ドラッグストアでとても好きなパッケージがあったので足を止めると、テスターが並んでいたのでこちらの香水を試しました。
LAVONS HOLIC / ZEN FLORAL 1027円
オードトワレタイプ
香水は麝香(じゃこう)の和名でお馴染みのムスクが好きなので、私はZEN FLORALにしました。
綺麗なパッケージで香りも見た目も好きです。
ゴールデンウイークを前にすっかり初夏ですね。
一昨日は晩にカツオのタタキを刺身醤油と擦りおろしニンニクとビールで。
昨日は晩にそうめんとホタルイカの酢味噌和えとビールで、食卓もすっかり初夏です。
日本は5月は新緑の季節とされていて、けっこう暑いんですが、1970年代半頃から5月は初夏という意識が、街や部屋から薄れていってしまっていたようなんですね。
私も5月なのにもうこんなに暑いと思って20代から過ごしていましたが、よく考えてみれば5月ってもう初夏ですよね?
7月が初夏じゃなくて5月が初夏ですよ、そう言えば。
なので一昨日スーパーマーケットに行って、ホタルイカを見つけたのをきっかけにビールを買ったり、そうめんをカゴに入れたりお刺身にカツオの叩きを選んだりして、薄緑色の上昇気流に乗る気持ちでいそいそと部屋に戻りました。
フレグランスもお気に入りはあるのですが、初夏になると何故か新しい香りを探しているような気がします。
ひょっとして驟雨(しゅうう)って今ぐらいからの雨でしょうか?
グーグルAIによると驟雨は夏の季語で、初夏に使っても良いそうです。
私は雨が好きなので、雨といえば6月、ヘアスタイルが決まらない、濡れた傘が満員バスでスカートにくっ付けられちゃう、ジメジメして暑いんだか寒いんだかわからないし、靴は雨で濡れちゃうし、服はいっつもドライアイロン掛けないといけないし、蒸した変な熱で化粧もスッキリクールじゃなくなるし、という様々な反応を知りながら、何故雨が好きなのだろう? と思っていましたが、たった今、堂々と雨は5月の薄緑色の驟雨が好きでしてね、と沈黙の圧をかけることができます。
同じ建物の中?だったと思うんですが、けっこう人気のお店があって土日限定でランチをやっているそうです。
けやき通りにもEarly Whiteness 80's と私が勝手に名付けている、美しい建物がありました。
細い木の矢印に白いペンキを塗られた〇〇ビルとだけ書いてある看板が出ていて、最初気が付いた時、ここはビル建築目当てに観光する人達の中で有名なビルなんだな、と嬉しくなりました。
そっと見ると、きっとデザイナーが、きっと有名建築士と若き頃に盟友となり、きっといつかの約束で、デザイナーが成功してご自身の事務所兼ビルを持った時に設計をお願いするという約束で、造って貰ったんだろうな、というようなビルでした。
皆さんの頭の中にある、海辺の街にあるモダンで白いペンキが似合う、青や緑で装飾され、ロイヤルブルーのさりげないビル名が記されていたのだろうな、というビルだったのですが、やがて持ち主が変わられたようで、無くなってしまいました。
私の記憶でも80年代って後半に行くにつれて暗かったんですが、明るくて洒落てて気持ちの良い冷たい風が通り抜けていく、そんな風景が80年代の初頭にはあったと記憶しています。
Early Whiteness 80'sと呼んでいるのは、その頃の建物やファッションとお洒落のことです。
今はそういった貴重なビルも私の住む街から姿を消してしまったのですが、この頃のEarly 80's Cultureの再構築と、現代へのサンプリングがとても気持ちが良く、暗い時代は終わったのだな、と静かに宵のざわめき、週末のハイヒールと素敵な車のカップル、仕事帰りの達成感に満ちた讃歌とすれ違いながら、熱い気持ちでいます。
そっと見上げるEarly Whiteness 80's 観測をイメージしながら、レモネードの明るさに満ちた素敵な午後をお過ごし下さい。
Since it’s Sunday, I’m writing something lighthearted.
I stopped at a drugstore because I saw a package I really liked, and since there were testers lined up, I tried this perfume.
LAVONS HOLIC / ZEN FLORAL 1,027 yen
Eau de Toilette
https://amzn.asia/d/0auH4w1g
I love musk—the Japanese name for which is “jakou”—so I chose ZEN FLORAL.
The packaging is beautiful, and I love both the scent and the look.
I stopped at a drugstore because I saw a package I really liked, and since there were testers lined up, I tried this perfume.
LAVONS HOLIC / ZEN FLORAL 1,027 yen
Eau de Toilette
https://amzn.asia/d/0auH4w1g
I love musk—the Japanese name for which is “jakou”—so I chose ZEN FLORAL.
The packaging is beautiful, and I love both the scent and the look.
With Golden Week just around the corner, it really feels like early summer now.
The night before last, I had seared bonito with sashimi soy sauce, grated garlic, and a beer.
Last night, I had somen noodles with firefly squid tossed in vinegar miso and a beer—my dinner table feels like early summer too.
In Japan, May is traditionally considered the season of fresh greenery, and it can get quite hot, but it seems that since the mid-1970s, the sense that May is early summer has been fading from the streets and our homes.
I’ve spent my 20s thinking, “It’s already this hot even though it’s May,” but when I really think about it, May is already early summer, isn’t it?
Come to think of it, it’s not July that’s early summer—it’s May.
So, the day before yesterday, I went to the supermarket. Seeing the firefly squid there prompted me to buy some beer, toss some somen noodles into my cart, and pick up some chopped bonito sashimi. I hurried back home, feeling as though I were riding a light green updraft.
I do have my favorite fragrances, but for some reason, when early summer rolls around, I feel like I’m always searching for a new scent.
I wonder if “shuu” (sudden shower) refers to rain around this time of year?
According to Google AI, “shuu” is a seasonal word for summer, so apparently it’s okay to use it in early summer too.
I love rain, so when I think of rain, I think of June—when my hair won’t stay in place, when a wet umbrella gets pressed against my skirt on a crowded bus, when it’s so muggy I can’t tell if it’s hot or cold, when my shoes get soaked, when I always have to dry-iron my clothes, and when the stifling heat makes my makeup lose its fresh, cool look.
The night before last, I had seared bonito with sashimi soy sauce, grated garlic, and a beer.
Last night, I had somen noodles with firefly squid tossed in vinegar miso and a beer—my dinner table feels like early summer too.
In Japan, May is traditionally considered the season of fresh greenery, and it can get quite hot, but it seems that since the mid-1970s, the sense that May is early summer has been fading from the streets and our homes.
I’ve spent my 20s thinking, “It’s already this hot even though it’s May,” but when I really think about it, May is already early summer, isn’t it?
Come to think of it, it’s not July that’s early summer—it’s May.
So, the day before yesterday, I went to the supermarket. Seeing the firefly squid there prompted me to buy some beer, toss some somen noodles into my cart, and pick up some chopped bonito sashimi. I hurried back home, feeling as though I were riding a light green updraft.
I do have my favorite fragrances, but for some reason, when early summer rolls around, I feel like I’m always searching for a new scent.
I wonder if “shuu” (sudden shower) refers to rain around this time of year?
According to Google AI, “shuu” is a seasonal word for summer, so apparently it’s okay to use it in early summer too.
I love rain, so when I think of rain, I think of June—when my hair won’t stay in place, when a wet umbrella gets pressed against my skirt on a crowded bus, when it’s so muggy I can’t tell if it’s hot or cold, when my shoes get soaked, when I always have to dry-iron my clothes, and when the stifling heat makes my makeup lose its fresh, cool look.
Knowing all these downsides, I’ve always wondered, “Why do I love rain so much?”
But just now, I can confidently assert, “I actually love the pale green downpours of May,” and let that statement speak for itself.
I love the bright, fresh, and stylish yet sophisticated look of the early '80s, so I’m really enjoying seeing the city take on that early '80s vibe these days.
I think it was inside the same building? There’s a pretty popular shop there that apparently serves lunch only on weekends.
There was also a beautiful building on Keyaki Street that I’ve taken to calling “Early Whiteness 80's.”
There was a sign with just the name “XX Building” written in white paint on a slender wooden arrow. When I first noticed it, I was delighted, thinking, “Ah, this must be a famous building among tourists who come here specifically to see architecture.”
Looking at it closely, it felt like the kind of building that must have been commissioned by a designer who, in his youth, formed a close bond with a famous architect. I imagined they’d made a promise long ago: once the designer became successful and owned his own office building, he’d ask that architect to design it for him.
It was the kind of building you might picture in your mind—a modern, white-painted structure in a seaside town, adorned with blue and green accents, with its name written in subtle royal blue. But eventually, the owner changed, and it disappeared.
In my memory, the late 80s were getting rather gloomy, but I recall that in the early 80s, there were scenes filled with bright, stylish spaces where a pleasant, cool breeze would blow through.
What I call “Early Whiteness 80’s” refers to the buildings, fashion, and style of that era.
Though those precious buildings have now vanished from the town where I live, I find great joy in the reconstruction of early ’80s culture and its incorporation into the present day.
As I quietly take in the evening buzz—passing couples in high heels and stylish cars on the weekend, and the triumphant hymns of those returning from work—I feel a deep sense of warmth, knowing that the dark days are truly over.
As you gently look up, imagining the observation of Early 80s Whiteness, I hope you have a lovely afternoon filled with the brightness of lemonade.
As you gently look up, imagining the observation of Early 80s Whiteness, I hope you have a lovely afternoon filled with the brightness of lemonade.
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