Here’s a little thing I wrote back sometime back. As the year rolls to the end, I considered writing a year-end retrospective but decided not to. Instead, here’s a little moment from a random day in the past year that was particularly delightful that I decided I had to record. Enjoy.

May 18th, 2019.

When the world becomes difficult to deal with, I find respite from being surrounded by beautiful things. The thing about objects is that unlike loved ones, friends, plants or pets, they require nothing of you. Their sole purpose is to be enjoyed, to bring a little delight to you.

Right now I am lounging by the diaphonous leaves of a tall Pachira on my desk, watching the evening light filter through its petal-like palmate leaves. It was the first potted plant I bought myself when I first moved into this apartment a year ago. the older man who sold it to me had warned me to exercise ‘benign neglect’, citing overzealous watering as a culprit for the death of many houseplants, “look at how many overfed cats and dogs that are out there… you people don’t know”

I allow my gaze to leisurely browse the titles of a small mountain of books from a chance encounter with a secondhand bookstore off Lexington Ave and 47th Street. I pick a small novel up – the uneven, serrated edges of its yellowing pages are satisfying to the touch. The books smell of my primary school library, a recess-time refuge during my younger days.

Littered around are folded pieces of smooth ivory note paper covered with dark, cursive handwriting. I usually write in a journal, but there are moments that occasion for loose sheets for quick note-taking. I write with a fountain pen, a sleek vintage Parker 51 with a forest green barrel from my father, a fountain pen afficionado.

I’ve also been toying with the idea of scenting letters. A little further up ahead stands a bottle of discontinued perfume I gleaned off eBay. I had first smelled it years ago from a tiny sample vial and recoiled – it was a green, banana leaf-like opening that sat upon a base of creamy sandalwood. it’s a jarring combination for sure but had somehow made its way to the forefront of my memory in recent weeks and I just had to smell it again. It sits half-nestled in its box, amber liquid glowing. The box is enjoyable in its own right too – dark and decorated with delicate golden etchings of feather-like detail.

I still love perfume – it continues to be one of the ways to ensconse myself in a fantasy. I wrote a 6-piece series of articles about my personal experience with scent. Re-reading the last piece I wrote from 3 years ago made me realize that my attitude has subtly shifted. I still do not believe in holding on to perfume that you no longer enjoy, but I have also come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to have keepsakes. I miss the bottle of Lavandula that was the first perfume I bought myself. It had scented a specific era of my life that I now look back and think of as painful, but I wish I had a way to smell it again, just as a reference point.

I still have with me bottles of perfume from my the past two years which have slowed in usage, but having them around remind me of those times when I could treat myself to a fragrant luxury. I have on Iris Poudre at this moment – it reminds me of the first time I wore it, walking down form my apartment in Singapore to the MRT station feeling quite elegant, a luxury for this woman in the humid heat.

a coffee table strewn with books, papers, a bottle of perfume and a small houseplant

Happy New Year, my friends.