#Glass Jar Sugar Scrub

[northbirdblog]

Lavender Sandalwood Sugar Scrub

[khaire-traveler]

Love Magic Masterpost

Self-love Spells

"Self-love Bath Ritual" bath spell

"Self-love & Cosmic Love" love charm

"I Am Radiant" love spell

"A Kiss From Rose Quartz" love spell

"Love Scrub" body scrub spell

"Lunar Self-love Water" love spell

"Meditation For Body Acceptance" meditation

"Self-confidence & Self-love" love spray

"Poppy Self-love" love spell

"Power Of The Heart" love spell

"Replace Pain With Self-love" love spell

"Seashell Self-acceptance" love charm

"Self-love Motivation Jar" jar spell

"You Are Lovely" love spell

"Venusian Self-love Jar" jar spell

"Self-love Spell Bottle" jar spell

"Self-love Spell" love spell

"Bubble Of Love" love spell

"Self-love & Self-confidence" love spell

"Self-love Bath" bath spell

"Simple Self-love Spell" love spell

Self-care Spells

"Self-care Sachet" pouch spell

"Bathe Me The Fuck Better" bath spell

"Self-care Lotion" love lotion

"Self-care & Recovery" love spell

"New Skin" love spell

General Love Spells

"To Attract Romance" love spell

"Come Hither Powder" love powder

"Romance Spray" love spray

"Entwinement" love spell

"Fair Feather's Touch" love spell

"Funnel Of Love" love spell

"Little Love Spells" love spell

"Love Attraction" love spell

"Love Chant" love chant

"Love-drawing Spell" love spell

"Love Seed" love spell

"Red Triad" love spell

"Sea Glass" love spell

"Simple Love/Attraction" love spell

"Simple Love Drawing #1" love spell

"Simple Attract A Lover" love spell

"Sugar, Sugar" love spell

"Strength Of Love" love spell

"Honest Passion" love powder

"Passion Spell" love spell

Kitchen Witchery

"Aphrodi-tea" love tea spell

"Apple A Day" love apple spell

"Clementine Cake" love cake spell

"Love Tea" love tea spell

"Raspberry Ice Cream" love ice cream spell

"Love Renewal Tea" love tea spell

"Lover's Tea" love tea spell

"Love Apple Cider" love cider spell

"Rose Sugar" love sugar spell

"Beauty & Sensuality Potion" love potion

Love Baths/Showers

"Love-drawing Soak" bath spell

"Shower Disks" body scrub spell

"Simple Love-Attracting Bath" bath spell

Love Jars, Pouches, & Charms

"First Date Charm" love charm

"Herbal Love Box" box spell

"Attracting Love" jar spell

"Love Jar" jar spell

"Love-drawing Jar" jar spell

"Everlasting Oil" love oil

"Good Witch's Love Jar" jar spell

"Love Salt" love salt

"Bring Passion Back" jar spell

"Luck, Love, & Purity" jar spell

[merrybrides]

DIY: Summer Citrus Sugar Scrub

Rejuvenate and revive your skin with this easy citrus sugar scrub recipe. With only 3 ingredients you probably already have on hand, you’ll be ready to whip up this gentle exfoliating body scrub in no time! 

Sugar Scrub, or body polish is a luxurious way to refresh your skin. It is so gentle that it can even be used on sensitive skin. 

Exfoliating body scrub makes a great shower favor, quick gift, treat for yourself or a hostess gift when you are welcomed to a friend’s beach house.  This jar will keep my skin happy all summer long!

Keep a jar of this sugar scrub by your kitchen to soothe your hands after washing dishes. It will rehydrate your skin from the harshness of the hot water and dish soap. Keep a jar of sugar scrub in the shower for a mini spa treatment up to 3 times a week! 

Citrus Sugar Scrub Recipe Ingredients

It’s made with just a few ingredients, from your kitchen!

Sugar – 1/2 cup of regular white table sugar is perfect for this diy sugar scrub! It exfoliates your skin, gentling rubbing away dead skin cells leaving your skin feeling smooth and radiant. 

Oil – I use 1/4 cup Vitamin E Oil in this recipe which is so good for your skin. Its anti inflammatory properties soothes and calms, while hydrating dry skin and working to heal any blemishes. 

Citrus – Is so good for your body inside and out! Naturally full of vitamin C it leaves your skin with a beautiful glow! It also can help to lighten sun spots or other blemishes on your skin. I love the texture and beautiful color the citrus adds along with its amazingly refreshing scent!  You can use the zest from one Orange, Grapefruit, or Lemon, or 2 Limes, in this recipe.

*** Zest is made from the top layer of a fruit peel. Always try to avoid the white pith. If you don’t have a zester, you can use a vegetable peeler to gently peel the top layer of your fruit. Then cut the strips into finer strips lengthwise, and then again into tiny cubes widthwise. 

Supplies

Large Glass Mixing Bowl

Handheld Citrus Zester (variations under Tips and Tricks)

Spatula

Measuring Cups

Sealable Glass Jars (I like to use mason jars or repurpose clean jars I already own)

Ice Cream Scoop

How to Make Exfoliating Body Scrub

This scrub is so easy to make. It only contains natural ingredients and no artificial food colorings.

Combine sugar and oil.

2. Add zest.

3. Scoop into sealable glass jars.

4. Label and date.

5. Store for up to 3 months in an airtight container.

Variations

This sugar scrub recipe is so easy to customize to fit your needs! 

Citrus Variations – In this recipe I use orange, but any other citrus would work well! In the past, I have used grapefruit, orange, lime, and lemon. They all have worked wonderfully! If using lime I chose to use the zest from 2 limes since they are smaller sized fruit.

Oil Variations – Vitamin E Oil, Coconut Oil, Olive Oil, Almond Oil, Carrot Oil, Argan Oil, Jojoba Oil, and Grapeseed Oil. 

Sugar Variations – Any white sugar should work well in this recipe. Sugar is used for a gentle exfoliation so keep that in mind when choosing the coarseness of the sugar. 

For a winter sugar scrub try adding a dash of ground cloves or ground cinnamon. 

Add a few drops of essential oils. My favorite combinations include other citrus oils to complement and enhance, floral scents such as moroccan rose or lavender, and woody scents such cedar or rosemary. 

Pro Tip: If using coconut oil, it will help to slightly warm the oil on the stovetop or even the microwave before adding it to the mixture. I love coconut oil and lime combination! 

How to Store Sugar Scrub

This Sugar Scrub recipe can be stored for up to 3 months in a properly sealed jar / airtight container.  

PRO TIP: Upcycle jars you already own!

[yummilily]

Jam (40 min)

I have to admit, I grew up a spoiled child. With a grandmother single-handedly supplying the entire town with jam, I never had to resort to the store-bought kind until long after she passed and all her stock was used up. Fortunately, she taught me well. And what better time to put the skill to use than in summer with a plethora of in season fruits at your disposal? The results of a few minutes suffering the heat of stirring in a bubbling pot are well worth the effort in my opinion. 

Equipment:

A large pot (and I really mean large, you don’t want this to be more than half full)

Clean jars and fitting lids

A timer 

A small plate / bowl that easily has space in your fridge

Funnel (optional)

Oven mitts or a dry kitchen towel

Damp cleaning cloth (or something of the sort)

Ingredients:

These are highly customisable. Depending on the type of sugar you're using, you’ll need up to 1.5 kg of fruit / 1.5 L of fruit juice per 500g packet of gelling sugar (essentially just regular sugar with pectin mixed in). The main difference regarding the sugar is its intended ratio to the fruit. The most common ones I’ve seen are 1:1, 1:2 or 1:3 (sugar:fruit). Other than the jam’s sweetness (obviously) the kind you use will influence how shelf-stable it is. The higher the sugar content, the longer you can store it. That being said, I normally use the 1:2 and I’ve never once ran into the issue of the jam going bad before it was all devoured. (That being well over a year when making a large batch. Some of my grandma’s have been forgotten in the cellar for almost 10 and they still were fine. Just trust your eyes and nose when opening up a jar. And label them with the date made.)

