow behind my head. For over an hour we laid together in peace. I messed it up by getting up to get the camera to take a picture for y'all to see them lying quietly, barely three feet of space between them. Creepy didn't budge but Tuck had to come investigate when he heard to little ring tone my digital camera has when it turns on. Lost the photo op.

With such a good evening I decided to really test the waters and let Tuck stay loose for the entire night. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. Cat fights weren't the issue, though I did wake a couple of times to some hissing. I guess Creepy wanted to come to bed with me (another tradition we have) but found the wee brown fur ball that is Tuck to be just too much of a hurdle to overcome. Tuck, on the other hand, thought the whole thing to be fabulous. My head was the favored perch for napping, bathing and midnight cavorting. My eyelids and nose were fascinating temptations and received much attention through the night. I'm sporting a few pin holes in my scalp from that vermin's tiny, needle sharp claws and the battle waged against my hair sometime around 3:00 am. From about 4:30 am until almost 6:30 am a serious game of "chase my own tail" ensued, the ball field was, of course, me.

Today was an even better day. Yep, had a close call once or twice. Must be ever vigilant for a bit longer. Seems that Creepy has a jealous streak regarding her scratching post. She still hisses at him if he gets near her but she watches with great interest if I let him near me, pick him up, or love on him. It's as if she just can't decide what she's supposed to do with him.

Then, around lunch time, an amazing thing happened ... Creepy let him get this close .......

Wow, people. I really mean Wow! No major hissy fit, no chasing him away, no running in the other direction to get away from him. An incredible display of tolerance. Of course, Creepy had just been getting her Zen bliss on with her "Cat Magnet", which she loves almost more than me. Gives herself a good scratchin' when I can't. And as you can see, I have a hard time keeping the cat hair cleaned out of it ... but that's neither here nor there in this story.

All right, she did hiss once at him because he was doing the butt-wiggle with intent to pounce on the big orange fluffy thing. He decided not to push his luck and did a funny thing ... he went over to the sofa and got into Creepy's favorite place to nap. Brave little Buckaroo.



Namaste, y'all ...

Abstractly speaking ...

My theory is that when I'm stuck in an artistic rut my best course of action is to paint an abstract. Oh sure, there's a certain amount of structure to painting an abstract, but for the most part, it's an exercise in creativity and letting your sense of the visual take over the process. In an odd sort of way it's somewhat like creating an image through graphic design. It's really rather liberating. It's therapeutic. Y'all, it's just a damn lot of fun.

Since I prefer to work on large canvases I work on the floor when painting an abstract. I throw a towel down on the carpet - yeah, carpet in a studio, I know - and just start mushing gesso and various texture mediums on the canvas. Break out the big fan and let that dry. Then the magic begins. I dig through my stash of acrylic paints, pick out colors that strike my fancy, grab a few paint brushes, a spray bottle of water and a bottle of alcohol and get to work. My most recent abstract-in-progress has been on that towel several times already.

It began it's metamorphosis several months ago as an attempt at an abstract design of a field of Texas bluebonnets. I had this idea: a visual of looking down from an aerial view, maybe like being in an airplane, over a field of bluebonnets. Considering I've never looked down at a field of bluebonnets somewhere high in the sky over Texas you can probably guess the first attempt wasn't a success. My husband, a real live Texan, took one look and asked me what the Hell it was supposed to be. Try as he might, he never could see it as bluebonnets ... and the man knows what those damn bluebonnets look like. I considered it a bomb and stuck the canvas in the closet for awhile.

But the idea kept nagging at the back of my brain. Struggling to be brave in the face of adversity, I dragged it out of the closet and gave it another go. Again, dismal failure. The husband took one look at the painting, one look at me, then quietly shook his head. In frustration I shoved the canvas back in the closet and ended up attempting it yet again on a smaller scale. Sadly, what was supposed to be an abstract painting became the landscape, Field Of Bluebonnets. Well, I must have done something right with that one because the husband loved it. Thinks it's one of my better paintings. Go freakin' figure. I don't even really like landscapes. I'm stumped. I think it's okay, but honestly, that's about as much enthusiasm as I can muster for it.

