#French-milled soap

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Pastel Palette ~

[dress-this-way]

Soap Still Life ~ Via Mooisenleifs Blogspot

[onegirlatelier]

Floral vest | November, 2023

This vest is a Frankenstein of two patterns—the construction is from the Ophelia Slipover by Toshiyuki Shimada 嶋田俊之and the floral pattern from the Flower Yoke Pullover by Erika Tokai 東海えりか (@erika_tokai on Instagram). Both patterns are listed on Ravelry but only available in printed books.

Now, it is not my genius idea to piece these two together. I think it was first done by a fellow Chinese knitter and designer, who is XS KNITTING on RED and XS_KNITTING on Wechat. I have both pattern books but she did provide very detailed instructions on how to combine the two patterns for this vest. I mostly followed her notes – see modifications below.

Overview of the construction

Make a provisional cast on with a waste yarn.

Knit colourwork in the round from bottom up, ending at approx. underarm level. Decrease on the sides as instructed. You will later steek the fabric at the sides so the pattern includes the additional allowance for steeking.

Knit the front and back yoke sections flat, following the instructions for neck and shoulder shaping. (There is no armhole shaping in the yoke part.)

Sew together the front and back yoke parts, pick up stitches to make the neckband.

Reinforce the steek and cut. Pick up stitches from the steeked edges to make the side bands. Sew the bottom bit of the side bands together.

Pick up stitches to make the hem.

Needles

(all 80cm circulars)

Colourwork: 3.00mm

Yoke: 2.75mm

Neckband: 2.75mm, bind off with 2.5mm

Side bands: 2.5mm, bind off with 2.25mm

Hem: 2.75mm, bind off with 2.5mm

Yarn

Biches & Bûches Le Petit Lambswool 248m/50g, in white and light pink. This is a 2-ply woolen spun, slightly rustic but soft yarn. It softens even more after washing and blooms too, making an incredibly light but hearty fabric. I always thought it was produced in Europe since this is a French brand, but the Lambswool range is actually spun and dyed in Scotland. Hence it is a little less local than I thought (and their website doesn’t say where the wool material comes from), but I’m also happy to support Scottish mills that produce less chemically treated yarns in small batches.

Another nice thing is that each of my skeins/balls actually weighed 55g, so there was a little surplus than what I paid for.

Yardage

I took detailed measurements just in case you (or future me) are worried about having enough yarn, or thinking about doing differently coloured bands, etc.

As can be seen, the bands and hem take up quite a bit of yardage.

Modifications

Colourwork

I think I followed the instructions entirely for the colourwork.

Yoke

I knitted one more row at the bottom of the front and back yokes respectively, because I somehow started from the wrong side and the pattern started from the right side. The shoulder seams are done with Kitchener stitch instead of a three-needle bind-off. Therefore I think I had about 104 rows in the yoke instead of 100 in the pattern, which means I picked up 84 stitches instead of 80 for the side band at the yoke section.

First block and felting

After I finished the yoke, the colourwork looked rather uneven. Since the yarn I used was thinner than the Shetland yarn in the pattern and I knitted the colourwork loosely to match the instructed gauge, the fabric was also quite loose and not as supple as I wanted. The good thing is that the finished garment (using the required gauge) had quite a lot of positive ease for my body measurements. So I decided to shrink the garment slightly by hand-felting it.

To felt a wool garment, you need one or more of the following: high temperature, moisture, agitation, soap. Here’s what I did to felt it as gently as possible. The half-finished main body had no live stitches at this point so I just soaked it in icy cold water as how you would normally block a knitted garment, but without soap. Then I just use my hands to agitate the fabric until I felt that it had first evened out and then tightened up. Trust me, without hot water or soap you need quite a lot of agitation to felt a garment—not just swishing it around.

I’ve also seen people putting their work into a pillow case into the washing machine on a hot drying cycle and stopping every few minutes to check if it’s felted enough. I have no confidence in operating my washing machine but you can try.

The result was satisfactory enough for me to go ahead.

