feral & in bloom

hello.

lately i’ve been thinking about spring.

not the curated version tied up with pastel ribbons and cadbury chocolates, but rather, the liminal, uneven season where things grow in the wrong direction before they find their shape. the kind of blooming that’s not always beautiful or linear. sometimes it’s quiet. sometimes it’s lonely. sometimes it just looks like rearranging your room and crying without knowing why.

spring never felt like a clean slate to me. it feels like a soft shift. a loosening and undoing. like something inside of me is trying to become something else, even if it doesn’t know what yet. it’s not a grand transformation. it’s small rituals, new thoughts, slightly different days. a slow thaw.

i’ve been trying to lean into that feeling instead of rushing past it to try and make everything clear and bright and certain. i’ve been letting the fog linger a little and allowing life to feel unfinished. reflecting on that space. on softness and solitude and the rituals that make the not knowing a little more bearable.

if you’ve been feeling restless or raw or a little in between this season, maybe this letter will feel like a place to land where something quiet is still allowed to grow.

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romanticizing being alone

there’s something lovely about solitude when it’s not framed as a defeat. when it’s chosen and it becomes a way of paying attention. being alone doesn’t mean something is missing. sometimes it just means you’re giving yourself the kind of tenderness and the space you usually reserve for other people.

i like sitting in cafes with a good book and something warm. i like wandering through bookstores with no agenda. i like dressing up (or down) for no reason and taking myself outside. it doesn’t feel empty. it feels deliberate. like i’m making space instead of trying to fill it. and when i do that, the ache of loneliness starts to turn into something gentler. it starts to feel like i’m mothering my inner child.

i need to be careful with this one because as in introvert, choosing to be alone can feel a bit enabling. but we’re also facing a loneliness epidemic, and even this introvert gets lonely sometimes.

journaling as ritual

my journal isn’t beautiful or aesthetic. it’s messy, personal and half-legible, full of crossed out lines and half-thoughts. but it’s where i go to meet myself. it’s the only place where i don’t feel the need to be understood. i just let the words be strange and contradictory and unfinished. i don’t edit. i don’t perform clarity. i just write until i feel like i’m no longer spinning.

it isn’t about growth. it isn’t even about answers. it’s about sitting with myself in a way that feels real. and sometimes that’s enough.

i hesitate to talk about journaling at all because lately the concept of journaling has felt quite performative in the world of social media.

tea and scent layering

lately i’ve been pairing my teas with my perfumes. jasmine with something smoky. citrus with white tea. oolong with anything that smells like skin. not because it makes sense. it just feels like building a language no one else speaks. something small and private that makes the day feel more textured.

this kind of ritual doesn’t fix anything. but it reminds me that beauty is still allowed to exist quietly. i can create something soft even when everything else feels uncertain. even if it’s just a cup of tea that smells like spring.

museums

i love walking through museums alone. not to learn necessarily. not to take anything in intellectually. just to feel quiet. there’s something sacred about standing in front of a painting that was made by someone who had no idea if anyone would care about it. there’s comfort being surrounded by beauty that doesn’t ask anything of you.

i don’t always understand what i’m looking at. i don’t need to. it’s enough to let it move me and let myself be still and small and present.

picnics

in spring, i always start craving picnics. not the big curated kind. just the simple version. a thermos of tea and a slice of cake and a patch of grass. something small and slow that doesn’t need to be shared or posted or turned into a memory.

picnics remind me that pleasure can be ordinary. it can just be a quiet afternoon with the sun on your skin and crumbs in your lap. it can just be yours.

films

daisies (1966) two girls embrace chaos and ruin everything in the most beautiful way. it’s decadent, defiant, and completely unserious. a perfect film for when you’re craving rebellion dressed in ribbons.

donkey skin (1970) a princess runs away from a royal proposal that should never have been made and hides herself in filth and ash. this is a fairy tale told in velvet and glitter, but there’s something dark humming beneath the surface. jacques demy gives us a pastel dream layered with unsettling undertones. catherine deneuve wears gowns made of moonlight and stars, but the story is about survival, not sparkle. it’s tender, strange, theatrical, and just a little grotesque in the way all good fairy tales are.

picnic at hanging rock (1975) haunting and sunlit. girls vanish into nature and leave behind only mystery. it’s about longing, repression, and the eerie softness of disappearing.

tinkerbell (2008) a cozy film about being misunderstood and finding purpose anyway. tinkerbell doesn’t fit in right away, but she makes things and she keeps going and eventually she finds her way. this one feels like spring.

atonement (2007) lush and devastating. a story about misinterpretation, time, and consequences. everything is hot, heavy, and aching. a film to watch when you want to feel wrecked in a beautiful way.

marie antoinette (2006) soft color and quiet despair. a girl wrapped in luxury and loneliness. a story about how indulgence sometimes becomes its own form of escape.

bridgerton (all seasons) a romantic fantasy where every glance is loaded and every emotion is dressed in lace. it’s dramatic, silly, and deeply satisfying when you want to feel swept away.

alice in wonderland (1951) dreamlike and disorienting. alice asks too many questions and never gets a straight answer. a girlhood story about trying to make sense of a world that refuses to.