Feeling cranky from inability to abstractly render a decent image of a field of bluebonnets, and from not really doing any art at all of late, I decided to pull out the other canvas and play with it. What the heck, right? It already had texture medium and some paint on it. Why waste it? Certainly couldn't hurt it. Maybe something could come of it, even if it wasn't a stinkin' field of bluebonnets. So out of the closet it came one more time and took it's place on the Mystic Towel Of Abstraction. (yeah, yeah)

I liked the rust and terra cotta colors I'd put on the canvas from the first time I'd worked with it. It still had a patch of blue in the middle from before as well. I sat in the floor and stared at it until my mind started to wander. I kept being drawn to that little patch of bright blue. I started thinking about water, about big lakes and trees and small sandy beaches at the edge of the water where you could park a camping chair and prop up a fishing pole. I could see little tributaries branching off, meandering across the landscape, creating little tiny lakes of their own. I could see the rough, rugged mountains rising up from the landscape, bare of trees but full of color from the layers of earth that built them up.

This is what has developed thus far .......

Laying upon the Mystic Towel Of Abstraction.

The texture medium in detail.

The abstract as it currently looks.

Please bear in mind these photos were taken in the studio, incorrect lighting and all that crap. It really looks better live and in person. I swear. Those weirdly faded parts are just how the paint reacted to the flash on the camera. I tried it without the flash, but the pictures came out blurry and even crappier than with it. So. Anyhoo. Moving on.

Now, where I will go from here is still a mystery. I'm going to go back into the studio this evening and ponder it for awhile. I'm bordering on liking it as it is, but feel that it still needs some tinkering here and there. It's not "just right". When I'm finished I'm going to coat it with a layer of varnish which, in theory, will give the colors an extra boost. I think the green really needs it because it has a tendency to be dull on the canvas sometimes. This is one of those times.

I'm already thinking about the next abstract. I'm envisioning really bright colors, almost neon, but I'm not sure how to accomplish that with the type of paints I have. I'm not really wanting to purchase more right now either. But I want to try something with vibrant magentas, orange, turquoise and maybe a rich cobalt blue. We'll see how it goes. For now, it's one abstract at a time.

Namaste, y'all ...

Isn't it grand? ...

A "Grand Opening", that is.

This past Friday our store had it's official Grand Opening! While I wouldn't say it was a run-away success, which is naturally what I would have liked, we still did very well. I'm pleased at the response. I know it will only continue to grow.

Technically, Paul and I opened the center/store on April 23rd. In business, it's referred to as a 'soft opening'. It gets the doors open, gives the public a chance to learn about the business being open without the worry of grand opening pressure. People come in and see what you have, services you offer and you get an opportunity to find out what people are looking for. Come time for the 'grand opening', typically scheduled about a month after the soft opening, you are more prepared.

And what did we add to our center in the past month? Well, exciting stuff!

• A friend and naturopathic physician-in-training, Judy LeRoux, has put some of her products in the store and is now offering in-house consultations as well. This woman really knows her stuff and I'm tickled pink to have her services available to customers.
  
• Ralph Timmerman, whom I've known for several years as an acquaintance but had no idea he was a licensed massage therapist, has taken one of our rental areas and is offering a variety of massage therapies at the center. I started getting my very first massage the other day but was interrupted and had to get back to work. Trust me, I'm getting a full-fledged appointment ASAP! Wow! It's really nice that Ralph is such a nice man, too. Not hard on the eyes either, if you ladies know what I mean .... :)
  
• A new friend, Char Mullen, has gifted us with a consignment arrangement on a large selection of her stones and crystals, as well as a good selection of essential oils. The stones/crystals really add a wonderful display and sparkle (y'all know I love me some sparkles!) to the retail space. Char is also a licensed spiritual counselor and offers astrology consultations, sacred card readings (which she's very good at!!!), medicine wheel teachings along with other classes and groups. I'm glad I've met her and I'm looking forward to building this new friendship with her.

One of the draws to our grand opening was the 10 minute freebie Reiki sample sessions Paul and I offered. I'm not sure how many we ended up doing (a lot!) and every single person walked away impressed and/or pleased. I'm sure we'll end up booking full appointments from most all of them. That's a good feeling. To know that we are bringing something so foreign to this area, to these people and their traditional, if not somewhat narrow, way of thinking about health and wellness and they are surprisingly receptive to it.

Out of all the people who've come in since we opened the doors, I don't think I've had but maybe one client so far who knew anything about Reiki. All of them have never even heard the word, have no clue what it is, but a strong enough of a cord was struck for them to get past their hesitations and reservations and try it. Several are already repeat clients. It makes me happy to think Paul and I are planting seeds of change within our community, we're building a true wellness center. I find that amazing.

