I remember reading Undina’s series of her love of orange cats. Now Rusty has to be the blogosphere’s most photogenic cat, but for me; I like all cats, or so I thought because, in hindsight, I see a few black influencers…
Starting here; with my favourite song book as a child, over to Alice’s kitten, Cat woman, the famous Chat Noir, the infamous Behemot and last but not least My Sin! What a lineage…
I never thought that my cat the cat who would accept to share my home with me, should be called anything perfume related, so going through endless names, her name was actually from the star rather than the perfume. As she had three white dots from neck to underbelly, I decided she should be called for the brightest star in the summer triangle; Vega! And this is how she ended up with a perfume related name after all. So or so, it suits her and she likes it as in; she doesn’t ignore it.
I’ve been talking about getting a cat for ages but also been very aware of the responsibility going with it. Perhaps too much so, forgetting what a pleasure it is sharing your life with an animal.
I had been scouring the various shelter sites for ‘the one’, for ages. A cat for which it wouldn’t be a deprivation being in a flat, a ‘single’ cat, since I felt two was a bit much for my flat.
‘My’ cat had been on the site for some months, one reason being that the description by the woman who had taken care of her while Vega was fostering her kittens, was not encouraging. She wrote that Vega had only been out of her hiding at night when the house was quiet, and she was uncertain if Vega would ever become accustomed to people. I am sure that didn’t help matters, considering that black cats are still harder to shift than other colours, and a one-eyed cat to boot. A black, one-eyed, scaredy-cat in short.
I decided to take a look since she had been there for more than 4 months, perhaps they knew more about her development now?
At the shelter, I played with her delicately and tried to hand her a treat to which she responded by rolling on her back for me, and, by doing so, telling me in ‘Cat’, that she would like a forever home kind-of n(e)ow.
I thought that visit proved that there was more than a tiny hope that she could become a happy cat if I was willing to risk that she might also be forever shy.
The first night was spent underneath my bed, and it took about a week for her to become familiar with more than my bedroom and the floor, but then the development was speedy.
Now, there are only a few signs of her early timid behavior, and quite a few that she has accepted me as her humble servant.
Since I already wrote about Vega here, let me end up with a short My Sin ‘review’, in honour of all black cats.
Before My Sin gets its reputation butchered by this new version – folks do write the funniest things when they are indignant about something- I want to have a look at the old Dame that is vintage ‘My Sin’.
“It actually reminds me of (…) the little lapdog from the movie Legally Blonde. Take a tiny chihuahua, dress it in pink, and name it Bruiser, this is what Lanvin did now”
“Shame, shame everyone knows you’re lying with this name”
“It’s like spray painting primer over a Rembrandt, drawing a stick figure on it and calling it art.”
“THROW IT IN THE TRASH”
All Fragrantica quotes for the new version
Unfortunately, I only own a sample of the original parfum, which might mean that it has even less resemblance to what the fresh and original My Sin would have smelled like back in 1924 when this particular Madame Zed perfume was released for the house, Lanvin.
I can, however, still smell the full intention behind the name. The, by age, soften molded aldehydes, reminds me of the grease once used in the practice of floral oil extraction, known as enfleurage. The heart of the fragrance which must once have been addictively intoxicating is a buzz of bees around decaying and debauched white flowers. Its base is lush and drunken with sensual feline animalics and bodily warmth. Oh my, to own this… Oh my, even more, to have been the woman who wore this back in the days, some woman she would have been…
Black cats can be hard to photograph as the shadows only seems to blur their features, but catch them in the rays of the sun, and you see the beauty of the black cat: where the fur catches the sun, it turns a glistering white, and in this magical way, there are no shadows just light…
And finishing on that note
Black Cat by Rainer Maria Rilke
A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place
your sight can knock on, echoing; but here
within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze
will be absorbed and utterly disappear:
just as a raving madman, when nothing else
can ease him, charges into his dark night
howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels
the rage being taken in and pacified.
She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen
into her, so that, like an audience,
she can look them over, menacing and sullen,
and curl to sleep with them. But all at once
as if awakened, she turns her face to yours;
and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny,
inside the golden amber of her eyeballs
suspended, like a prehistoric fly.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell.