"Oh, the summer time is coming
And the leaves are sweetly turning
And the wild mountain thyme
Blooms across the purple heather
Will you go, lassie, go?
If you will not go with me
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All across the purple heather"
--The Byrds, "Wild Mountain Thyme"
Honey Water by L'Occitane is gorgeous, liquid, golden, alive with the hazy-baked feel of hot sun and buzzy in the background with obese bumblebees drunk on amber pollen. It's alcohol free and so fine it can be sprayed directly on the face and neck and hair and shoulders when you're hot in your car in L.A. traffic or lying on the beach like an attenuated arm of driftwood, too perfect to move.
Once when I was a kid I fell asleep in the masses of white clover flower in the hayfields that went and went until they met the border of some other farm's fence and there I hallucinated dreadful rainbows in the waves of heat that hovered over the hayfields like silver ovoid UFOs.
My childhood in the seventies means hot summers and lurid color and danger to me, and being in the country means trouble and enough space for the imagination to run wild for better or for worse. A gang of brigands in every midnight floor creak and a world in every fucking flower, I'm telling you.
Just as an orphan in the enormous spaces of her uncle the king's castle will always have room for a world famous fairy tale to unfurl all around her, so the vast boring vacuum of nature was for me. Frankly, what didn't happen to me there? And if it didn't--well, I can always make it up.
Under mats of flower lava, copper chord of August's organ, I heard, I saw, I came, and when I woke up I was here, only this delicious drunken nectar to remind me.
All the real glamour and hippie weirdness of nature are in Honey Water, I swear to motherfucking god, and it's a right bargain at $30.
Link: L'OCCITANE en Provence - Honey Harvest - Gentle Water - Eau de Toilette - Fine Fragrances.
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