But most of all, I find it humbling.

Namaste y'all ...

An unexpected addition to the family.

Walking out to my truck after leaving the store on Saturday afternoon I heard the one sound that can rip straight to my heart and flood my eyes with tears in 2.2 seconds ... a lost kitten meowing. Our store is in the middle of town and the public parking area behind it is located in the middle of busy streets. The only way a kitten could have gotten back there was for someone to have set it out.

Alone. Defenseless. Starving. Scared.

Damn people and their heartlessness!!!

I tossed my stuff in the truck and started following the sound to the source. I discovered the little fur ball under the loading ramp of the store located behind ours. No way I could get to it. Chain link fencing, overgrown vines, big delivery van parked in the way. Poor thing was so frightened, wanting to come to me but terrified to do so. There we were, it meowing in distress, my stomach turning into knots. For about fifteen minutes I tried soft talking and coaxing, holding out my hand and wiggling my fingers for it to come to me. It just meowed and peaked it's little nose around the wood framing of the dock. It stayed at distance, a frustrating arms length away.

Then I remembered one of the artists that rents studio space in the basement of our store had a can of tuna! I rushed back inside, fumbling with my keys to unlock the door, ran down the stairs, found the tuna ... no can opener. Damn! I knew I had to go to the grocery store to get food for Creep anyway so I ran back out to the truck, drove as quickly as traffic and the speed limit would allow - okay, slightly faster - ran through the store, grabbed a bag of Creepy food, a bag of kitten food and a small can of soft kitten food for the lure. I elbowed my way through the crowds to the self-check isle, stomped my foot in frustration at the slowness of it, and hurried back out the door as fast as I could. Praying the whole time the kitten would still be there, that it hadn't tried to go across any of the streets.

I came screeching back into the parking lot, all but flinging myself out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, all ears for that pitiful meowing. Still there! The can had a pull-tab. I ripped it off, only then realizing I didn't have a spoon or anything to get it out of the can. Yeah, well, that's why God gave us fingers. I found a piece of scrap fabric laying on the steps beside the loading dock (that particular store is a fabric shop) and put a little food down just past the edge of the dock.

A tiny little nose peeked out, sniffing the air, and quickly gobbled that pebble sized bit of food. I tried putting small bits of food in a line to the whole can, hoping it would work it's way long the trail, to the can so I could snatch it up. Alas, it was just too scared to come out more than a nose length. Only once did it stick it's head out far enough that I could go for the scruff of the neck. I wasn't expecting it and unfortunately the kitten moved back faster than I could grab.

It was starting to get late. I'd sat there for almost two hours. I was torn. I was afraid I couldn't catch it but I knew I couldn't just go off and leave it there. Every time I thought I would have to give up, to leave it, it would meow and my heart would cramp up like it was being squeezed by a huge fist. Finally, I sent up a prayer and asked what was the right thing to do. Not all creatures can live. Not all creatures can be saved. Sometimes, no matter how much it hurts, no matter the guilt I would have to find a way to live with, I might have to let it die. I knew it would be getting dark soon, the threat of a storm lurking overhead. I might have to just get in the truck and go home. With tears in my eyes, I prayed from the heart and asked ... "What do I do?"

I heard one word. Patience.

I took that can of food, dumped the whole thing on that piece of cloth and set it on the ground at the edge of the dock. I waited. It seemed like an hour but finally this tiny little head comes out, nose twitching. A little further. A little closer to the food. It's stomach overcoming the fear long enough to venture far enough out to eat. Meowing and grabbing mouthfuls of food at the same time.

That time I was ready.

I snatched it up before it knew what happened.

I quickly snuggled it in my lap and stuck the food back in it's face. I held it as gently but as firmly as I could and it ate more than half that can of food. As soon as it stopped eating I yanked my t-shirt out (from being tucked in my pants) and wrapped the bottom if it around the kitten, hurried across the parking lot and jumped in the truck. The kitten stayed wrapped in my shirt almost all the way home. About a mile or so from the house it got loose and went straight under the seat.

Oh great! I could just see it leaping out and running off into the woods as soon as I parked in the driveway behind the house. When I got home I eased the truck door open and slipped out. I found it, hunched into a ball and shivering with fright, under the backside of the seat and quickly snuggled it back into my t-shirt. Straight shot into the house and into the master bathroom. With it safely ensconced in there I was able to get one of Creepy's extra litter boxes fixed with litter, food and water in bowls, a few spare cat toys and went into the bathroom with the stuff. It was hiding behind the laundry hamper.

