Catcalling to Pure Moods

To get further into the '90s revival — not my favorite decade, but it is what's happening — I picked up three classics on CD from a used media store today. The Sign by Ace of Base, the Pretty Woman soundtrack, and the US re-issue of Pure Moods (the new age music compilation).

Still haven't played the Ace of Base one yet, but I immediately put on the Pretty Woman soundtrack while going for an early evening cruise down the main drag through the city. I just picked up the movie on DVD over the weekend, not having seen it since the '90s. The lead track "Wild Women Do" really brings the free-spirited Manic Pixie Dream Girl energy off of the home screen and into the crowded streets. Had to play that one twice!

When that was done, I put in Pure Moods, and almost right away found myself drawn into a catcalling situation. On the other side of the street there was a pack of 8-10 babes all in tight mini-dresses and heels, hair done, ready for girls' night out. Former or current sorority sisters by the look of it, in their early-mid 20s.

Nobody else was even remotely as put-together and traveling in a see-and-be-seen pack. I don't mean dressing with a certain kind of style, I mean any style at all. No alt-girls or art hos in a dress-to-impress pack of their own.

And while they're certainly going to get some looks and signals inside whatever bar or club they were headed to, I had to let them — and everyone else — know that the social-emotional climate has changed from the bygone #MeToo era of 2015-'19. Now that the restless warm-up phase of the 15-year excitement cycle is going, it's time to flirt unapologetically in public again.

With "Return to Innocence" blasting out of the windows, I slowed the car down, turned my head to stare directly out the driver's side, facing them head-on, and let out an OW-OW-OWWWWWW!, holding eye-contact with whoever noticed and reacted fast enough before the car moved past them. They were shocked, for sure, but pleasantly surprised — and also relieved that it was a random hot guy (phew). The tallest one raised her cup all the way in the air, in a salute, and another one catcalled back.

I really was not expecting this situation on a Wednesday night, so I didn't come prepared with typical flirting music, like power-pop. Still, there's something libidinal about "Return to Innocence", as well as Enigma's other hit on the album, "Sadeness". They're from the restless phase of the early '90s, not the vulnerable phase of the late '80s. So they're less calming, spacey, and floaty (e.g. "Orinoco Flow" by Enya from the late '80s).

It's not exactly C+C Music Factory, but the Enigma songs from the early '90s do have a stronger and more danceable beat from the drums, meant to wake you out of bed and get you exercising. And the signature chant from "Return to Innocence" is not sighing and ethereal in the dream-pop style of the late '80s, but more soaring, uplifting, and inspiring.

It doesn't have to be on-the-nose doin'-it music in order to provide the soundtrack for catcalling and flirting. It just has to have an impulse or drive. Also, the themes of innocence and returning to nature and celebrating the primitive or whatever, work better to establish a playful rather than a deadly-serious tone. You're just flirting like all animals do during the mating season, not cornering them and asking for sex like a degenerate.

Plus, how harmful or creepy could your act be when "Return to Innocence" is blasting in the background? It's so sincere and pure — so much so that, if they were art hos, they might suspect you of doing an irony. And even there, the disarming irony would let them know it's only flirting, not an actual pick-up attempt.

The songs on Pure Moods are so eclectic — the original release had Kenny G alongside the score for Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me — that they'll work well for any audience, whether sorority sisters or irony-poisoned art hos. And absolutely no one will be expecting to hear these songs in public, let alone blasting out of a car, so the experience will strike the crowd as simultaneously a familiar fave and a novel deep cut.

Lord knows I've never played these songs like that before, and it was one of the most refreshing and exhilarating experiences, after receiving such a positive response.

* * *

If this had taken place during the vulnerable phase of the cycle, when everyone was in a refractory state, no way I would've felt like doing this in the first place. But even if I had, the girls would've given me disgusted looks, or clammed up in awkwardness, or flipped me off, and the other pedestrians would have speed-dialed a rape crisis hotline. That era is over (until the next vulnerable phase, 2030-'34).

I know most Millennial and Zoomer guys are too porn-addicted to have any libidinal energy left to do these kinds of things for girls, but that should be yet another reason to quit. Partly you're doing it for yourself, to get out some pent-up horniness, but also for the girls themselves.

They're risking the worst humiliation of all — being ignored in public while looking as hot as they can — and it's your duty to give them some validation to reward the risk they're taking. Uphold your end of the implicit social bargain. They provide eye candy — more palpable than the fake simulations on your phone or laptop screen — and will respond favorably to your signals. They get validation, without having to make the first overt move.

It's not a sexual proposition, it's praising them for a successful public presentation — you did it! You're desirable to men! Congrats! And their positive responses are also not a sexual proposition, but expressing their gratitude for you giving them good scores on their performance. It's like when a gymnast salutes and smiles and otherwise shows good-natured respect to the panel of judges who are scoring her routine.