a tale of springtime (1990) understated and thoughtful. full of tension that never fully resolves. conversations circle around meaning without ever arriving. perfect for days that feel just slightly off.

le bonheur (1965) all sunshine and flowers until it isn’t. looks like joy, tastes like grief. it’s a quiet warning hidden inside a beautiful image.

books

the days of abandonment by elena ferrante a woman is left by her husband and her whole world crumbles. this book doesn’t flinch. it’s messy, raw, and deeply human. it’s about rage, collapse, and the long, painful work of rebuilding yourself.

the vet’s daughter by barbara comyns a strange, dreamy novel about a girl trapped in a violent home who begins to develop an eerie power. sad, surreal, and unexpectedly tender. like reading a nightmare you sort of want to stay in.

the hélène cixous reader edited by susan sellers cixous writes like no one else. she doesn’t try to make sense. she writes from the body, from myth, from feeling. this collection is a good way to begin. it’s not neat. it’s not meant to be. it’s meant to move you.

lolly willowes by sylvia townsend warner a woman decides not to live the life that was expected of her. she leaves everything and becomes something quieter, stranger, freer. it’s a witch story, but softly. no spectacle. just one woman choosing herself.

the lost estate by henri alain-fournier a boy finds something magical and spends the rest of his life chasing it. this is a book about memory and longing. it feels like summer that never quite happened, a dream you keep hoping will return.

memoirs of a dutiful daughter by simone de beauvoir she traces her early life and the slow process of becoming a thinker. it’s not dramatic. it’s precise and thoughtful. you can feel her mind taking shape as you read.

dialogues concerning natural religion by david hume a philosophical conversation between three people with wildly different beliefs. no answers. just sharp questions and careful logic. perfect for sitting in uncertainty and calling it contemplation.

as someone who typically reads philosophy and classic literature, i’ve been trying to branch out and read other genres in tandem with heavier texts. lit fic and fantasy are two literary worlds i’m trying to get into, so if you have any good recommendations that don’t involve acotar or smutty ya, please let me know.

having a fragrance crush

sometimes a perfume haunts me in the best way. i’ll smell it once and then think about it for days. i’ll look up the notes, imagine the kind of person who wears it, picture the world it belongs to. i don’t always buy it right away. sometimes i just want to fall in love with the idea of it and dream about it.

i test it. i wear it on my wrist. sometimes i’ll spray my sweater and let it linger into the next day. i’ll get my hands on a sample or two. i let it fade and return and change. i like when perfume becomes a quiet companion. something that lingers on your shirt or your pillowcase. something that reminds you of who you were on the day you first wore it. not just a scent, but a memory in progress.

let me tell you about some fragrances that i have developed massive crushes on…

fragrances

little flower by régime des fleurs: this is my number one girl right here!! i think i’m in my rose era so bear with me… regime des fleurs can do no wrong and i’ve avoided this fragrance for awhile because i didn’t think rose smelled good on my skin, with the exception of portrait of a lady (the most sensual seductive compliment getting fragrance to ever exist).

little flower smells like overgrown roses, black tea, palo santo, and soft skin. like someone who keeps secrets. delicate and strange. it doesn’t bloom all at once. it lingers and unfolds. the iconic chloe sevigny collaborated with alia on this scent, which makes it that much more special and sought after in my book. this scent is dreamy, addictive, unique and it makes me feel like an ethereal fairy princess.

manakara by indult: rose and lychee with no sharpness. like custard, fruit skin, and the scent of your lovers neck. sweet but never sugary. romantic and soft in a way that feels physical. major compliment getter, like a sugar plum fairy who wandered into a secret garden to have rose tea and sweet treats.

odette by gumamina: grapefruit soda, rhubarb, and tonka. fizzy, powdery, and a little off-center. like waking up in a life you don’t quite recognize but want to stay in. playful and wistful at once. this is a collaboration between the iconic duo: courtney rafuse and marissa zappas.

lira by xerjoff: warm vanilla, caramel, and citrus. indulgent and cozy. smells like baking something sweet when you feel a little lost. nostalgic in a very intimate way. it reminds me of a freshly baked lemon loaf cake that you just took out of the oven, soft, golden, fragrant and drizzled with a vanilla bean glaze.

jasmine tea by one day: clean and calm. smells like warm laundry, wet leaves, and quiet mornings. grounding and subtle. a scent for when you want to disappear gently into the day. this has been on my wishlist for almost two years and i always find myself craving this during the spring and summer months.

eau rose edp by diptyque: another sleeper diptyque scent for me. recently i went to a nursery to admire all of the roses that had recently bloomed and i found myself ravenously hungry for florals and scents that made me feel connected to the seasons. i ended up taking home a small bouquet of the most beautiful billowing buttercream yellow roses that filled my room with a scent i couldn’t get enough of.

this fragrance has notes of rose, chamomile, lychee, artichoke. tender and quietly unexpected. like walking through a sunlit garden with someone you once loved. contemplative and intimate like the smell of skin still warm from the afternoon. it’s slightly jammy from the lychee while also feeling airy and green from the chamomile and artichoke. she’s less dessert, more poetic and that’s what makes her perfect.

okay, that’s all for today.

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i love you.

bye.

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