Poor thing. I put the hamper on it's side and lined it with towels and my t-shirt. I put the kitty in with a stuffed toy skunk for company while I got everything else ready. It wasted little time getting to the food bowl. Drank a bit of water. Skittered around it's new environment for a minute. Then the most wonderful thing happened ... it came up to me and head-butt loved my hand. It started to purr like crazy. For the next thirty minutes I got an incredible, full-fledged dose of kitty love.

I don't know if it was just grateful for being saved and now felt safe and protected, it's belly full, a warm pair of hands of hold it and pet it, a warm washcloth bath (which it totally loved!) to make it feel a little cleaner. I don't know. What I do know is it is the sweetest, lovingest, purringest, fuzz ball I've had the pleasure of holding in a very long time. It was worth being saved. A hundred times over.

Now, I don't think Creepy will agree to that one iota. Nope, Creepy thinks it's a nasty, horrible, vermanistic abomination violating her world. When Creepy smelled it on my hands she laid her ears back and hissed like the Devil had just reared up out of the ground. She ran and hid under the dining room table and had a growling fit. Hussy actually swatted at me as I walked past. After she settled down, and I washed my hands, we made peace with some cat treats.

Later, when I opened the bathroom door and was sitting there on the floor with the kitten, Creepy came to investigate. Spying the kitten, she stopped in her tracks at the doorway, lowered her back and ears, growled and slunk backwards in retreat. I didn't see her for the next half hour. Not an unexpected reaction, considering her history of antisocial behavior with all other cats. I knew from the get-go this wasn't going to be easy. Creepy has been the sole feline in this house since her arrival eight years ago. She isn't going to adjust to another kitten quickly, nor easily ... if at all.

I tried bringing the kitten into the living room and sitting on the couch with it for awhile to see what Creepy would do. When she first came over she didn't realize the kitten was there. When the kitten, whom I've named "Tuck" because of the way he tucks his tail and tucks his body into the crook of your arm to snuggle, peeked over the edge of the sofa Creepy almost fainted. Her ears flattened completely and she hissed at both me and Tuck with true and sincere hostility. I tried to talked to her calmly, introduce the kitten, but I didn't dare reach out to touch her. I'm sure I would have drawn back a bloody stump of a hand. She was that upset. She again retreated to the safety of the dining room table, glaring and growling her disapproval of the situation and the invader.

Last year I debated for awhile about getting another cat. I'd thought that if it stood any chance of working it would have to be a kitten. But, fear of how Creepy would react, fear of her hurting a little kitty made me decide against it. Now, a kitten has come to me, to my care, and I don't know what to do. To be honest, I'm not sure this will work out well. Like I said, it may be impossible to get Creepy to even tolerate his presence in some semblance of acceptance. I just don't know. But then, it may be exactly what Creepy needs, a friend and playmate. I've always had at least two cats when I've had them at all. They keep each other company. But Creepy has always been alone. She may be too old and set in her ways to put up with the indignities of another cat in the house. I do have a great fear she will hurt it. Creepy is a big girl and this kitten is so small, so frail. I will admit freely that I'm worried about how it's going to go between the two of them.

But Tuck is a darling. At first, I thought he was black but in the light I discovered he's dark chocolate brown with faint lighter brown markings. Even his little feet pads and nose are brown. Well, take a look at the photos and see him for yourself ......

Aaaaah! Holy smokes, what was that flash!

Mmmmmm! Hands are for lovin'!

I like feet! They are really good for lovin', too!

Must kill this thing with feathers!

Yummy! Food! And my head fits so nicely in the bowl!

So, naturally I called the husband and told him about our new addition. He's excited. I had to take the pictures and send them to his phone because he won't be home until this coming weekend. No way he could stand it that long to see his new baby. I told him, "Well, it's a day early, but Happy Father's Day! It's a boy!" He laughed. I have a feeling this cat, if he survives the Creepy, may end up being a "daddy's boy" the way Creepy is a "momma's girl". The husband loves lovey cats and Tuck is certainly that. A snuggler with a capital S.

Tomorrow I guess I have to call and make an appointment with the vet for a once-over inspection and de-worming. Then in a few months it will be another appointment for the "snip" ... which I'm a firm believer in having done. All of the pets I've ever had have been spayed or neutered. Not that I have to worry about more kittens, but I don't want Tuck to break bad with his whole maleness and mark up the house with urine, ya' know? Not a pleasant thing.

Wish me luck!

Namaste, y'all ...

Showdown at the OK Corral

It started out as a nice morning. Not to warm yet, everything was quiet. Since I'm not going in to town today I let Creepy go outside. She loves it out there. I left the back door open and pulled the sliding screen closed so I could hear her if she wanted in for a snack. So I'm here at the computer, drinking my coffee, checking email and reading blogs. The Creeps was hanging out on the porch. Yep, all quiet and peaceful for about twenty minutes.

Grrrrrrrr. Yeeeooooowwwwwwww. Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

I'm far too familiar with those sounds. It meant we had an intruder. Our sacred space and peaceful morning had been violated. Buddy had come to call. As far as Creepy is concerned, Buddy is not a welcome guest.

"Hey! You're in my space fur face. I'm startin' to get fuzzed over here!
Don'tcha' dare come any closer!"

"I will kill you with my death ray eyes!"

"What???"

"Sheesh! I'm just layin' here. I swear! I ain't doin' nuthin'!"

"I reign surpreme!"

The stand off lasted about half an hour. Creepy holding down the porch railing, emitting threatening growls and hissing. The nemesis, Buddy, wallowed around in the gravel, occasionally looking at Creepy as if she'd completely flipped her lid. I guess he got tired of the negative energy and wandered off to find a more congenial place to hang.

Death of an icon.

PARIS (AFP) — French fashion giant Yves Saint Laurent, one of the great designers of the 20th century who revolutionized women's dress, has died at the age of 71 after a lengthy illness.

Saint Laurent, whose black trouser suits and safari jackets became an icon of women's liberation in the 1960s, died late Sunday of a brain tumour, his former lover and longtime business partner Pierre Berge said.

He had suffered poor mental and physical health for much of his life and had been seriously ill "for a year," Berge told French radio. The funeral will take place Friday in Paris.

The reclusive designer retired from haute couture in 2002 after four decades at the top, designing for French actress Catherine Deneuve and using supermodels such as Jerry Hall and Laetetia Casta to show off his clothes.

French leaders and fashion chiefs hailed Saint Laurent as a fashion revolutionary.

"One of the greatest names of fashion has disappeared, the first to elevate haute couture to the rank of art," said French President Nicolas Sarkozy.

"Yves Saint Laurent infused his label with his creative genius, elegant and refined personality, discreet and distinguished, during a half century of work, in both luxury and ready-to-wear, because he was convinced that beauty was a necessary luxury for all men and all women," Sarkozy said in a statement.

Berge said Saint Laurent "knew perfectly well that he had revolutionised haute couture, the important place he occupied in the second half of the 20th century".

"Yves St Laurent invented everything, revisited everything, transformed everything to the service of a passion, to let woman shine and to free her beauty and mystery," said Francois Pinault, head of the PPR fashion empire in a statement.

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My earliest memories of "fashion" are images of YSL designs featured in Vogue magazine. I fell in love with his work, his artistic way with fabric, color and design. I wanted to wear his clothes but sadly, I'm not rich. Back in 1978, when I was earning my own money the very first perfume I bought for myself was his classic scent, launched in 1971, called Rive Gauche. It's a wonderful fragrance and I've never been without a bottle of it since that first one I purchased.

A few years later I bought his perfume, Opium, launched in 1977. While I so still love the Rive Gauche, this became my absolute favorite perfume. Again, never without a bottle of this stuff. It's the most incredibly spicy yet sexiest perfume I've ever smelled. I wish my whole house could smell like it. I'd just stand around sniffing the air all the time.

While I was in college I religiously bought Vogue magazine every month. At a quick glance I could identify a YSL design, thinking to myself how beautiful they were. I even briefly entertained the idea of being a fashion designer, too. When I attended the Art Institute of Atlanta for the graphic design program I came very close to switching my major to fashion and would sometimes venture down the street from the school to Phipps Plaza to the YSL boutique. I would stand and stare in the window. I don't know why but I could never bring myself to go inside.

Sadly, I've never owned a YSL ladies tuxedo jacket though I've always dreamed of wearing one. I've never carried a YSL purse or worn YSL shoes. My bottles of perfume have been the extent of my ownership of anything bearing that famed YSL name. But that's okay. There's always "some day ....." and I can live with that.

RIP YSL.

Namaste, y'all ...