It's no different from a gymcel guy wanting to show off during the summer, and get looks or catcalls from girls, or perhaps the admiration of fellow gym bros. He wants to hear someone randomly shout "Sun's out, guns out!" while passing by. It's a reward for past effort, and motivation to keep those efforts going. Imagine all that effort, and no one gives you an overt signal of recognition. You'd feel gutted, like it's only for yourself, and unless you're a self-lover, you don't care if "Well, at least I think I look good".

When the signals are leering looks and point-blank actual propositions, it's no longer catcalling. It's just being a creep, and girls will reject your offer because you're an undesirable loser. But assuming you have enough social intelligence not to behave that way, you're in the clear, and the girls will not confuse you for a loser with no options who is desperately begging every female he sees for a morsel of muff.

As long as you keep the tone playful rather than serious, what's your excuse? Get out there and start rewarding girls with some catcalls!

"Pills Full of Aimee" (Cornershop parody, Aimee Terese tribute song)

Been in a very uplifting mood lately, and while revisiting some cheerful songs from the late '90s, I felt possessed by the anti-woke left muse, Aimee Terese. I noticed that my Aimee tribute songs are lacking in '90s tunes, which she and many of her fans must cherish as childhood faves. So in the interest of tickling their nostalgia bone...

It's the bouncy, dance-y Fatboy Slim remix of Cornershop's "Brimful of Asha" ('97-'98). Part of the late '60s revival during the late '90s (both were manic phases of the 15-year cultural excitement cycle — see also the Austin Powers phenomenon). We're now at the point of feeling nostalgia for nostalgia.

Original lyrics here. The only pronunciation guide is for her two epithets, which are in Punjabi in the original. Keep the stress pattern in English, though, to make it sound more familiar from the source. They should be stressed: red BULL lay-DEE, our SWEET as-PEE. The first reference is obvious, the second is the name of Apu's gf in the extended Pepe universe, both of whom Aimee has taken to making memes of lately. :)

* * *

Her bantzin' is like cobbee beans
We like her cobbee beans, Red Bull Lady
She's the one that brings our memes to life
And her voice provides relief like heady Lebanese wine

Pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Well it's some pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Well it's some pills full of Aimee on the timeline

Her bantzin' refuels her machine
We fuel her she-machine, our sweet Aspie
She's the one that brings our memes to life
And her voice provides relief like heady Lebanese wine

Pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Well it's some pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Well it's some pills full of Aimee on the timeline

Everybody needs a booba-ful gril, oh
Everybody needs some booba
Everybody needs a booba-ful gril, oh
Everybody needs some booba
Mine's on the timeline

All-seeing, she's hurling deranged tweets
At the journophiles
We don't care about no bluechecks swarming
Or that "owning nothing, you'll be happy" woketard conforming

Pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Well it's some pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Pills full of Aimee on the timeline
Well it's some pills full of Aimee on the timeline

Everybody needs a booba-ful gril, oh
Everybody needs some booba
Everybody needs a booba-ful gril, oh
Everybody needs some booba
Mine's on the timeline

All-seeing and bantzin'
All-seeing and bantzin'
And bantzin' and bantzin'
And bantzin' and bantzin'
My honored autist fren

Death knell of the model phenomenon, as Victoria's Secret ends the Angels

I've been writing about this topic off and on over the past 10 years, but the cultural phenomenon of models has been on the wane at least since the 2000s, perhaps going back to the '90s. The cover girl (or whatever she is in a newer medium than magazines) has steadily become an existing pop culture celebrity, typically an actress or a singer.

It's Cameron Diaz, or Demi Lovato, or Kim Kardashian — as long as it's someone the audience already knows, and already has a solid idea of what their persona or branding is. No mystery allowed. No allure. It can't be someone whose personal details, dating history, bla bla bla, is either secret or just not very interesting.

They must be a fully known quantity, otherwise the audience cannot cosplay as them, or form a parasocial attachment to them. Those goals are too hard to reach when the person you're trying to latch onto is a more shadowy figure. During the outgoing and rising-crime times of the 1960s through the early '90s, people tolerated and even preferred some ambiguity, shadow, and secrecy — all meant to pique your curiosity, and draw you over to them, to investigate.

In the cocooning and falling-crime times since then, a mysterious stranger is a threat, liable to produce anxiety rather than pro-social curiosity in the audience. So, mysterious strangers are out, fully fleshed-out characters are in.

Although they have been an endangered species for the past few decades, models have now become all but extinct, and not just because our first and only model First Lady is no longer in the White House. Victoria's Secret recently announced the end of their Angels program of supermodels. They had been one of the few holdouts for showcasing models rather than actresses, singers, and other non-fashion celebs. Certainly they were the most visible, influential, and enduring of the holdouts.

Really their only competition over the past 20-30 years in the model-spotlighting game was the American Apparel ad campaigns of the late 2000s. But already by the late 2010s, the former hipster audience for American Apparel was more interested in seeing known figures from the media/entertainment sector, such as podcasters, walk the runway and appear in fashion shoots (the Red Scare girls did both).

