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I was born in 1964 and the year 1969 seems like arcadia to me, a time I was too young to understand and appreciate. As a decade, as a phenomenon, the 1960s has come to represent many things, from naiveté to revolution, but I assume in this case 1969 refers to the expansiveness, freedom-seeking and questioning of authority that flowed forth after the 1967 Summer of Love. You know, the hippy thing. ("Parfume de Révolte") To my nose, though, 1969 seems far more contemporary. It takes the fruity floral to school, demonstrating that even a genre as threadbare as the contemporary fruity floral can be beautiful and complex in the right hands. Where the hoard of trashy fruitchoulis are glaring, as if highlighted by mercury vapor street lights, 1969 is professionally lit and ready for the camera. Hoard? What’s the collective noun for fruitchoulis? A host? A murder? A gaggle? A cast? Let’s appropriate from the collective noun for the no-longer-used maidens. A rage of fruitchoulis.
02 December, 2012