It’s perfectly fine to use frozen fruit. Just let it thaw before you get started. 

I recommend adding some lemon juice (about 1 lemon per kg). It helps with thickening the jam and is especially important when you’re using very sweet fruit. The gelling sugar usually has some citric acid added, but I find that adding the fresh lemon helps. Also it offsets the sweetness a bit.

Other than that, go wild! You can add spices, herbs, liquor (you might want to add that after cooking though)... Just make sure you keep the ratio specified on the sugar and you’ll be just fine!

Instructions: 

If you’re using fresh fruit, wash it well, pat dry and cut into small pieces. If you prefer a smooth jam, you can blend it. 

Add all ingredients to a large pot and mix well. Make sure it’s only about half full max. 

Now, most gelling sugar package instructions will tell you to let everything sit for at least a few hours, but honestly, I find that it doesn’t really make a difference to skip this step if you’re in a hurry. It won’t hurt to wait, but it won’t ruin your jam if you don’t.

Before you start cooking, you’ll need to sterilise the jars. (And don’t forget the lids either!) There’s many ways of doing this and a quick online search will give you many results, like putting them through a hot cycle in the dishwasher. Because I don’t have one, my go to method is to first give them a good scrub and then rinse them with boiling water from the kettle, leaving them upside down on a clean kitchen towel until filling. Getting them up to temperature now will also prevent any glass cracking when filling with the hot jam.

While stirring, bring the jam to a boil. The bubbling kind, you really want this going. Once it does start your timer. In most cases it will be 4 minutes, but check the package instructions for specifics. Make sure to keep stirring, you don’t want anything getting stuck to the bottom of the pot.

The jam might produce foam (hence the big pot). If you want to, you can remove it with a spoon, but that’s mainly an aesthetic thing. (Theoretically, the trapped air could contaminate the jam and make it go off faster, but I have yet to witness that happening.)

Once time’s up, reduce the heat to low and spoon out a little bit of the jam onto a plate and put it in the fridge. This is to check if the gelling worked. The jam should start to thicken quickly when cooling. If it’s still too runny, boil it a little longer. If it’s too thick, add a little water. 

When you’re happy with the consistency, remove the pot from the heat and start filling the jars. I do this holding the jar in one hand with an oven mitt (because this will get uncomfortably hot very quickly) ladling the jam in with the other. If the opening of the jar is very small, a funnel can be helpful (make sure that is also sterilised!). Fill it up until just about the brim. Now, if there’s any spills, wipe the screw-top clean. You’ll thank yourself later when you try opening it again. Tightly close the jar and place it upside down.

Repeat until you’re out of jam. I always have an odd amount left that isn’t quite enough for a whole jar. That’s fine though. Simply eat that first.

Allow the jam to cool for about 5 minutes before flipping the jars.

Enjoy!

Notes:

While the sugar content certainly plays a role in preserving, the most important thing is that all your utensils are clean. It’s a bit of work, yes, but ending up with mouldy jam would be worse, right?

[snowy-equinox]

Updated without dead links:

Spells

[‘Amortentia’ Tea] (cw: gif)

[“Bathe Me the Fuck Better” Bath Spell]

[Bead Spell for Self-Love]

[Charm for Self-Love and Cosmic Love]

[De-Stress, Self-Love Sugar Scrub]

[I Am Radiant]

[“It Puts the Lotion on its Skin” Spell]

[A Kiss from Rose Quartz for Self Love and Healing]

[Love Everlasting Oil]

[Love Salt Recipe]

[Love Scrub]

[Love Spell (For Self Care and Recovery)]

[Love Thy Self : Poppet]

[Lunar Self-Love Water & Spell]

[Lunar (Self) Love Sea/Earth Spell]

[Magic Mirror (Self-Love) Exercise]

[Meditation for Body Acceptance]

[New Skin Enchantment]

[Perfume Enchantment for Self-Confidence and Self-Love]

[Poppy Self Love Spell]

[Power of the Heart Self-Love Spell (W.I.T.C.H. Inspired)] (cw: gif)

[Replace Pain with Acceptance and Self Love]

[Rose Sugar]

[Sea Glass Spell for Love]

[Seashell Charm for Self Acceptance]

[Self Acceptance Spell]

[Self Care Sachet] (cw: gif)

[Self Empowerment Jar Spell]

[Self Love and Healing Spell Bottle]

[Self Love Bath]

[Self Love Bath Ritual] (cw: gif)

[Self-Love Folder Charm]

[A Self-Love Jar]

[Self Love Jar] (cw: suicide mention)

[Self Love Magick Tea]

[Self-Love Motivation Jar]

[Self-Love Mug]

[Self-Love Quick Spell] (cw: sigil)

[A Self Love Ritual]

[Self-Love Spell]

[Self Love Spell]

[Self Love Spell (Poetic Origami Spell)]

[Self Love Spell Bottle]

[Self-Love Spell Jar with Protection and Luck]

[Self-Love Spray]

[Simple Self Love Salt]

[Simple Self-Love Spell]

[“Soft Skin, Soft Soul” Bath Ritual] (cw: gif)

[Spell for Confidence and Self-Love]

[Spell: Self-Love Jar of Love]

[Spell: Self-Love Rose Quartz Bubble of Love]

[Starlight Sugar Scrub]

[Treat Yo’ Self Spell] (cw: gif)

[Venusian Self-Love Spell Jar]

[“You Are Lovely” Self Love Spell]

Sigils

[“I am lovable”]

[“I love myself”]

[“I love myself”]

[“I welcome self love into my life”]

[“I will love myself”]

[“I will love myself”]

Magics for Self Love

Updated: July 29, 2017

Spells

[‘Amortentia’ Tea] (cw: gif)

[Aphrodite Healing Self Love Jar]

[“Bathe Me the Fuck Better” Bath Spell]

[Bead Spell for Self-Love]

[“Beauty Lies Within” Spell]

[“Bubble Heart” Self Love Spell] (cw: gif)

[Charm for Self-Love and Cosmic Love]

[De-Stress, Self-Love Sugar Scrub]

[Easy Self-Love Glamour]

[“I Am Majestic” Bath Ritual]

[I Am Radiant]

[“It Puts the Lotion on its Skin” Spell]

[A Kiss from Rose Quartz for Self Love and Healing]

[Lavender Self Love Jar]

[Learn Worth, Do Work Spell]

[Love Everlasting Oil]

[Love Salt Recipe]

[Love Scrub]

[Love Spell]

[Love Spell (For Self Care and Recovery)]

[Love Thy Self : Poppet]

[Lunar Self-Love Water & Spell]

[Lunar (Self) Love Sea/Earth Spell]

[Magic Mirror (Self-Love) Exercise]

[Meditation for Body Acceptance]

[New Skin Enchantment]

[Perfume Enchantment for Self-Confidence and Self-Love]

[Pink Hot Chocolate Milk - A Self-Love Potion]

[Poppy Self Love Spell]

[Power of the Heart Self-Love Spell (W.I.T.C.H. Inspired)] (cw: gif)

[Replace Pain with Acceptance and Self Love]

[Rose Sugar]

[Sea Glass Spell for Love]

[Seashell Charm for Self Acceptance]

[Self Acceptance Spell]

[Self Altar: Honouring Yourself]

[Self Care Sachet] (cw: gif)

[Self Care Spell Jar]

[Self Empowerment Jar Spell]

[Self Love & Healing Bottle]

[Self Love and Healing Spell Bottle]

[Self-Love & Protection Spell Bottle]

[Self Love / Banish Negativity Spell]

[Self Love Bath]

[Self Love Bath Ritual] (cw: gif)

[Self Love Bath Sachet]

[Self Love Bath Salt Spell]

[Self Love Body Scrub]

[Self-Love Folder Charm]

[A Self-Love Jar]

[Self Love Jar] (cw: suicide mention)

[Self-Love Jar]

[Self Love Jar]

[Self Love Jar Spell]

[Self Love Magick Tea]

[Self-Love Motivation Jar]

[Self-Love Mug]

[Self Love Pouch]

[Self-Love Quick Spell] (cw: sigil)

[A Self Love Ritual]

[Self Love ~ Rose Soy Milk Tea]

[Self-Love Sachet]

[Self-Love Spell]

[Self-Love Spell]

[Self Love Spell]

[Self Love Spell (Poetic Origami Spell)]

[Self Love Spell Bottle]

[“Self Love” Spell Jar]

[Self-Love Spell Jar]

[Self-Love Spell Jar with Protection and Luck]

[Self-Love Spray]

[Self Love- To Promote Self Love in Yourself or Another]

[A “Sending Love” Spell]

[Simple Self Love Powder]

[Simple Self Love Salt]

[Simple Self-Love Spell]

[“Soft Skin, Soft Soul” Bath Ritual] (cw: gif)

[Spell for Confidence and Self-Love]

[Spell: Self-Love Jar of Love]

[Spell: Self-Love Rose Quartz Bubble of Love]

[Starlight Sugar Scrub]

[Treat Yo’ Self Spell] (cw: gif)

[True to Yourself- Spell]

[Venusian Self-Love Spell Jar]

[Witches’ Self Care Tea] (cw: gif)

[“You Are Lovely” Self Love Spell]

[You’re Beautiful!: A Spell to Make One Feel Better About Their Appearance]

Sigils

[“I am lovable”]

[“I love myself”]

[“I love myself”]

[“I welcome self love into my life”]

[“I will love myself”]

[“I will love myself”]

[“I will love myself”]

[“Self love”]

[Self-Love Sigil]

[norexflavours]

DIY Projects with Bulk Peppermint Essential Oil: A Guide for Beginners

Peppermint essential oil is a versatile and refreshing oil renowned for its invigorating scent and numerous health benefits. Sourced from the Mentha piperita plant, this oil has gained popularity in various DIY projects, from crafting homemade beauty products to enhancing your home environment. This guide will explore creative and easy-to-follow DIY projects using bulk peppermint essential oil, perfect for beginners looking to harness the benefits of this delightful oil.

What is Peppermint Essential Oil?

Peppermint essential oil is derived from the leaves of the peppermint plant through steam distillation. Its primary active constituents, menthol and menthone, contribute to its characteristic cooling sensation and refreshing aroma. Beyond its pleasant scent, peppermint oil is known for its potential health benefits, including aiding digestion, relieving headaches, and boosting mental clarity.

When purchasing peppermint essential oil, consider sourcing bulk peppermint essential oil from reputable suppliers like Norex Flavours, which ensures quality and purity.

Project 1: Peppermint Aromatherapy Spray

Ingredients:

1 cup of distilled water

2 tablespoons of witch hazel or vodka (as a preservative)

20-30 drops of bulk peppermint essential oil

A spray bottle

Instructions:

Prepare the Bottle: Start by ensuring your spray bottle is clean and dry. A glass bottle is preferable, as essential oils can degrade plastic over time.

Mix the Ingredients: In a bowl or measuring cup, combine the distilled water and witch hazel or vodka. This mixture helps the essential oil blend better with the water.

Add Peppermint Oil: Add 20-30 drops of bulk peppermint essential oil to the mixture. Adjust the number of drops based on your scent preference.

Combine and Store: Pour the mixture into the spray bottle using a funnel. Secure the lid and shake gently to combine.

Use: Spray this refreshing blend around your home to invigorate your space, or use it as a linen spray for a fresh scent in your bedroom or living area.

Project 2: Peppermint Infused Sugar Scrub

Ingredients:

1 cup of granulated sugar (or brown sugar)

1/2 cup of coconut oil (melted)

15-20 drops of bulk peppermint essential oil

Optional: A few drops of green food coloring

Instructions:

Mix the Ingredients: In a mixing bowl, combine the granulated sugar and melted coconut oil. Stir until well combined.

Add Peppermint Oil: Incorporate 15-20 drops of bulk peppermint essential oil into the sugar and oil mixture. If desired, add a few drops of green food coloring for a festive look.

Store the Scrub: Transfer the mixture to an airtight jar. Store in a cool, dry place.

Use: In the shower, take a small amount of the scrub and gently exfoliate your skin in circular motions. Rinse thoroughly for soft, refreshed skin.

Project 3: Homemade Peppermint Candles

Ingredients:

1 cup of soy wax flakes

1 teaspoon of peppermint essential oil (or more to taste)

A candle wick

A heat-safe container (like a glass jar)

Instructions:

Melt the Wax: In a double boiler, melt the soy wax flakes until fully liquefied. Stir occasionally for even melting.

Add Peppermint Oil: Once the wax is melted, remove it from heat and allow it to cool slightly before adding the bulk peppermint essential oil. This helps preserve the oil's aromatic properties.

Attach the Wick: While the wax cools, secure the candle wick to the bottom of your container using a small amount of melted wax or a wick sticker.

Pour the Wax: Carefully pour the melted wax into the container, ensuring the wick remains centered. Leave a little space at the top.

Let it Set: Allow the candle to cool completely and harden. Trim the wick to about 1/4 inch above the wax surface.

Enjoy: Light your homemade peppermint candle for a refreshing ambiance in any room.

Project 4: Peppermint Foot Soak

Ingredients:

1 cup of Epsom salt

1/2 cup of baking soda

15-20 drops of bulk peppermint essential oil

A bowl of warm water

Instructions:

Mix the Soak Ingredients: In a bowl, combine the Epsom salt and baking soda. This combination helps relax tired muscles.

Add Peppermint Oil: Incorporate 15-20 drops of bulk peppermint essential oil into the mixture and stir well.

Prepare the Foot Soak: Fill a basin or bowl with warm water. Add the mixture and stir until dissolved.

Soak Your Feet: Soak your feet for 15-20 minutes, allowing the cooling properties of peppermint oil to refresh and rejuvenate your feet.

Project 5: DIY Peppermint Soap

Ingredients:

1 lb of melt-and-pour soap base (glycerin or shea butter)

20-30 drops of bulk peppermint essential oil

Soap colorant (optional)

Soap mold

Instructions:

Melt the Soap Base: Cut the soap base into small cubes and melt it in a microwave-safe bowl in 30-second intervals, stirring in between until fully melted.

Add Color and Scent: If using soap colorant, add it to the melted soap base and mix well. Then, add 20-30 drops of bulk peppermint essential oil and stir.

Pour into Molds: Pour the mixture into soap molds, filling them evenly.

Let it Set: Allow the soap to cool and harden completely, which usually takes about 1-2 hours.

Unmold and Enjoy: Once solid, gently remove the soap from the molds. Use this refreshing peppermint soap during your showers to invigorate your senses.

[blfontain]

Transform Your Life: 10 Easy DIY Zero Waste Projects for a Greener Tomorrow

10 Simple DIY Zero Waste Projects for Beginners

1. Introduction:

Imagine a world where our trash bins are nearly empty, and our planet breathes a little easier. That's the magic of the zero waste movement! By embracing zero waste practices, we can significantly cut down on the waste we produce, conserve precious resources, and reduce pollution. Small DIY projects are a fantastic way to dip your toes into this eco-friendly lifestyle. They're not only budget-friendly but also incredibly empowering. Ready to make a difference? Let's dive into ten simple DIY zero waste projects perfect for beginners.