Neckband

Neckband was finished with a tubular bind off with two rows, i.e. one pair, of reinforcement (the ‘tubular’ bit’). To do this, you would first use a slightly smaller needle to switch the ribbing from 2*2 to 1*1 as you knit across (see Suzanne Bryant’s video). I used a needle one size smaller but I think I could’ve gone down two sizes, as the finished neckband feels a little too loose.

Side bands

I reinforced the fabric using the crochet method and then steeked it. Some people recommend the hook to be one size smaller than the knitting needles, but I used a 1.5mm and it worked well for me. It;s absolutely possible to steek with an even number of stitches (many tutorials say you can only do an odd number of stitches).

Using a 2.5mm circular I picked up stitch for stitch for the colourwork and 84 for 104 for the yoke. One stitch is added at either ends. There was no stitch decrease after picking up. I finished with Italian bind off which is another kind of invisible bind off like tubular bind off, just without the ‘tubular’ bit.

To do this: On the 15th row (wrong side), I knitted the first 35 sts (which were not bound off) using the 2.5mm needle in 2*2 ribbing. Then I switched to 2.25mm and switched the ribbing to 1*1 as I knitted across, and finished by knitting the last 35 sts using the 2.5mm needle again in 2*2 ribbing. On the 16th row (right side), I knitted the first 35sts in the 2.5mm needle and 2*2 ribbing as usual. Then I adjusted how I held the project so that I could pull the working yarn to the opposite side (front/back side) of the garment and start the sewn bind off from the wrong side.

It is absolutely not necessary to do all this. Some people make a very simple knitted bind off. This is purely because I want an invisible bid off and the ribbing pattern made it easier to do it this way. Also see illustration.

Then I Kitchener-stitched the 2*2 ribbing to make the side seam.

Hem

I took out the provisional cast on and transfer sts to a 2.75mm needle. My side bands were slightly wider than instructed so I picked up more side stitches for the hem too. 336 sts I think. I did 2*2 ribbing and finished with a tubular bind-off with four rows, i.e. two pairs, of reinforcement.

And that's it! I'm really pleased about this little vest and might make more in different colour schemes in future.

[sourvers]

01: DON'T BE A STRANGER

chapter summary: a familiar face visits and asks for your help. the choice of refusal is dim.

⤷ this is the first chapter of 'Petrichor'! hope you enjoy lovelies. minor plot change for my heart's sake.

cod main masterlist . petrichor masterlist . ao3 link . next chapter .

The Yukon was pleasant and frigid beyond belief. 

Nevertheless, you craved haskap berries, and spring was inching over the horizon; crawling up your spine and shaking you alive. 

You sigh, gingerly closing your copy of ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea’ , your hand instinctively tracing over the gold details as your French pronunciation lingers across the plain of your tongue.  

‘Vingt mille lieues sous les mers’ , You think, the ventures of Captain Nemo still fresh in your mind like Kate’s stilted voice reverberating in your ear: a siren, a horn, a whisper of dread you couldn’t shake. 

It started outside the grocery store, four days ago. 

Whitehorse was a 15-minute drive from your secluded home, found on the very outskirts of the capital and wrapped by lush pine trees. In the summer, grand fields of wildflowers spread across your horizon and became your choice of commerce during the warmer months, knowing how skilled local businesses made soap from dried fireweed. 

You drove into town to buy items you had put off: flour for the pie, extract, a new toothbrush after your other snapped in half, and red yarn. 

The locals kept to themselves and united all at once. A strange, inexplicable harmony you couldn't penetrate or grasp. Perhaps years of unyielding winters carve and shape people, like a sculptor holding the heart of their project. You hoped one day, you’d understand it too. 

Nevertheless, what you did understand was the townspeople's standoffish and overwrought nature. You were new to the town, a woman who only came to town to buy or sell, spending your ‘elusive’ days in or around the outskirts of your home or a vague “out” as you’d phrase it.

