Belgium’s hard lockdown means that crossing the country’s borders is basically impossible. Therefore imagine my delight when Brad Pitt flew over to Brussels this Monday to “support his artist friend”. I appreciate creativity whenever I see any, and Pitt’s excuse for a clandestine Easter city-break holds the top spot (it’s a tough contest, though). (Whether I’m Pitt’s artist friend you’ll never know.)
It’s no coincidence that the blog was silent in March par for one update. T.S. Eliot claims April is the cruelest month, but for me it has to be March. Life in a Cold Climate wrote yesterday that she’d had procrastinated for weeks to write something feminist. I’ve had exactly the same thoughts.
Not only is March “Women’s History Month”, it also features the International Women’s Day. In Finland the equality day is celebrated on the 19th. The aforementioned bring all kinds of amateurs and virtue signallers to the yard, and I cannot cope with that. So I decided to stew in my personal Weltschmerz for a bit instead of lashing out my hasty opinions on innocent people.
I’m done now (I’m not), so the blog shall continue to be updated more regularly. It’s unbelievably April already, and everything is the same as in April 2020 except people no longer freak out about toilet paper. I took a year off working life, and have absolutely nothing to show for it except maybe this life-hack: do not go for a short haircut at any stage of a global pandemic. It will not be “over” after four week’s lockdown. The hairdressers will not be able to open “permanently” even when the government say they can.
Do not have short hair during a pandemic. Any attempts to disguise an overgrown pixie are doomed to fail. You will not be vibing Frida Kahlo in a scarf tied around your head. You will look like Pumuckel on video calls whatever gimmicks you try to pull. Your asshole hair will make your life miserable, which it currently is anyway.
I’ve also slowly learned to take care of my hands. Not spontaneously, mind, but the daily, multiple dousing of hands in alcohol started to have dramatic consequences. I’m notoriously bad at moisturising my hands, and had to resort to the classic trick of buying fancy merchandise in order to keep up my interest. So far the best results come from mixing oil with cream, and I’m using the evening primrose combo by Weleda. This is best applied in the evenings.
Zelens is fancy and very rich, but absorbs well, leaves hands feeling very pleasant for a surprisingly long time, and has the trademark Zelens-scent. Margaret Dabbs SPF spray for hands is transparent and absorbs quickly, but frankly I’d rather have a good hand cream with a proper SPF to have two jobs done at once.
Repeat organic hand sanitiser is a Dutch product that I’ve become rather a fan of – it’s a clear cleansing spray that makes my hands smell of gin & tonic. Leaves no sticky residue.
Cuticle oil by Kure falls in the category of “felt like a good idea at the time of purchase” and then ends up being something I never really get round to using. I mean, cuticle oil – who has the time and inclination? Well, the things you do to pass the time these days. (Yes Netflix, I’m still watching.)
Brad Pitt in Brussels is actually not a poisson d’avril. Also he is kind of my boyfriend.
Private album Brioni’s Fall/Winter 2020 campaign/Kering.