2. Reusable Beeswax Wraps:

Say goodbye to plastic wrap and hello to reusable beeswax wraps! These handy wraps are perfect for keeping your food fresh without the plastic waste.

Materials:

- Cotton fabric

- Beeswax pellets

- Parchment paper

- Iron

Instructions:

1. Snip your fabric into the sizes you need.

2. Lay the fabric on a sheet of parchment paper.

3. Sprinkle beeswax pellets evenly over the fabric.

4. Cover with another sheet of parchment paper.

5. Iron over the parchment paper until the beeswax melts and saturates the fabric.

6. Let it cool and harden. Voilà! Your beeswax wrap is ready to use.

These wraps are a game-changer for a zero waste lifestyle. You can find beeswax pellets at a zero waste store near me or online.

3. Homemade Cleaning Products:

Ditch those chemical-laden commercial cleaners and whip up your own all-natural, zero waste cleaning solutions. They're better for you and the planet!

All-Purpose Cleaner:

- 1 cup white vinegar

- 1 cup water

- 10-15 drops of essential oil (e.g., lemon, lavender)

Instructions:

1. Mix the ingredients in a spray bottle.

2. Shake well before each use.

Glass Cleaner:

- 1 cup water

- 1 cup rubbing alcohol

- 1 tablespoon white vinegar

Instructions:

1. Combine the ingredients in a spray bottle.

2. Shake well and use on glass surfaces.

These homemade cleaners are effective and reduce the need for plastic bottles. Ingredients like vinegar and essential oils can often be found at a zero waste store near me.

4. DIY Cloth Produce Bags:

Plastic produce bags? No, thank you! Sewing your own cloth produce bags is a simple and rewarding project that helps cut down on plastic waste.

Materials:

- Lightweight fabric (e.g., muslin)

- Sewing machine or needle and thread

- Drawstring cord

Instructions:

1. Cut the fabric into rectangles of your desired size.

2. Fold each rectangle in half and sew the sides, leaving the top open.

3. Hem the top edge and create a casing for the drawstring.

4. Thread the drawstring through the casing and tie the ends.

Using cloth produce bags is a fantastic step towards a zero waste lifestyle. You can find suitable fabric at a zero waste store near me or repurpose old sheets or pillowcases.

5. Upcycled T-Shirt Tote Bags:

Got old t-shirts lying around? Turn them into stylish and functional tote bags, reducing textile waste and giving your wardrobe a second life.

Materials:

- Old t-shirt

- Scissors

- Sewing machine or needle and thread

Instructions:

1. Cut off the sleeves and neckline of the t-shirt.

2. Turn the t-shirt inside out and sew the bottom hem closed.

3. Turn it right side out. Your tote bag is ready to use!

Upcycling old t-shirts into tote bags is a fun and creative way to reduce waste. If you need more t-shirts, check out a zero waste store near me for second-hand options.

6. Natural Body Scrubs:

Pamper yourself with natural body scrubs made from kitchen ingredients. They're luxurious, eco-friendly, and free from plastic packaging.

Coffee Scrub:

- 1 cup used coffee grounds

- 1/2 cup coconut oil

- 1/4 cup brown sugar

Instructions:

1. Mix all the ingredients in a bowl.

2. Store in a reusable jar and use as needed.

Sugar Scrub:

- 1 cup granulated sugar

- 1/2 cup olive oil

- 10-15 drops of essential oil (e.g., peppermint, lavender)

Instructions:

1. Combine the ingredients in a bowl.

2. Store in a reusable container and use in the shower.

Making your own body scrubs is a luxurious way to embrace zero waste living. Ingredients like coconut oil and essential oils can be found at a zero waste store near me.

7. Reusable Makeup Remover Pads:

Disposable makeup remover pads? No more! Sewing your own reusable pads is a simple and eco-friendly solution.

Materials:

- Soft fabric (e.g., cotton flannel)

- Sewing machine or needle and thread

Instructions:

1. Cut the fabric into small circles or squares.

2. Sew two pieces of fabric together, leaving a small opening.

3. Turn the pad right side out and sew the opening closed.

Reusable makeup remover pads are gentle on your skin and the environment. You can find suitable fabric at a zero waste store near me or repurpose old clothes.

8. Compost Bin:

Turn your kitchen scraps into nutrient-rich soil with a DIY compost bin. It's an excellent way to reduce waste and nourish your garden.

Materials:

- Large plastic bin with a lid

- Drill

- Organic waste (e.g., fruit and vegetable scraps, coffee grounds)

Instructions:

1. Drill holes in the bottom and sides of the bin for aeration.

2. Place the bin in a convenient location.

3. Add organic waste and mix regularly.

4. In a few months, you'll have rich compost for your plants.

Creating a compost bin is a practical step towards a zero waste lifestyle. If you need a bin, check out a zero waste store near me for options.

9. DIY Toothpaste:

Say goodbye to commercial toothpaste tubes and hello to homemade, zero waste toothpaste. It's simple, effective, and eco-friendly.

Ingredients:

- 2 tablespoons coconut oil

- 1 tablespoon baking soda

- 10-15 drops of peppermint essential oil

Instructions:

1. Mix all the ingredients in a small jar.

2. Use a small amount on your toothbrush as needed.

DIY toothpaste is effective and reduces plastic waste. Ingredients like coconut oil and essential oils can be found at a zero waste store near me.

10. Zero Waste Gift Ideas:

Celebrate special occasions with thoughtful, sustainable gifts that you can make at home. They're unique, eco-friendly, and show you care.

Ideas:

- Homemade candles using soy wax and essential oils.

- Hand-knitted scarves or hats.

- Baked goods in reusable containers.

- Potted plants or herbs.

Zero waste gifts are unique and show that you care about the environment. You can find materials for these projects at a zero waste store near me.

11. Conclusion:

Starting with one DIY zero waste project can lead to a more sustainable lifestyle. Each small step contributes to a larger impact on the environment. Gradually incorporating more zero waste practices into your daily routine can help you live a greener, more eco-friendly life. Remember, every effort counts!

Which of these zero waste projects are you most excited to try first, and how do you think it will impact your journey towards a more sustainable lifestyle?

Greenify Me - 20 Easy Zero Waste DIY Ideas:

Mindful of the Home – 17 Cheap and Easy DIY Zero-WasteProducts:

Good good good news:

Happiest Camper – 40+ Easy Zero Waste Projects for the Home:

[shadowmountainbotanicals]

PUMPKIN SUGAR SCRUB

Pumpkin is not only a delicious fruit, which also serves as a fabulous lantern to guide you through the darkness of winter, it is also full of nutrients that are beneficial for the skin and wonderfully soothing and moisturizing for all skin types. This is a great recipe to use up any leftover pumpkin purée you may have, or you can make your own purée with pumpkin or butternut squash. Sugar scrubs are not only good for removing all those dead skin cells and allowing new skin to glow, but they also stimulate circulation and help even out skin tone.

MAKES 1 X 250G [9OZ] JAR 2 Tbsp pumpkin purée, homemade (see method) or from a can 200g [1 cup] brown or pure cane sugar 2 Tbsp sweet almond oil 2–3 drops cinnamon essential oil EQUIPMENT food processor latex gloves (optional) 250g [9oz] glass jar or container If making your own pumpkin purée, preheat the oven to 180°C fan [400°F/Gas mark 6] and bake a large piece of unpeeled pumpkin or ½ butternut squash for 30 minutes. Scoop out the flesh into a food processor and process it into a purée. Allow to cool. Alternatively, use canned pumpkin. In a medium bowl, mix all the ingredients well with clean hands or using latex gloves. Place the mixture in a 250g [9oz] jar and keep refrigerated until ready to use. It will keep for a month. To use, apply the scrub all over your body and face in gentle circular movements and rinse well.

[degrowthprojectprocesscolley]

I also did a bit of research into what I can do with dried orange peels. Lots of different options came up, but one that stood out to me was making a natural sugar scrub using coconut oil, cane sugar, and dried orange peels. This made me start to think about how much money I spend on gifts for people when it is their birthday or any other kind of holiday. I realized that I spend a lot on gifts for people so learning that there is a way to make a natural body scrub with dried orange peels got me thinking if I used the peels I have saved so far to do exactly that. It only takes about a week before it can start being used, but the downside is that I will need to find jars to put the scrubs in. My family tends to save glass jars for various reasons so I'm hoping I can use some of those. If I need more my local Goodwill seems to always have a great selection of jars that I can buy and use.

In a way this idea reminded me of the Braiding Sweetgrass reading when she talks about the council of pecans. Taking the pecans from the fallen tree and making them into a high protein porridge in the old times of her people. In my case I am using all of the resource nature has provided. I ate the fruit of the orange and with the peels I am going to turn them into a resource for friends and family. I also thought about how gift giving might create a sense of social debt amongst the people I give the orange scrubs to, but at the same time I wonder if there are certain occasions where it might not create social debt.

[saltysodacracker]

8:10am

January 11th, 2024

This is what I was thinking of creating this year. I want to start my own small business that includes crystals, books, ceramics, art, prints, and even maybe homemade natural skin care line and cleaners. All for affordable prices. I wanted to create even maybe shower steamers, bath salts, bath bombs, hard soaps. Even maybe dabble a little into candle making.

For skin care:

Facial mist, essential oil body fragrances, light face and lip oils, chapstick, maybe my own cream blushes, and something like concealer for the girlies that have blemishes, but don’t want a full face of foundation which creates more breakouts. My own type of facial hand towel, and source black African soap in cubes. I also want to create body butter out of shea butter and essential oils. Make something that isn’t oily but moisturizes the skin. Maybe also on the lines of bum creams and stuff like that real whipped and pipped frosting like in jars. Hair perfume too.

For bath:

Bath salts, bath bombs, candles, shower steamers, body soaps, bubble bath, sugar scrubs for body, and lips.

For cleaners:

Laundry detergents infused with thieves essential oils, all purpose cleaner, glass cleaner.

For ceramics:

Blueberry giant decor, pool and billiards dishes and trinket trays, ash trays, rubics cube giant decor.

[northbirdblog]

Coconut Vanilla Sugar Scrub

Try making this warm and relaxing Coconut Vanilla Sugar Scrub for your skin!

[glowfitlife]

The impact of sustainability on the beauty industry and how to create eco-friendly DIY products

The beauty industry has long been associated with glamour and luxury, but with the rise of environmental awareness, it's clear that sustainability is becoming a top priority for consumers. The impact of sustainability on the beauty industry cannot be overstated - from the production of cosmetics to their packaging, every aspect of the industry has the potential to affect the environment. Thankfully, there are plenty of ways to create eco-friendly DIY products that not only help to reduce waste and minimize environmental impact but can also save you money in the long run. In this blog, we'll explore the impact of sustainability on the beauty industry, and provide some tips and tricks for creating your own DIY products.

The Impact of Sustainability on the Beauty Industry

Sustainability has become a key concern for the beauty industry, as consumers become more aware of the environmental impact of their purchases. From the production of cosmetics to their packaging, every aspect of the industry can have an impact on the environment. One of the biggest challenges facing the beauty industry is the issue of packaging waste. According to the United Nations, up to 90% of plastic waste is not recycled, and much of it ends up in the ocean. This has led to a growing movement towards more sustainable packaging options, such as glass, aluminum, and paper. Another issue is the use of toxic ingredients in beauty products. Many conventional beauty products contain harmful chemicals that can be harmful to both the environment and our health. Some of these chemicals include parabens, phthalates, and formaldehyde, which have been linked to cancer, reproductive issues, and other health problems.

Creating Eco-Friendly DIY Products

Creating your own DIY beauty products is a great way to reduce waste, save money, and minimize your environmental impact. Here are some tips for creating eco-friendly DIY products: - Use natural, sustainable ingredients One of the best ways to ensure that your DIY products are eco-friendly is to use natural, sustainable ingredients. Look for ingredients that are organic, locally sourced, and biodegradable. Some great options include coconut oil, shea butter, beeswax, and essential oils. - Choose reusable packaging When it comes to packaging your DIY products, consider using reusable containers, such as glass jars or metal tins. Not only are these options more sustainable than single-use plastics, but they can also be repurposed or recycled once they're no longer needed. - Avoid toxic ingredients When creating DIY beauty products, it's important to avoid toxic ingredients that can harm the environment and our health. Some common toxic ingredients to watch out for include parabens, phthalates, and synthetic fragrances. Instead, opt for natural ingredients and essential oils to add scent to your products. - Research recipes and techniques There are plenty of resources available for creating your own DIY beauty products, including online tutorials, books, and classes. Before starting any project, be sure to research recipes and techniques to ensure that you're using the best ingredients and methods. - Make your own cleaning and exfoliating products Instead of using commercial exfoliating scrubs and cleaning products that contain microplastics, which can harm the environment, you can make your own using natural ingredients. For example, you can use sugar or salt mixed with coconut oil to create a gentle exfoliating scrub for your face or body. You can also use baking soda and vinegar to create a natural cleaning solution for your hair and scalp. - Repurpose old containers Instead of throwing away old containers, such as empty moisturizer jars or lip balm tubes, you can repurpose them for your DIY beauty products. Clean them thoroughly, and use them to store your homemade lotions, balms, and serums. - Use zero-waste alternatives If you're looking to reduce your environmental impact even further, you can consider using zero-waste alternatives to traditional beauty products. For example, instead of using disposable cotton pads or makeup wipes, you can use reusable cotton pads or a microfiber cloth to remove your makeup. - Support eco-friendly brands If you don't have the time or resources to make your own DIY beauty products, you can still support eco-friendly brands that prioritize sustainability and ethical practices. Look for brands that use natural, sustainable ingredients and eco-friendly packaging, and that prioritize ethical sourcing and production. Final Thoughts Sustainability is becoming increasingly important in the beauty industry, as consumers demand eco-friendly and ethical products. By creating your own DIY products using natural, sustainable ingredients and reusable packaging, you can reduce waste, save money, and minimize your environmental impact. With a little research and experimentation, you can create beautiful and effective beauty products that are good for both you and the planet. Read the full article

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.1

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.2

Beautiful artwork was created by @starstruck-loner​! THANK YOU SO MUCH SWEETIE I LOVE IT!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Snow freckled the chilly January day lightly, like powdered sugar over a freshly baked pastry, sticking to each layer effortlessly and creating a blanket that completely covered the woods and the cabin nested between the trees. The atmosphere was still and stiff, like frozen icicles that were not going to start dripping any time soon. The air was bitter and unwelcoming, which was probably why no living thing was outside today. Today was the perfect day to burrow and sleep and keep warm with your own body heat.

A crack through space-time cut through the air. The crushing of tiny ice particles followed as two twelve-year-olds ran, one chasing the other, as the time-tape was heating up and buzzing. “This thing is getting hotter! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!” Mabel attempted to save her palms from burns by bouncing the tiny machine between her hands.

“What are you doing?!” Dipper demanded as Mabel bounced the tape-measure too hard and her twin reached a hand to catch it. He managed to catch it perfectly, like an athlete catching a baseball, and then was gone in a flash of baby-blue lightning.