A group of the townspeople’s children even titled you the ‘Wicked Witch of the North’ after you accidentally struck over several vases during a summer market. While it was the talk of the town for several weeks; muttered under hasty quiet breaths despite being miles away, it was when the townspeople heard the most of your voice. From the strange resonance in your voice to how you pronounced your ‘o’s and ‘r’s. 

However, there was one citizen who seemed to find your presence jovial. 

“Oh my!” exclaims Sophia, her brown eyes gleaming under the fluorescent light of the grocery store; casting the small store in an odd shade of green, “Even you don’t come this late, what brings you here witch?” she teases, her bright smile flashing like headlights. 

“Well, I’ve come to pick up my ingredients,” you explain unfazed, your eyes scanning the shelves for your brand of flour,  “I have to keep up appearances of course. Can’t scare the children if I don’t tempt them with pie.” 

Sophia chuckles, her laugh bright and boisterous like the sun beaming down on you. “I suppose you can’t.” 

You scoff, yet, the subtle pull of your lips rivals your sarcasm. 

“You know, the new delivery of flour is behind,” Sophia smiles, “Small tip.” 

You take the one in the front, a small cloud of flour coming to life at your touch, “Thank you… I’ll take note of that.” 

Sophia smile dips and she sighs, tilting her head as she watches you promptly take what you need, contemplating for only a few seconds. 

“Do you have something to say?”

Sophia’s breath hitches, however, she gives you a small tentative smile, “You should come over… have dinner with my family some time, being alone in a place like the Yukon isn't good for the soul.” 

Your hand freezes as you reach for the vanilla extract, its sweetness exuding from the bottle like an elixir. Sophia’s eyes don’t reach you from behind the shelves. Despite being considerably older than Sophia, a part of you stung with childish envy. 

You sigh, and hum in mellow amusement, reaching for your thin wristwatch as you emerge from behind the shelves growing shadow, “And who told you that?”

“My grandmother,” stated Sophia, a small bud of pride growing in her chest, “She is our elder in the community.” 

The corners of your lips rise into a tentative and strangely warm smile, one of kinship even. “A wise woman I can surmise.” 

Sophia grins, “More than you can know.” 

Soon, you line your groceries on the belt and Sophia scans them silently. The beeping and incessant hum of the heater were the only words communicating in the air. 

“You must think I’m annoying.” 

You raise a brow, your eyes searching through your wallet before responding, “How so?” 

Sophia scoffs, “Well, I’m a nineteen-year-old store clerk who bothers a grown woman every time she shops. A bit of an asshole move if you ask me.” 

You let out a momentary laugh, swiping your card, “I’ve seen worse assholes, you’re by far the least dangerous.” 

“So I’m still an asshole?” 

“The good kind.” 

Sophia cracks a smile as she hands you the receipt, “If you let people know you more, they’ll like you.” 

“And why’s that?” you muse, stuffing the receipt in your jacket pocket while starting the car.

“I’m sure you know why,” states Sophia, “Don’t be a stranger.” 

You gaze at her, half amused, “I’ll take note of that.”

You amble towards the door, the sun long set as you reach for the door handle–

“Wait! God I almost forgot,” piped Sophia, “A woman came here earlier, I think she was looking for you given her description. Blond short hair, blue-greyish eyes I think? Anyways, do you know anyone like that? She spoke a bit fast too–”

Your eyes widen before promptly sharpening like the blade of a knife, “Thank you, Sophia. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“But wait-” 

You swing the door open, a blast of frigid evening air brushing against your cheek as the grip on your grocery bag tightens. You let out a slow, restrained sigh, tuning into the crunch of your boots on snow, leading you to your car. Despite the layers you wore, you still shivered as the moon gleamed down on you, its rays tender and soothing. 

Too soothing. 

“It's rather rude to not announce your presence,” you mutter quietly, lacking any bite as you sink your empty hand deeper into your right pocket, eyes fixed on your reflection in the car window and the crunching of snow.

“I hear the townspeople call you ‘The Wicked Witch of the North’, quite the title. I wonder what you did to get it.” 

