Perfume and Poetry

I'll leave the story of my long and arduous journey back home from Malaysia to another time.

LSB once commented that I seem more suited for poetry than plays. Possibly it was his way of siam-ing my demands that he mentor my non-existent play writing efforts (he was teaching some other girls how to write plays see, and how could I be left out of that?), but I do agree with him to some extent. Even in my now almost-forgotten Creative Writing Club days, I chose to write poetry. I think the main reason was because poetry was shorter and faster, and I could anyhow-ly link words together and get away with it. But never mind that.

I've always felt there is a natural affinity between poetry and perfume. Poetry is the art of expressing what cannot be said. Perfume evokes memories and emotions that we never knew we possessed. It seems to me that both perfume and poetry hide between words and hide from words, so that the truth of both can never truly be communicated. They fall between the gaps of our knowledge, yet do not fall too far from our understanding. We do not know, yet we can understand; what is hidden is also revealed in equal measure.

Blah I don't know if I really said what I wanted to say there. That seems to happen a lot these days.

Anyway, here is a beautiful story about the affair and eventually tragic marriage between Ted Hughes (who also married the equally tragic Sylvia Plath) and Assia Wevill. The article hinges on Ted Hughes' poem, 'Chlorophyll' and the Dior perfume mentioned in the poem and central to their story. It's a long article, but well worth it if you can make it through.