As an aside, that's why I find Aimee Terese more inspiring as a muse than others from online media / entertainment. She's reluctant to share personal details, she deliberately holds back, and sticks to one type of performer (podcaster and shitposter). It's more like what a model's job used to entail back in the '80s and '90s, creating some mystery, allure, and inviting our curiosity (but not our parasocial obsession about her backstory, character arc, etc.).

She likes being able to provoke and tantalize the audience just a bit, while still being able to slink back into the comfort of her own unrecorded and unbroadcast personal life. This lack of total definition of her persona allows her fans to imagine various forms that they could mold her into (e.g., as the giant neon ad girl from Blade Runner 2049).

By the same token, it allows her sad loser haters to project onto more of a narrative blank slate, conjuring up a spectre to haunt themselves with. It's no different from when detractors of models used to denigrate hot famous girls for whatever they imagined their personal faults were, since models were not fully known quantities and could not instantly and forever defend themselves. But normal people in an audience tend to give attack victims the benefit of the doubt, and dismiss the haters. In this anti-fragile manner, the crazy haters grow the fan-base of their target.

At any rate, with a lag of a few years, the mainstream is now catching up to the avant-garde, and VS will replace models with politically themed pop culture stars. As usual, the mainstream corporate approach is going far more over-the-top than the avant-garde in its wokeness (racial diversity, body size positivity, etc.), since inclusive representation is an ideology meant to distract from the deteriorating standard of living for most people who are not elite.

That's why most of the anti-woke left figures of the past five years have hailed from a peripheral or Bohemian niche of the cultural ecosystem, while woketards are working hand-in-glove with Wall Street banks and the CIA.

At the same time, this ideological spin is also a rationalization for VS. They were bound to kill off their models at some point or another, as the phenomenon has been fading for decades. What particular excuse they needed to do so, would have depended on the exact cultural circumstances. And since wokeness has been amped up over the past 5-10 years, they're running with that as their excuse.

If they had chosen last year to end it, they would've blamed it on coronavirus like every other elite actor. But now that that's winding down, it's back to wokeness. Whatever the excuse, it's good-bye to mysterious cultural figures for good.

Lorde, lesbian PAWG attempting Manic Pixie Dream Girl role in "Solar Power"

The new song and video for "Solar Power" by Lorde ties together so many recurring themes here.



This is a clear attempt at a Manic Pixie Dream Girl role, or an earthly guardian angel (a beachier, "prettier Jesus") who nurses a sad sack back to social-emotional health, in order to help him to fulfill his potential.

These roles appear during the restless warm-up phase of the 15-year cultural excitement cycle, as people are coming out of their refractory states from the previous vulnerable phase of the cycle, and feel like mixing it up again with the opposite sex. The last heyday was 2005-'09, which drew people out of their refractory states from 2000-'04. The most recent vulnerable phase was 2015-'19, and as of last year people are ready to come out and play again.

In this song, though, she's not aiming at a specific sad sack, who's been unlucky in love. It's more about nursing everyone back to health, not just men, and not just in the romantic domain of life. She could easily be encouraging a group of women to find confidence and fulfill their potential. She's a free spirit leading by example.

The earthiness and the dating-and-mating aspect is still there in the double-entendre about "my cheeks in high color / overripe peaches". But it's aimed at a general audience.

And Lorde does check almost all of the boxes of the MPDG type.

Crucially, she's born during a manic phase of the excitement cycle, and was re-born in adolescence during such a phase at age 15. She was born in 1996, during the late '90s manic phase, and turned 15 during the manic phase of the early 2010s.

Manic phase births imprint on a zeitgeist where energy levels have taken off in a spike, which is carefree, invincible, and resilient regarding risk and loss. This gives them a natural attitude of dusting yourself off and trying again, not wallowing in abjection. The last such crop were those born in the early '80s manic phase, who led the MPDG way during the late 2000s restless warm-up phase. (And before them, those born during the late '60s manic phase, who led the way during the early '90s restless phase, such as Julia Roberts and Sarah Jessica Parker.)

You might not have known it — certainly I did not — until this new video and the cover art for the accompanying album, but Lorde has a pronounced hourglass shape. The MPDG is fundamentally a nurturing role, and this is reflected in their hyper-feminine waist-to-hip ratio. Also, they tend to be butt girls rather than boob girls, and Lorde is no exception. This relates to their being corporeal rather than cerebral, as corporeal people are butt people, while cerebral people are boob people. And the MPDG is an earthly nurse, not a cerebral therapist or Socratic tutor.

The one thing that she misses in the MPDG checklist is being heterosexual (as is the norm) or bisexual (a la fellow late '90s birth Rebecca Black in the Manic Pixie-ish "Girlfriend" from earlier this year).