You hum in amusement, gradually turning your head to face her, the first fall of snowflakes landing on the tip of your eyelashes, “What are you doing here Laswell?”

Kate let out a sharp exhale, a cloud of white rising into the atmosphere. She crosses her arms over her chest, “I need your help, but first, we need to talk.” 

Your eyes go up and down her figure, as your lips curve into a smile, ignoring her pensive face, “As punctual as always. But you didn’t come prepared did you?” 

“Winter’s never been my type.” 

“A shame, you’re missing out,” you quipped, turning your back as you opened the passenger door, “Come on, I don’t have a choice do I?” 

Kate gives you a small smile, uncrossing her arms and shoving her hands deeper into her thin coat pockets, “According to my weather app, it's expected to be spring soon.”

You scoff amused, “Word of advice? Don’t fully trust the weather app.” 

Kate’s smile falters and you become acutely aware of the paper cut between your fingers. You pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. Snowflakes collect on your windshield while the hum of your tires against gravel fills the silence; looping like a song’s beat, over and over. 

“Kate.” 

“Yes?” 

Kate turns her head to face you: your face stiff, steadfast, unwavering; gazing head-on into infinite darkness. Even now- face cast in the evening shadows and dim starlight- Kate’s stomach churned at the sight of you, twisting like a knot. You seemed to be untouched by time: delicate scars still engraved in your skin, acute angles and tender curves still bridging together the map of your face, sharp and ever more subdued. As if deep in slumber. 

It was just as Kate recalled it to be. 

“This ‘help’ that you’re going to ask of me,” you probe, eyes fixed on the road, Kate’s gaze burning through your neck scarf, “I won’t be able to refuse, will I?” 

Kate releases a strained sigh, leaning back into her chair, she gazes ahead. Frost grows on the window. “I don’t want to force you into anything.” 

“But it seems you’ll have to,” you reply smoothly, methodically as if in thought, “Don’t downplay yourself, the only reason I’m here in the Yukon is because of you .”

Kate stiffens and gazes at you shortly, awaiting your words behind the small, tentative pause. 

You shake your head and sigh, lowering your voice, the sound near soothing, “I owe you a debt I will never be able to repay.” 

“I wouldn’t phrase it like that.”

“And yet, here you are.”

You look at Kate for the first time since you’ve entered the car; a sly smile reaching your lips before your eyes swiftly dart away from Kate’s weary stare. 

She notices.  

“Now that we have that out of the way,” you begin, promptly, “What exactly do you need help with?”

“I hope you don’t mind being in a bit of a boy band.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “I think the Backstreet Boys are alright if that’s what you’re referring to.” 

Kate releases a laugh, “It’s a different kind of boy band.” 

Kate gave you a week to pack, say goodbyes if you had any, then depart. 

The file she had given was still placed, rather haphazardly, on your coffee table alongside your book while your craving for haskap berries gradually faded, melting into the Earth like snow. 

You sigh, gradually rising from the couch and crossing your arms. The file staring back at you, its contents spilled across the table while its words were thoroughly engraved in your mind. 

“A covert task force,” you muse, bringing one of the papers to your face, your eyes dancing over the lines, rearranging them like a puzzle, “Four members. All men,” you scoff, “No wonder Kate called it a boyband.” 

Kate had given you a considerable amount of time to pack despite not owning any items worth considerable significance. A duffel bag would do just fine, you’d wear your trench coat, and leave the winter gear behind. 

You haven’t even begun packing.

“God. I even bought groceries,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, “Might as well give it to Sophia for free.” 

After Kate stayed for that night, she left the following morning, her phone ringing call after call. 

“Busy?” 

“More than you can imagine.”

A part of you wondered why she decided to visit from the States; probing your mind until you wrestled in bed for an answer. She could have easily phoned you. Nevertheless, Kate plotted peculiarly. A method of thought meant for only those who understood. Perhaps she came to dangle the medicine for your terrors over your lips, to be of some consolation and company. Or more likely, to ensure the handcuffs around your wrists were still burning through your skin. 

“I never said we needed a new asset to the team.” 

Kate sighs, gingerly placing the cup of tea in front of John. Its smell quietly blended with the air, “You and I both know that we’ve run dry on information.” Kate pulled her chair open, taking a seat, “This friend of mine provides a new set of skills to the task force, something to give us an edge.” 

“Then why is there a strain in your voice?” 

Kate stares at John blankly, her voice low, grave even, “After what nearly happened to Soap, we should reconsider who we consider our assets and informants.��

John remains silent, heaving a sigh before gazing out the window, his eyes mellow for a brief moment. The cup of tea still untouched. “When is he coming?” 

A small smile reaches Kate’s lips, “Bold of you to assume it’s a he John,” Kate pulls out a thin file, its contents scarce, “She’s outsourced, not military but has more than enough skills to carry her weight.” 

John reaches for the file, his eyes scanning over the information: height, weight, eye color, name. 

‘Someone from the outside’ he remarks.

“No photo?” muses John, “She wears a mask like Simon?” 

“No time for a photo. Had to call her in quickly. Though, she prefers long coats instead of a mask.” 

John hums, amused, “Anything else I should know? Before telling the team?” 

Kate pauses, her small smile remains, her tone candid, “Negative.”

[godesssiri]

10 Thrifting tips the thrilling continuation

I am a dedicated thrifter and I have done a few thrifting tips posts, things to look for, how to find the best stuff. I had an excellent day thrifting today and decided it was a good day to polish up a draft I had and post it. So read more for tips to get the goodies.

If you buy fairly plain wooden furniture, it doesn’t take a whole lot of expertise to refinish it. You can get a cheap palm sander for less than 50 bucks, and a small tin of furniture wax goes a long, long, loooong way. Or you can get Danish oil if you want a satin finish or Teak oil for a gloss finish. Don’t let Youtube videos make you believe you have to test out 10 zillion different coloured stains unless you are aiming for a very specific look. Just make sure you slap something nourishing on the wood after you’ve sanded it. Also remember that whatever product you use; multiple light coats will come out better than one thick coat. There’s a huge amount of satisfaction in looking at a gorgeous chunk of wood you’ve bought back to life.

French milled/triple milled soap. Old ladies like to give soap as gifts and people tend to stick it in their drawer to scent their clothes and never actually use it, eventually they have a clean out and this unused soap goes to the thrift store still in it’s original paper wrapping. This soap is expensive. This soap is fantastic. The milling process creates a very different product than the bars you get at the supermarket. It doesn’t go goopy and melty even if you leave it sitting in a puddle in your shower, it’s not as drying to your skin, the scent stays on your skin for longer. These bars last for months, it’s well worth picking them up if you like the scent.

Blue Willow. Would you like to have a nice set of china but don’t want to drop a lot of money on something that might look dated in 10 years? Collect blue willow from thrift stores. Blue willow has been around for hundreds of years and it’s going to be around for hundreds more. It can be slotted in to almost any home style, classical, boho, maximalist, scandi, etc, etc. Because it’s been around for so long pretty much every manufacturer has done it, so you find it really often at thrift stores and it’s easy to pick up a couple of plates here and a serving bowl there. Also, because so many companies have done it over such a long period it’s possible to pick up modern dishwasher safe dinner plates that you can use alongside a lovely 100-year-old antique gravy boat.

Gifts. Never feel ashamed of buying gifts from thrift stores. The perfect vintage item is way more meaningful than any amount of new stuff. And if you’re buying for someone who doesn’t like vintage; if something looks new and undamaged how is the recipient going to know that it’s not new?

Get yourself a thrifting routine. You’re gonna find the best stuff if you go often so don’t just randomly go every now and then. People who say they never find anything are the ones who only call into a thrift store every couple of months and expect something amazing to just drop into their lap. Set a day once a week, or every other week or once a month, but make a commitment to go on a regular basis.