Mabel’s eyes widened in sheer panic and she held her arms as a gust of wind blew and nearly froze her to her core. It felt like her skin was being pricked by mean sewing needles. She looked around wildly for her brother, for him to come back to this time and place immediately, because surely he would use the time machine to come back, but seconds ticked by and she was still alone.

Puffs of smoke decorated the wintry scene as she held her shivering body and looked at the shack. It wasn’t as colorful and welcoming and loud as the shack Mabel remembered, but she made herself consider that it was because there was no big sign or tourist-y things, and it was winter. Then a light turned on, the hall if Mabel remembered her summer home correctly, and the door opened.

The hope that Mabel had in her chest of seeing her great-uncle was gone, and replaced with fear and confusion. This man looked very much like Stan, though much younger, quite chubby and youthful, wearing a black t-shirt and blue plaid pajama-pants. He had the same face as a young-Stan, but with a more pink than orange nose, a cleft chin, fluffier hair that reminded Mabel of her’s when it was short, and different glasses. 

Mabel didn’t know what to do or how to react or how to feel. People change a lot when they age, sure, but this much? It was possible this person wasn’t Stan, but who else would look so similar to him and live in this house? Maybe this is the guy who lived here before Stan, and they just happen to look very similar. This is Gravity Falls, and though she and Dipper were still new to the town, it was a weird place where something like this could happen.

It also came to Mabel how odd the situation was for the man: a little girl was standing in a sweater and skirt outside his house in the winter. Would he try to send her home? She had no home to go to. She didn’t know what year this was, but if it was a time Stan didn’t live here, it must have been way before she was born, maybe even before her parents met. She was stranded.

But the man looked at her sympathetically and he seemed kind and worried. He grabbed a trenchcoat and called gently, “Hello. Are you okay?”

Mabel bit her lip. His voice was definitely not Grunkle Stan’s. A gust of wind made her shiver and her teeth chatter, and the man stepped into some slippers and walked up to her, draping the trenchcoat over her shoulders. “There there, that’s a very nice sweater, but it doesn’t seem to be keeping you warm, is it?”

“N-No.” Mabel shivered. “I… I used breathable yarn for…” She stopped. She was going to say how she used breathable yarn for the warm California weather, but she decided not to.

“You used?” The man repeated, rubbing her shoulders to try to make the trenchcoat work faster. “You made this?”

Mabel saw his excited grin and she smiled nervously. “Y-Yeah. I knit sweaters.”

The man bent his knees in front of her and studied her sweater. She held out an arm so he could see and his brown eyes sparkled. “That’s very impressive! I love sweaters!”

Mabel gasped happily. “C-C-Can I m-make you one?!”

The man looked taken back, but chuckled and stood. “Of course, but first let’s get you warm. How does hot chocolate sound?”

“Y-Yes, p-p-please.” Mabel shivered, and allowed the man to walk her into the house.

It was scaringly like the Mystery Shack, but so much was different. It was the same layout, the same house, but there was so much that was different. A coat rack stood by the door, holding a white lab coat with black rubber gloves in the pocket, some safety goggles like the ones in Mabel’s science classes, and Stan’s fez. Mabel stared at it. Well, okay it probably wasn’t Stan’s fez, but it was a maroon fez with a golden fish and a black tassle. 

There was a wood-burning stove alive in the living room, with a small box full of wood by it and a tiny stool. Instead of Grunkle Stan’s armchair, there was a red-velvet couch, a large writing desk, and the room was decorated with books, desks, papers, and jars and experiments. It was all strange, but warm and cozy with the fire going.

Mabel smiled as the man pulled out the tiny stool and gestured for her to sit by the stove. She obeyed and the coat was removed from her shoulders, but quickly replaced with a dark-green blanket.

“There, do you mind warming up here while I make your hot chocolate?” He asked, draping his trenchcoat over his arm.

Mabel shook her head and held her cold hands in front of the stove. “Thank you.”

The man smiled. “You’re welcome.” And he turned and left for where Mabel knew the kitchen was.

Sitting alone and feeling better as her body was getting warm, Mabel thought it all over. This man was clearly not her Grunkle Stan, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nice or couldn’t help her. Any minute Dipper was going to come back for her, but until then she had to stay where she was. That’s what grown-ups told her to do if she was ever lost. Stay where you are until you’re found.

By the time Mabel was very comfortable, the man returned with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and handed one to the girl. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mabel sipped and hummed in delight as the man sat on the floor next to her.

“You’re very welcome.” He sipped his drink and added, “Now then, I have to ask, what were you doing out there? Did you get lost?”

Mabel’s face dropped and she nodded. “Uh, huh.”

“Hm, very well. That can easily happen when playing on a snow day.” The man said with a smile. “Why don’t I call our parents and we can arrange to have you back home safe?”

Mabel swallowed nervously. She bit her lip, looking down at her mug. She didn’t know what to say to that.

The man looked at her and noticed how scared she was. “Is something wrong?”

Mabel looked up at him, was met with a kind face, and whimpered, “I can’t call them.”

The man smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure you won’t get into too much trouble. Maybe a little, but it’s for the best to call them so we can get you home soon.”

Mabel shook her head and squeezed her stinging eyes shut. “They’re… not around.”

The man’s face dropped as Mabel scrubbed at her eyes. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Mabel only replied with a sniff and she sipped her hot chocolate.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” The man asked. “I’m sure there’s someone out there worried about you.”

Mabel bit her lip. “M-My brother… He’s still out there…”

“Is he lost, too?”

Mabel shrugged.

“Well,” The man held his cleft chin in thought. “I’m sure he’s out there looking for you. Perhaps then you should wait here until he comes here, and then we can send you to your guardian.”

“It’s just us.” Mabel muttered. “Just us.”

The man smiled. Mabel hoped he believed her brother was much older than her, or at least old enough to take care of her. That way she wasn’t really lying, just letting this man believe what he wanted to believe. Nothing wrong with that. “Okay. Still, you may stay here until he finds you.”

Mabel sniffed and wiped her nose with her sweater sleeve. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Ford.” He said and held out a hand to her.

Mabel smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Mabel.”

“Mabel, huh? That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at their hands and her eyes widened. One, two, three, four, five, s-...

Ford pulled his hand free, his cheeks reddening as he sipped his hot chocolate, but Mabel was grinning at him happily and she gasped with joy, “You have six fingers?!”

Ford blinked at her, reminding Mabel of a startled owl, and he cleared his throat. “Um, y-yes. It’s a birth defect.”

“Nuh, huh! It’s cool! Can I see, please?” Mabel sat her mug on the floor by her feet.

The researcher didn’t like people staring at his hands, but this young girl wanted to look, it appears, in admiration, so Ford hesitantly gave her his hands and she held them lovingly, her eyes sparkling like stars.

“Wow! That’s neat! No wonder your hand shake was so friendly! It’s a whole finger friendlier than normal!” Mabel was then reminded that Dipper’s journal had a six-fingered hand on it.

The girl’s eyes widened as she wondered if she was meeting Dipper’s idol. It was possible. The journal Dipper had dated it in the 80s, and Dipper said that the author mysteriously disappeared. As exciting as it was to meet the Author of the Journals, all it did was put Mabel more at ease. If anyone can help her, he can.

Ford laughed and gave her hands a soft squeeze. “I like you! You’re weird.”

Mabel grinned, distracted from her thoughts and grateful for it. “I like you, too, Ford!”

[dailywitchmag]

Flavored Sugar & Salt

For tea, baking or home cosmetics.

A wonderful way to diversify homemade cakes, teas, coffee, as well as natural cosmetics that include salt or sugar (scrubs, for example), and most importantly, simple and fairly quick.

Various herbs (and also, for example, orange peel), as you know, are rich in aromatic oils, which tend to soak everything around them.

A linen sack of lavender will have its scent for a long time, even when it runs out. And this is to our advantage when it comes to flavoring sugar or salt.

You will need:

glass jar with airtight lid

salt/sugar

spices or herbs optional

1) Choose an herb or spice whose scent you want to convey to your salt or sugar. 2) Pour about 1-2 cm of sugar/salt into the bottom of your jar 3) Add a layer of selected herbs on top 4) Pour sugar over again and alternate layers until the jar is completely filled 5) Leave in a warm dark closet for a couple of weeks, or better, for a month.

My favorite combinations:

Orange peel + A couple of vanilla sticks

A very nice smell for baking (or bath salts, by the way, anything is good for bath salts).

Mint + Vanilla

For salt, which then becomes a body scrub.

Rosemary

Lavender

For sugar in tea or as a topping for baking.

Rosemary + Lavender

Salt infused with these herbs and used as a scrub or simply dissolved in the bath has many beneficial properties and is beneficial for the skin and nerves, be sure to try it.

Rose petals

Cloves + Cardamom + Cinnamon sticks

Such infused sugar will need to be kept longer and always in a warm place so that the spices give off their smell.

But you can take whatever you like. The main thing, the main thing is that it should be odorous.

Wish you tasty tea and beautiful jars.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

72 Hours In Montreal [Part I]

A/N: Many moons ago, the incomparably lovely @im-an-adult-ish​ pitched a Montreal concert fic idea (jokingly, I think), and quite a few of my followers fell in love with it. They were even kind enough to vote on which Queen member should be the love interest, and there was a clear winner: John! 

I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and at last, here is the first of three chapters of this new mini-fic. I’m going to tag some of my past readers, but I WILL NOT TAG YOU AGAIN unless you ask me to. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. 💜

Series Summary: John Deacon is a rock star at a crossroads. Y/N is a world-weary employee at a Yankee Candle shop. They’ll only ever have three short days in Montreal together...or will they??

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (not graphic). 

Word Count: 6.8k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @escabell​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​ @deacyblues​ @tensecondvacation​ @brianssixpence​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @youngpastafanmug​ @simonedk​ @rhapsodyrecs​ ​​​ @joemazzmatazz​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​​ @namelesslosers​​ @inthegardensofourminds​​ @sleepretreat​​ @hardyshoe​​​ @sevenseasofcats​​ @jennyggggrrr​​ @madeinheavxn​​ @whatgoeson-itslate​​​ @herewegoagainniall​​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​​ @pomjompish​​ @allauraleigh​​  @bluutac​​ @johndeaconshands​​ 

The obnoxious British men are still laughing. The one with the mustache, suspenders, and illogically tight red leather pants is standing on the tiptoes of his equally red Adidas shoes to paw candles off the top shelf so he can sniff them. The blond one has no less than eight jars balanced precariously in his wiry arms. Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing is billowing through the shop speakers.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna break something,” you moan in a whisper, covering your eyes but peeking through your fingers. Your apron is suddenly too tight around your waist; your cheeks are roaring with blood as you envision the inevitable confrontation: Sir, unfortunately you ruined some of our giant tacky overpriced candles and so now you have to pay for them. So sorry. Paper or plastic? We take Mastercard.

“Who?” Kevin asks. He’s holding a broom in one pudgy, pinkish hand and a dustpan in the other. He has surrendered.

“That one. Suspenders and moustache guy. Red shoes guy. Dorothy without Toto.”

Kevin cracks a smile. “That is frighteningly accurate. He is rather whimsical, isn’t he? Maybe he’ll click his heels and disappear back to London or wherever.”

“We aren’t in Kansas anymore,” you mutter in commiseration. Actually, to be perfectly literal, you’ve never been to Kansas in your life.

“Wait, I think I might have met that guy before somewhere.” Kevin squints with great concentration. “He looks oddly familiar…”

“Hm.” You check your eyeliner wings in your reflection in the cash register screen. From what you can tell, they’re every bit as tragically asymmetrical as you remembered. Spectacular.

“Staring won’t make it better,” Kevin notes, very unhelpfully.

“I know,” you reply, miserable, toying with your bangs so you can hide behind them.

“How does that even happen? The right one is practically a 90-degree angle. The left one looks like you drew it on with a Sharpie.”

You groan. “I’ll try to scrub them off during my break.”

“If you’re not too busy helping me sweep glass off the floor, sure,” Kevin says. “I told you, I took an electrical engineering class as an elective once. I could totally take a look at your bathroom.”

“I thought you said you failed that class.”

“No, I said I got a D in that class. Ds aren’t failing.”

“Well now you’ve convinced me.” You scrutinize your reflection again, frowning. You rent a rather dilapidated one-bedroom apartment above a bakery just a few blocks from the Yankee Candle shop. The apartment always smells like powdered sugar and baking bread, which you like. What you don’t like is everything else about it: the peeling paint, the low water pressure, the windows that you can’t wrestle open, the occasional mice, the shoddy electrical wiring. On any given day, there’s an approximately 27% chance that the bathroom light won’t turn on when you flip the switch. This morning you had been on the losing side of those odds, and with the only mirror in the apartment being the one mounted over the sink—and the overcast November skies outside offering painfully little natural light—you had haphazardly guesstimated your way through your makeup routine before dashing off to work. Your guesstimation skills, apparently, are not all that great.

“If he’s The Wizard of Oz...” Kevin points his broom handle from the snickering moustached man to the gangly, poodle-haired one who has been trying to decide between two candles—Christmas Cookie and Cinnamon Stick—for twelve uninterrupted minutes. He’s wearing a parka spotted with patches: a NASA emblem, a soaring rocket, a smiling green extraterrestrial face, Saturn and its rings. “That guy’s gotta be Star Wars.”

“Or Alien,” you suggest, clutching your chest and pretending to die melodramatically.

Kevin laughs. “2001: A Space Odyssey.”

“Close Encounters of The Third Kind.”

“What about that one?” Kevin nods to the guy who has large blue eyes and bleach-blond, fried tufts of hair sticking out in every direction and a grin that is simultaneously childish and foxlike. Under Pressure comes on the shop speakers, and the British men all start cheering and high-fiving each other, leaving their candles momentarily tucked under their arms or quivering precariously on the edges of wooden display tables. You are entirely mystified. “God, he’s gorgeous.”

“Bye Bye Birdie,” you decide. “Beautiful. Charming. Beloved by all. Perhaps a little dangerous. I can picture teenage girls sobbing themselves to sleep as he gallantly marches off to war.”

“You think he’s gay?” Kevin asks hopefully.

“I don’t think he’s dressed well enough for that.” The blond man is wearing a shapeless, polka-dotted sweater that has ‘NIVEA’ spelled across the front, for reasons that are difficult to fathom.

Kevin sighs, crestfallen. He suffered a nasty breakup with his boyfriend Patrick two weeks ago, and is enthusiastically on the hunt for a rebound to distract him. “You’re probably right. Okay, last but not least.” Kevin aims his broom handle at the fourth and final British stranger. “What shall we call him?”

You consider the man who has wandered away from the others. He’s wearing Levi’s, a black bomber jacket, aviator sunglasses, a mop of unwrangled auburn hair, thoughtful lines that break around the corners of his hidden eyes. He is browsing unhurriedly, perhaps even distractedly, through the fruit-scented candles. He picks up a jar of Macintosh Apple, sniffs a few times, then sets it back down precisely where he found it. He even spins the jar so it’s label-side-facing-outwards again. You warm to him immediately.  

“One of the James Bond movies?” Kevin offers. “He seems…enigmatic somehow. Esoteric. Yet still clearly leading man material.”