Here is an item from Blind Gossip, whose clues clearly point to Lorde as the lesbian being described ("drama" referring to the title of her then-new album Melodrama, and the related link being about a "Royal" being gay, referring to her breakout hit "Royals"). She got defensive about "What's wrong with lesbians" when questioned by an Australian radio interviewer about her close friendship with (closeted lesbian) Taylor Swift — another dead giveaway, if I had been paying attention back then. Google image search both of their names, and you can see they were very physical and excited to be around each other, even though they seemingly had little in common. Taylor was just hyped up to find another lesbian in the music industry, and a quasi-forbidden 7-years-younger minor at that (no hate, 16/17 and 23/24 is totally natural).

I didn't suspect she was lesbian because lesdar is incredibly hard for outsiders to refine, unlike gaydar, but I should've been tipped off by how mature / old she sounds and presents herself. Lesbians are fundamentally a peri-menopausal group of women, in contrast to gays who are fundamentally a pre-pubescent group of boys ("ewww, girls are yucky"). Lesbians are more likely to be butt girls than boob girls, so that's another match.

When "Royals" came out, she was only 16, but her voice, affect, and the rest all came off as 10 years older. In the new video, she could easily be in her late 30s or 40s, just having a really tight body for her age. It sounds more aimed at an adult contempo audience, who want to rejuvenate their lost or slipping-away youth. When the women are doing the tai-chi inspired poses, I immediately thought of those "yoga your way through menopause, and discover the best you possible" kind of products.

However, this does allow her to target a broad audience, and to talk about more than just dating and mating, as though she were a wise middle-aged hippie, rather than a naive or ditzy youth. So her being a peri-menopausal lesbian works for the song, but does keep it from being a true MPDG role.

* * *

So far I've discussed her persona instead of the music itself, because this is mostly a change-of-character performance from her indie / dark persona. The music is OK, not something I would buy, but not something I would change the station for if it came on the radio. I was never into her earlier stuff either (didn't hate it, though), so this isn't necessarily a backslide for her maturation.

But how does the music embody the larger themes? It's fairly subdued for the most part, with plainspoken vocals, occasional layers of sighs, and sparse instrumentation. In that way, it's like the dream-pop sound typical of the previous vulnerable phase of the cycle, characterized by trance-like droning layers rather than dynamic melodies and riffs. It taps into the late 2010s drowsiness and moodiness that is still a familiar feeling for us, especially her target audience who need encouragement to leave behind their cocoons.

There's hardly any percussion, although the guitar strumming is a bit syncopated, and the pick striking the strings is amplified so heavily that it takes on a percussive timbre, all creating a stirring-awake rhythm. People are just coming out of their cocoons in the early 2020s, not off onto an energy spike just yet. And it builds steadily toward an uplifting choral finale, for when we are finally awake and raring to go.

It sounds nothing like George Michael — I don't know how that became a common take. Everyone in the media today is a failson or faildaughter being propped up by central bank handouts (quantitative easing), so it's no surprise to see them have such an impoverished store of references in memory, that they heard a sparse verse with an acoustic guitar strumming, and instantly went to "Faith".

What does it actually sound like? It does have an early '90s vibe to it, since the 1990-2004 cycle was a low-energy cycle, whereas the cycles before and after it were high-energy (1975-'89, and 2005-'19). Or an early '60s vibe (another low-energy cycle, 1960-'74, before the high-energy one that followed). I can't think of a particular example from the early '90s, though.

However, it otherwise sounds like "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield.



Technically this was released first in 2004 in the UK, where it went nowhere, but really released in '05-'06 in the US, where it was one of the biggest songs of 2006 and cemented her fame here. "Unwritten" is a bit faster and groovier, but is still very sparse in instrumentation, features a simple acoustic rhythm guitar in the verse, and has minimal percussion (mainly a muted bass drum, akin to the bass guitar in "Solar Power").

The vocals in the verse are fairly plainspoken, occasional sighs for layering, but it gradually builds toward an uplifting choral finale, which is in a Christian gospel style — not unlike the New Age-y religious chant of "solar power" in the Lorde song.

Thematically, it's another anthem about finding confidence, not letting the past weigh you down, and turning over a new leaf, ready to fulfill your potential. The running metaphor is writing, and the initial state she's in is having writer's block, like a sad sack from an MPDG movie who starts off stuck in a rut, at an impasse in life. Totally in touch with the zeitgeist of shifting out of the early 2000s refractory state and into the restless warm-up phase of the late 2000s.

And just like Lorde, Bedingfield was born during a manic phase (the early '80s, along with the MPDG actresses from that same late 2000s era). Judging from her other music videos (like "These Words"), she looks like more of a butt girl than a boob girl, and styled as a free-spirited gypsy. Unlike Lorde, she seems pretty heterosexual, full of youthful energy and libido, and not like a middle-aged mentor (however funky they may be).

Both songs are less about the music per se, and more about channeling the zeitgeist, and spurring forward the social-emotional changes under way between the vulnerable and restless phases of the excitement cycle. They're more cultural than aesthetic, but no less important for that.

Flirting in public continues to resume, but muted by masks

Two high school girls cornered me in a supermarket yesterday to say, "I really like your shirrrt..."