If you see something that you think you like but you’re not 100% sure, as long as you can afford it and have a place for it, get the thing. Take it home, live with it. Maybe you’ll decide you don’t really like it and take it back to the thrift store and consider the price you paid a charitable donation. But sometimes you bring something home that you kinda like and end up absolutely loving it. Some of my favourite things in my house are things I wasn’t completely sure about when I was in the thrift store. There’s nothing worse than the regret of leaving something behind because you weren’t sure about it, then deciding actually I do want that thing, but it’s gone, and you’ll never find another quite like it.

If possible, go with someone who knows your likes/tastes. It’s amazing the number of times I’ve been in a thrift store with my mother or best friend, and they’ve found something I love that I hadn’t even noticed. Plus they’ll be dirty rotten enablers and encourage you to buy the thing that you love but you’re not sure you can justify to yourself.

There are a bunch of Youtubers who do thrift flips. If there’s some décor item that’s in all the stores at the moment and you love it, but can’t justify spending money on it, then it might be worth looking up to see if anyone has done a thrift flip and can give you a tutorial on how to turn a thrifted item into the hot décor items of your dreams.

Keep the cycle going. If you have stuff in your home that you no longer use/love, then donate it. If you’ve traded up and found something better but your original thing still has life in it, donate. Even if you originally bought something from a thrift store no one is gonna be mad if you send it right on back (unless you’ve used it to death, and it really should be heading for landfill).

Don’t put yourself in a box. Don’t refuse to get something because it’s not ‘your style’. What is ‘your style’? Things that you love, that make you happy. Do you love this thing? Does it make you smile? Then it’s your style. Honestly style is something that evolves organically, that grows and expands as we’re exposed to new things. If you try to follow a certain style rigidly then you’ll end up with a home that looks boring and cookie-cutter. Throw in something unexpected that speaks to you. Then throw in another of those things and another and another and pretty soon you’ll end up with a home that actually is your style – maybe you just don’t know what your style really is yet. I think of myself as very confident in my style, but I’m constantly stumbling across new things that I didn’t know I needed in my life.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

[nancypullen]

Paris, Part Deux

We decided to take it easy on ourselves today and just pretend to be French. That meant lunch at a sidewalk cafe, shopping, and just strolling the streets around our sweet apartment. Lunch and shopping are two of my favorite things. When I say shopping, I mostly mean picking up some small treats for the people I love. Rue Cler always has what I need. Finely milled French soap, amazing honeys from my favorite honey store, and this delightful toy store where I found treasure for the grandgirl.

The Rabbits of Alice, and I certainly fell down the rabbit hole.

I picked up chestnut honey here...

This family honey business has hives all over France - if you want honey from bees that feed on lavender fields, or almond orchards, or cherry blossoms, or whatever, they've got it. I picked up some chestnut honey because it just sounded good. You can get lighter or stronger, so of course I picked the strongest.

On Rue Cler the cheese shop has 400 varieties of cheese. Four hundred! I can't even get a decent Gruyere in Denton. *sigh*

I was snapping photos as we walked, so forgive me. The fish monger, the veggies sellers, the bread bakers, the chocolatiers...everything you need for dinner is here. Even flowers for the table.

The aroma from this store - selling everything from roasted chickens to smoked pork loin made my mouth water.

That shop also sells roasted veggies to take away with your meat. You wouldn't dare walk past it hungry. Thank goodness we were full from lunch.

After making our purchases we dropped the packages at the apartment and continued down the street to just spend some time enjoying Paris.

There are always peaceful paths and parks to get away from the hustle and bustle.

And sometimes, when you look up...

there she is! I'm not sure people understand how enormous the Eiffel Tour is, here's a terrible shot I snapped when we were wayyy up on Montmartre.

So when you're on your way somewhere and you're hurrying across a street and see this between buildings, you have to stop and appreciate it.