For the record, the same shirt that an alt girl complemented me on when I flirted with her at a thrift store, as related in this recent post on the resumption of flirting in public with the beginning of the restless warm-up phase of the 15-year excitement cycle.

It's an edgy B+W graphic tee with lots of areas of contrast (same principle as a checker-board pattern), with the background being black. And yesterday I was wearing white pants, and black shoes. So, reviving the B+W craze that's typical during a restless warm-up phase -- very big in the late 2000s, but also the early '90s, and the late '70s (second wave ska, Parallel Lines cover by Blondie, etc.).

I think the "alt" look of 2019-'20 is pretty much dead by now, sadly. Like the attempt to revive the scene queen maximalist look of the late 2000s, or the anime / cosplay influence from the 2010s. The 2005-2019 cycle was a high-energy cycle, and this new cycle is going to be a less-intense one, similar to the 1990-2004 cycle (they alternate).

But the all-black-and-white thing is still going. I saw a trio of alt girls in a different supermarket the other week, each one wearing only B+W.

And one of the girls yesterday was wearing high-waisted shorts with a B+W piebald cow pattern. Something I don't think I've seen before -- zebra, cheetah, etc., yes, but not cows.

OMG -- it was like the Gateway computer logo from the '90s! And the cover of the early '90s Aerosmith album Get a Grip. Talk about convergent evolution... similar zeitgeists hit on similar outcomes, without conscious imitation. Random / wacky patterns are going to come back.

Anyway, it's too bad that the two teens were wearing masks, since I pretty much ignore those people by now. It feels really anti-social, when the tide has shifted so much against masks. But maybe they're just doing what their parents tell them, or they haven't gotten vaxxed yet (thank God, they don't need it), or whatever.

They must have been eying me for awhile, since we were headed toward each other for at least 50 feet with no one in between us. Then right as I was about to turn away from them, they made their move and said their words -- but muffled through the masks, and with their facial expressions hidden behind the masks.

It really didn't hit as hard as the typical unsolicited flirtation from teens usually hits. I barely had enough time to process it, from the masks muting their signal. I was already turning away, and turned my head back around to say thanks to them, before parting ways.

Imagine if I were also wearing a mask -- this whole charade has totally warped the social development of young people, hopefully not for life. But the longer they delay the total eradication of COVID security theater, the less likely they'll be to reach a healthy recovery.

Aimee Terese, perfume muse (and the decline of fragrance during the 2010s)

I've been looking back on the recent history of perfumes and colognes, to see if there's confirmation for the broader pattern of cultural stagnation and decline after circa 2010. Related to this post on the death of the fashion industry during that time. It's hard to remember the last time there was a major popular awareness, let alone irresistible buzz, about fragrances.

That's true even of their ads, once a mainstay of "have you seen it?" cultural excitement. I remember Keira Knightley in the bowler hat for Chanel, along with her appearance with ScarJo and Tom Ford on the cover of Vanity Fair, way back in 2006. Ford was primarily a fashion figure, but had also gotten involved in fragrances, and it just looked like a perfume ad — heavily stylized, dramatic poses, and the female nudity. It was iconic enough to provoke parodies — similar to the parodies of the equally iconic Calvin Klein TV ads in the '90s — and when was the last time anything perfume-related has accomplished that level of cultural awareness?

In any case, some of the big trends of the 2000s reminded me immediately of Aimee Terese. "That's such a MENA baddie scent!" The heavy, dark, masculine aspect combined with a lighter, brighter, feminine nature. The in-your-face extraverted sillage. The tenacious longevity. Just an all-around libidinal, heady, and intoxicating experience.

It was an abrupt departure from the usual low-energy, reserved, tranquil scents of the aquatic-to-spicy Nineties. And, since mainstream participation in the fragrance culture seems to have totally collapsed during the 2010s, that was the last time we'll ever know of women confidently announcing their presence in public so sensually yet tactfully, when every other 20 to 30-something urbanite woman was an edgy minimalist fun-loving badass chick.

On a hunch, I checked to see if Aimee had appeared on the Perfume Nationalist podcast, and why of course she had. Naturally she said she disliked the fruity, floral, sweet, overly feminine stuff, preferring the heavy and heady scents instead. (Note to her suitors: send gardenias, not roses.) Anna Khachiyan made similar remarks in her appearance on the show.

As an aside, this is yet another reason why passionate women find liberal soyboys unappealing as dates and mates. How can they enjoy wearing their favorite perfume, if the reaction is going to be about having allergies, or sensory overload of their autism? Recall that infamous DSA conference not only had a rule against loud noises, but also against strong or aggressive scents — flagrant anti-MENA discrimination from the professed allies of the Palestinians and Iranians.

Nope, if intense women want to find a man who can handle their intensity, he'll have to be a cultural moderate or conservative. Not some flinch-nerd who's going to suffer an anxiety attack if she smells like anything other than the interior of an Apple Store.

* * *

What particular examples do I have in mind? I'm not a frag-head, but here are a few I know of.

Scent Intense by Costume National (2002). The only one I own myself, it's listed as unisex but is more on the masculine side, and suitable only for the baddie crew among women, as well as men with a strong romantic streak.

I have the same bottle from when it came out while I was in college. I had to travel to the Barneys CO-OP outside of Boston (the Mall at Chestnut Hill), first by express bus for an hour, then a 30-minute metro ride, and finally walking for 15-30 minutes. Quite the excursion for a fragrance, but I wanted it bad, and didn't want to have to wait until my next day-trip to New York. (Costume National has a boutique on Wooster St. in SoHo if you're nearby.)

But still, that gave me a greater experience than just placing an order online and opening a package left on the doorstep. It was a journey, a commitment.

For Her by Narciso Rodriguez (2004). I never toured the women's fragrance sections, but could not avoid this one when it debuted. During the summer of 2004 in Barcelona, I always walked through the El Corte Ingles department store downtown, to catch a break from the heat and humidity. Knowing this behavior of the pedestrians, the store put in place an entire gauntlet of displays and models who were all but pulling you into their personal space to smell the test strips.

Mediterranean babes offering a heady, dark, intense aroma to test out? Hmmm, yes, I think I can stop by for awhile and chat them up about what ingredients are in it, what kind of woman I might buy it for, etc. Come to think of it, the last time I was stopped by a perfume babe standing in a heavy-traffic path inside a department store was the summer of 2013 — more confirmation that fragrance culture died out during the 2010s.

Black Orchid by Tom Ford (2006). I haven't actually smelled this one, but it sounds like a fellow traveler of the others. And in college, I did used to have a deodorant stick of the newly released M7 by YSL, which Ford was in creative control of at the time, so I trust his judgment in making an equally heady-and-heavy scent for women. Unlike the others in this trend, though, there's a cornucopia of ingredients, more of an homage to the symphonic arrangements of the 1980s than the minimalist 2000s.

* * *

I was trying to think of what celebs would've been most likely to wear these scents, but came up empty-handed. The main examples did not use them in their ads — just the anonymous and alluring fashion models, who have been steadily replaced by actresses, singers, and other celebs as fashion figures.

The typical wearer was also a type that hardly exists anymore — they were not girlboss careerists choosing a perfume as though it were a weapon for battle, nor were they hipsters who would've found perfume categorically pretentious and unsuitable to ironic usage. Not pop culture strivers / junkies either, a type that didn't really exist back then.

They were urbanite professionals who were not yuppies — those whose primary interest was in living an exciting lifestyle, creating a mysterious persona, and so on. Working to live, not living to work. Their job — not even necessarily in a very creative field — was just a means of paying for parties, drinks, clothes, perfumes, and the rest of the good life.

So, she was akin to a hipster, but not part of an identifiable sub-culture. She could have been the only woman in her social circle who dressed that way and wore that kind of perfume. A cultural lone wolf (or rather she-wolf, as MENA baddie Shakira would popularize in 2008 with her sleek and sensual disco-rock song of that name).

However, the American-led economy blew up for good in 2008, with the top 20% only prospering thereafter from central bank bailouts (quantitative easing). Elite over-production kicked into hyperdrive, and then there was no more "work to live" spirit left. The economy, and with it the rest of the culture, became palpably more and more fake over the 2010s, whereas the free-wheeling spirit of the mid-to-late 2000s could not have thrived under such conditions of nihilism and cynicism.

And again, these new attitudes are not just a psychological problem that may be undone, but the inevitable consequence of the entire economy becoming openly, unmistakably fake. The QE handout recipients of the 2010s through today can only feel like spoiled rich kids who don't deserve their wealth, and are just getting paid to party. That's more of a degenerate socialite's situation, not the "work to live" professional whose mind was not weighed down by unavoidable doubts of being an over-glorified welfare queen.

In fact, independence and confidence were central to their lifestyle, and once the economy blew up, they began obsessing over their basic material security. "Is the next QE check from the central bank going to clear this month?" "Does my new boss have a line of credit with the central bank, or are we going to go under without getting bailed out?" This ceaseless anxiety is also that of the degenerate socialite, who has to worry each time they run their daddy's credit card — have they been put in financial time-out this weekend, or cut off altogether?

Professional gals of the 2000s did not have these ongoing anxiety attacks, and could enjoy their "work to live" lifestyle in blissful ignorance of what was to come during the next decade.

The difficulty of fine-tuning lesdar (vs. gaydar) from IRL observations

First time a lesbian has followed me around a thrift store yesterday. Although with all the talk about disappearing lesbians and rise of "non-binary" types who are clearly female, maybe she was one of those.

Somewhat taller than average for a girl, early-mid 20s, cute face, flawless pale olive skin, boyishly short side-parted hairstyle from circa 1990 (NOT a gay whoosh) but with the back and sides shaved close, brunette, small boobs, thin but athletic (visible abs), midriff-baring tank top, khaki shorts just above the knee, forgot the shoes, some kind of glasses too.

She was there with another girl, who had a fashion mullet, and who I assumed were a lesbian couple out thrifting. Toward the end, I saw them both debating which woodcraft items they were going to buy to decorate their groyperesque, uh, I mean cottagecore home.

But for awhile there, the mullet one was off browsing t-shirts, and the tomboy one was clearly trailing me and trying to get me to notice her. I don't think a lesbian has ever had a clear case of the hots for me, unlike the other girls there, so maybe she was just "lesbian presenting" but actually a straight or bi girl with an edgy aesthetic.

Or she was one of the rare surviving lesbians, but was not trying to get my attention sexually. Maybe she saw someone with a cool edgy look, and wanted a fellow cool person to acknowledge her own coolness. Seeking validation as girls do, but not for their body.

However, the confusion of her signals left me wondering what she really was and what her motivation was, so I didn't actually smile at her, talk shop about thrifting, or anything like that. Perhaps for the better, as I would've inevitably asked, "So... are you a lesbian or what?"

It can be hard to tell who's lesbian and who's a low-body-count straight girl. Both have amazing skin (lack of pollution from all those different partners' germs, or whatever). Both are adorably bashful. Both dress more comfortably and sometimes alt, but in that '90s slacker way rather than the flamboyant late 2000s scene queen way.

No more exciting of a conclusion than that. More of a case study of how lesbians don't always jump out of the background, unlike gays who are always flamingly obvious (whether they're "out" or not). Fine-tuning your lesdar is way more difficult than gaydar.

And a reminder that if you're basing your intuitions about lesbians from the ones you can easily detect, you're forming a biased view since most lesbians try not to stand out in a crowd, let alone flaunt their non-hetero sexuality. Those are either the butch dyke types, or the off-the-wall bisexual types.

To get a better understanding of lesbians, you really do have to go straight to the source and listen to a variety of them, none of whom would be identifiably lesbian out in the wild. Contrast that with gays, who you can easily identify in public and just observe their mannerisms etc. to see what they're like.

Lesbian normality vs. fag-hag abnormality, further details and cases

Continuing the theme of the last post, here's PAWG-alicious lesbian Dua Lipa straddling the border between gay and lesbo culture, as usual, in the newest video for "Love Again":



On the one hand, it's a disco sound (required of the restless warm-up phase of the excitement cycle, beginning in 2020), she's wearing a cowboy hat, and there are Village People inspired back-up dancers.

On the other hand, she's got modest boobs and a thicc ass, is comfortable in her body to the point of exuding sex appeal and charisma (one of the few lesbians who gets straight guys horned up), not some type of neurotic body dysmorphia (super-skinny or mega-fattie). She's not a notorious fag-hag, despite making danceclub music.

Related: she's the only member of the Albo mafia to not bleach her dark eastern Mediterranean tresses. That's comfort in her body-as-it-is, knowing it's hotter than bleaching -- which is more of a gay or fag-hag thing.

Gay guys bleach their hair or frost their tips (part of their broader syndrome of body dysmorphia, which they share with their fag-hag BFFs), whereas lesbians do not.

Fag hags like Madonna, Britney Spears, Lady Gaga, et al. are much more likely to lighten their hair, even if they're already dark-blonde (like Christina Aguilera going platinum blonde).

Isn't Dasha from the Red Scare podcast a natural brunette? But no blonde dye job for fellow anti-woke left brunette Slav, Heather Habsburg -- who is a lesbian! Hehe.

Aging-but-trying-to-stay-young women also lighten their hair, another typical fag-hag demo who are, typically, looking to avoid the straight male gaze that would remind them of their sub-ideal attractiveness level (due to aging). Lesbians are peri-menopausal, hence "aging" in some sense, but fine with it and not desperately trying to reverse it.

Lightening your hair is one of those girls-vs.-other-girls contests, like getting an eating disorder or spending big bucks on high-heeled shoes -- not an attracting-mates behavior.

Lesbians may have a somewhat catty personality, like all women, but they don't go off the deep end with those competing-against-other-women contests. All part of lesbians being peri-menopausal (the opposite of neotenous gays), when you're done competing and are settling into a grandmotherly serene stage of life.

Less careerist, more slacker or blue-collar (at least in affectation). Healthy weight, natural hair, natural hair elsewhere too for that matter, sensible / practical footwear (could be pretty or stylish, but not high-fashion)...

NO FAKE TITS, how could I forget that one? Boob jobs are not meant to attract mates, since it only targets boob men, and even they don't like the rock-hard fake bolt-ons IRL. It's used in women's pecking-order games of who has the biggest cup size. Notice women don't compete over who has the most thicc and juicy ass -- that's for attracting mates, just like the primate gods intended!

Lesbians continue to be the pleasant surprise among the non-hetero population, and naturally the least promoted by the LGBTQCIA mafia during Pride Month, the parades, and the rest of the normalizing-abnormality spectacle.

Why are fag hags never PAWGs, but only super-skinnies or mega-fatties?