I still think she's loveliest at night, but I'll enjoy it any time of day. We crossed the Seine, roamed around, stopped for a coffee, and after a bit more exploring we eventually decided to call it a day... because we've got to be up a bit earlier tomorrow to catch a train to Versailles! We were able to get tickets to the palace after all! I have mixed feelings about the Hall of Mirrors - I know it will be breathtaking, but I hope I don't have to see hundreds of myself reflected back at me. This is the point on vacation where I start looking a tad worse for the wear. We left on the 7th, my expiration date is coming up. Mickey snapped a photo of me shopping on Rue Cler this afternoon and I looked 90 years old. Or maybe that's just how I look now.

I guess it is what it is, if I have to be ugly I might as well be ugly in Paris! I'm going to close this blog and get some sleep. Maybe that will help. It was an absolutely beautiful day pretending to be Parisian, I highly recommend it. I like stopping at the windows of real estate offices and looking at the listings of apartments for sale or rent. We stand there and act very particular. We simply must have a balcony facing the Eiffel Tower, preferably near a good market street like Rue Cler, but also close enough to a metro station. We're in the 7th arrondissement right now, where Ina Garten has an apartment - maybe I should ring her bell and ask for advice.

We'd be besties, I'm sure.

Alright kids, I'm off to bed. Sending you love. Until tomorrow, stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[sleebyconfy]

in a stroke of luck and fortune, i managed to find the soap i was thinking of this morning, hiding in my room!

they don't smell as strongly as they used to, but they still smell pleasant and have retained their shape! packaging says this french milled soap is distributed by gianna rose

[iwait4youalexg]

This is L’Oréal kids pear scented shampoo. You know the one with the eyeball. For the people who use dove soap and think to themselves I wish I could smell like this all the time. For the Virgos. For the serial fancy hotel toiletry thieves. For the people who lust over the overpriced French hand-milled soaps in the beauty aisle of Whole Foods

[merakib]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Juicy Peach Bath Set.

[pjfaze]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Burt's Bees Cranberry & Pomegranate Body Bar 5 Oz.

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Yellow and Brown ~

[thebargainswarehouse]

Botanical Sculpted Soaps

French-milled, luxurious vegetable soaps enriched with shea butter & essential oils in captivating botanical scents. Individually wrapped soaps sculpted with a soft bevel and presented in a gift box of three (net wt. 12.9oz).

[burningarcadesandwich-6448f9e7]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Owl Soap Set for hostess gift or guest bath.

[blinkbones]

Our friends the French: practical guide for GIs in France, 1944-1945

This book is a translation of the guide that was given to US GIs sent to France in the aftermath(ish -- see dates) of WW2. It works on a question-answer model. Honestly for the most part it's a funny read. A lot of the "frequently asked questions" are very run-of-the-mill dumb & uninspired musings that anyone normal and bored might have. "They stink :'( Why chief??" "Yes soldier tis because they're out of soap because of the, you know, war." "Also their roads are bad >:(" "Yes soldier tis because of the war again" So it's pretty funny. Like a compilation of a thousand people's most thoughtless ponderings. The other part of the humor is in the political intentions, which are relatively easy to parse out. A lot of the answers aim to remind the soldiers that they have entered a country that suffered war, and to empathize with that. Another fair amount aims to inform and educate on what's be going on -- I think we'd say "combat disinformation" today. Such as, explaining the Lend-Lease agreement, and why decisions have been made (like: why join the war).

The real funny part is in the pretty blatant propaganda, as in "we joined the war because we all care about MORALITY and FREEDOM ! ! ... (and a little bit because it was beneficial to us)" . There was a bit about French farmers "being the most hardworking of them all" that made me laugh -- because I mean, why the French ones in particular? That's hilarious. And another bit, about cars, that went something like this --

"Why are their cars so poorly maintained?"

"Well, they can't maintain them as well, and maybe they do drive worse. But also, it's because our car industry is just extremely superior, and you can't fault them for not being as good :)"

A very dad-read, if I'm honest. A fairly fun look into war history, as fun as that can get. Also similar guides have been produced for various countries and time periods; in case you were curious.