An old post looked at the main reason why women become fag hags — to adopt a surrogate child, when they are unable to find a man to give them a baby for real. Gays are neotenous or pedomorphic, meaning they resemble pre-pubescent boys, both physically and especially psychologically ("ewww, girls are yucky"). Lesbians are the other way around, resembling peri-menopausal women, and are therefore more mature physically and psychologically. So if a woman wants to adopt a child-like creature (other than a pet), she cannot befriend lesbians, but only gays.

Having said that, there are other secondary reasons that some women prefer the company of gays over straight guys. One pattern that just struck me is that you only ever see and hear about fag hags who are on either extreme of the BMI spectrum — super-skinnies or mega-fatties. Normal weight, thicc, curvaceous PAWGs are just never going to restrict their male acquaintances to gays only. They're perfectly fine interacting with straight guys.

What explains this bimodal distribution of fag hags by body type? Well, they're the farthest away from the ideal female body type in the eyes of the only group who gets to determine that standard — straight guys, especially the hot ones — whereas PAWGs are smack dab in the ideal shape range.

That suggests that another key reason why women avoid straight guys and prefer gay friends is that they do not want to be reminded of their less-than-ideal shape. Gays do not want their body, or any other woman's body, so they will never send a positive or negative signal about her physical desirability. Straight guys, on the other hand, will frequently give off signals, however involuntary and subtle (or not, as the case may be), reacting to the woman's shape.

Over time, the super-skinnies will develop an implicit understanding that their straight guy friends and acquaintances don't find them to be the ideal shape. Indeed, if the guys comment openly at all, it will be to the effect of, "You could be so hot if you'd just put on 20 pounds and really fill out your jeans" (suicide material for the thinspo crowd).

Ditto for the mega-fatties, who probably already know they're not ideal, but still do not want to be reminded all the time that straight guys don't react to them in a horned-up way. They too do not want to hear the occasional comment about changing their shape: "You could be so hot if you'd just lose 40 pounds" (an indignation for women who want to shove carbs in their face all day every day).

And so, the only way to avoid these negative reminders of their not-very-ideal shape is to eschew the company of straight guys to the greatest extent possible, and rely on gays if they must associate with the opposite sex.

Thicc girls with hourglass figures would never receive such negative feedback about their shape, so they're perfectly fine with hanging around straight guys. Not necessarily the "I can only be friends with guys, not other girls" type, just that they have no problem associating with us.

Some of them may enjoy the positive feedback, and prefer being in our company as often as possible. Others may be more shy about all the drooling tongues they're going to provoke, and try to cover up their shape — but even these ones will not feel bitter or resentful toward straight guys, so they will not seek the comforting social rescue of a fully gay circle of friends, like the fag hag coping mechanism.

And of course, not all of the super-skinnies and mega-fatties become fag hags. Some of them are humble and accepting of reality, and don't mind the constant reminders from straight guy friends that they could be so much hotter if only they'd radically alter their shape. What I'm saying is that these not-ideal types are clearly more driven to become fag hags, so they will make up the vast majority of them.

This explains why some types of girls, who you would expect to be very gay-friendly, wind up not having many gays in their circle. Pornstars and strippers are part of a broader group of people who are sexually permissive and/or deviant, including gays. And yet they don't really associate with each other because those girls are more of the ideally sexy body shape.

Then there are the lesbians, who are more likely to be normal weight, even PAWGs, than anorexic or morbidly obese. And they famously cannot stand being around gays for very long (and vice versa). They don't mind hanging around straight guys, though, which again is not to say they prefer us as friends. Just that they don't feel the repulsion and urge to withdraw from us, out of existential dread about their shape. You'd think if any group of women would be repulsed by straight guys, it would be lesbians, but it's actually the super-skinny and mega-fattie straight girls who are.

Is this internalized homophobia ripping apart the "LGBTQ community"? No, it's just lesbians feeling more secure about their body shape, compared to anorexic or obese straight women, and not needing to flee into the non-judgmental arms of gay guys. And lesbians are not more secure about their bodies for delusional reasons — they actually are closer to the ideal female body shape than are the super-skinnies or mega-fatties.

Nor is this due to lesbians not needing some kind of male approval. If they felt like avoiding those who might remind them of their lack of physical desirability, they would avoid their fellow lesbians! Lesbians, not just straight guys, are judges of the ideal female shape, and they're the only such judges that a lesbian would actually feel stung by if treated as not-so-ideal physically.

If a lesbian truly felt the same need to protect her ego regarding body shape as super-skinny and mega-fattie straight girls, she would befriend straight women. None of them would be attracted to the lesbian, and therefore would not give off good or bad feedback about her sexual desirability.

Lesbians seeking ego protection about sexual desirability would never hang out with female-attracted people — other lesbians, or straight guys — and yet they do. Some even prefer those two groups for their social circle.

Conclusion: lesbians are not hung up about their body shape, probably because it's not the polar opposite of ideal in either direction. And sure enough, they're more of the corporeal butt girl type, less so the cerebral boob girl type (just the way hot straight guys like 'em).