“Casablanca,” you say, not tearing your gaze from the stranger. “I can imagine him waving off some old flame on a foggy, night-draped airport runway, breaking hearts with sparse words of wisdom. Can’t you?”

“Oh, that’s exactly right!” Kevin sighs again, dreamily, yearningly. And whether he’s yearning for his ex-boyfriend Patrick or Bye Bye Birdie a.k.a. NIVEA-sweater man or passion or sex or love or maybe just the ineffable high that accompanies the beginnings of things, you couldn’t say.

You peer at your reflection in the cash register screen once again, feeling more self-conscious than ever. “Maybe if I—”

“Freddie!” Star Wars cries, and you whirl just in time to see The Wizard of Oz, whizzing around and giggling and preoccupied with teasing NIVEA-sweater man, stumble into the six-foot-tall tower of Christmas Tree-scented candles and send countless jars crashing to the tile floor.

“I knew it!” you unleash in a rush of misery and exasperation, the biting threat of tears in your eyes and the back of your throat. And of course, it isn’t just about the mess on the floor, it isn’t just about having to tell your manager and hoping to God he doesn’t fire you. It’s about your derelict apartment, it’s about your fucked up eyeliner, it’s about everything that’s happened in the past eighteen months; it’s about the never-ending feelings of helplessness and inertia and predestined ruin, it’s about not being able to get fifteen meters down the street before life throws up another red light, another jagged sinkhole gaping like ravenous jaws. And none of that is these ridiculous British men’s fault; yet still, in that moment the fury you feel towards them is overwhelming.

“Jesus christ,” Kevin mumbles, stepping out from behind the counter to survey the damage, his hands still clutching the broom and dustbin.

“You couldn’t just mosey around and ask which candles are on sale and maybe sniff one or two like a normal person?!” you explode. “You had to come in here acting like goddamn animals and destroy like a third of our inventory?!”

“I’m so sorry,” The Wizard of Oz sputters, looking at you and Kevin with wide, profusely apologetic dark eyes. Star Wars and NIVEA-sweater man are helping him to his feet, albeit with very spirited chidings. Kevin is grudgingly asking if he’s alright. Casablanca is already trying to sort through which candles are broken and putting those that survived aside. And when he casts furtive glances from behind his aviator sunglasses, they’re directed not at Kevin or The Wizard of Oz but at you.

“Freddie, bloody hell,” NIVEA-sweater man laments.

“I’ll pay for them all,” The Wizard of Oz tells you. “I’m so, so, so terribly sorry, you’re absolutely right to be cross with me, and I’ll pay for everything. Here, let me get my wallet…” He digs around in the pockets of his preposterously tight red leather pants.

“Uh…sir…” Kevin begins uncertainly, not wanting to break the bad news.

“It’s going to be hundreds of dollars,” you inform The Wizard of Oz. “Maybe over a thousand. You’re really going to pay that? Or are you just going to wait until we start sweeping up and then sprint out the front door the first chance you get?”

“Hey,” Kevin warns you quietly. He wants you to keep this job probably even more than you do. You are, by his own admission, far and away his favorite coworker.

“No, no, darling, please, let her scold me, I deserve it.” The Wizard of Oz at last locates his wallet. He sashays to the counter, brushing nuggets of glittering glass off his clothes, and counts out two thousand Canadian dollars in hundreds. “Will that do? You can keep the change as compensation for the inconvenience. And we’ll help clean up as well, has anyone got an extra broom?”

As you stare down at the money, shocked into speechlessness, three hulking men dressed in black come barreling into the shop.

“Lord in heaven, Freddie, what happened?!” one asks. He has a thick beard and an Irish accent and closely resembles a grizzly bear.

“I made a complete ass out of myself and am now trying to win the affections of this marvelous creature,” The Wizard of Oz replies, flourishing a hand towards you. “Is it working, dear?”

“Kind of,” you admit, still stunned.

“Oh my god.” The broom tumbles out of Kevin’s grasp and clatters on the floor. He points at The Wizard of Oz. “I know where I’ve seen you before. You…you…you’re Freddie Mercury, right?”

In reply, The Wizard of Oz only flashes an enormous, toothy, dazzling grin.

“Oh my god,” Kevin says again, a starry, awed smile rippling across his round face.

“Please don’t make his ego any bigger,” Star Wars pleads.

“And you’re Brian May!” Kevin replies. “And you’re…” He turns to NIVEA-sweater man, snapping his fingers, trying to remember. “Robbie…no, Ronnie…uh…Ricky…?”

“Roger Taylor.” But it comes out like ‘Rogah Taylah.’ NIVEA-sweater man extends a hand for Kevin to shake, not the least bit offended. “It’s a pleasure. Sorry about the candles.”

“No problem, sir!” Kevin squeaks as he takes Roger’s hand, beaming. The men in black—the band’s security, you’ve gathered—have descended upon the crime scene, confiscated Kevin’s broom and dustbin, and are rapidly clearing glass and chunks of candlewax from the floor and discarding the mess in a trash bin that usually collects only chewed gum and unwanted receipts.

“So I guess I probably shouldn’t have yelled at you,” you tell Freddie Mercury guiltily, all the venom in your voice evaporated. You’re no Queen superfan, true, but everyone knows the words to Bohemian Rhapsody and We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions. And Another One Bites The Dust. And Killer Queen. And Crazy Little Thing Called Love. And Somebody To Love. Your thoughts are suddenly a racing, indecipherable blur. Your knees are boneless. You’ve never met a celebrity before. Well, not unless you count professional hockey players, which you definitely don’t.

“No, you absolutely should have,” Freddie retorts. “I was dreadfully discourteous. I’m positively mortified about it. I should be punished severely. Have you got anything behind the counter to whip me with? A riding crop, perhaps?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not that I know of. I’m sorry I called you an animal.”

“I’m sorry about the candles. There, now we’re even. Wait, not quite yet.” He calls over to Kevin: “Darling, how would you and your friend like front row seats at our show tonight?”

The squeal that bursts out of Kevin is not human.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Freddie Mercury says, very pleased.

“This is really too generous of you,” you protest, although your heart isn’t in it; Kevin might legitimately strangle you if you screw this up, and you’re finding that you want to see Queen in concert too. It’s something to interrupt the powerless, unrelenting monotony; it’s like something that might happen in a movie or a dream.

“Nonsense!” Freddie announces cheerfully. Star Wars and NIVEA-sweater man—or, rather, Brian and Roger—are chatting with the security guys and nodding along as the bearlike Irishman reviews the day’s itinerary.

You peer over at Casablanca. Now that the floor is mostly clear, he’s migrating towards you and Freddie. You glance apprehensively down at your reflection. “Goddammit,” you mutter, manipulating your bangs again, wishing you could disappear. “I meet a rock star for the first time ever and I look like this.”

“It’s not that bad,” Kevin says, obviously lying.

“I like it,” Freddie tells you, propping his elbows on the counter and resting his chin on his knuckles. “It’s very goth raccoon chic.”

“My bathroom light wouldn’t turn on this morning and I was late for work and I guesstimated and that was clearly a poor decision.” Poor decisions are my expertise, you think instinctively, and feel a tug of something you don’t quite have the words for. Shame, grief, disappointment, a raw sting like a flame beneath your palm, a dread like a child who’s lost their mother’s hand.  

“I’ve offered to take a look at the wiring!” Kevin exclaims. “I told you, a D is passing!”

“Kev, babe,” you reply. “I really, truly appreciate your enthusiasm, but you’ll probably just make it worse. And then my landlord will hate me and keep my security deposit and write me awful references and I’ll have to live in an endless string of ancient, hideous apartments until I die.”

“It’s an electrical problem?” Casablanca asks, pushing his aviator sunglasses up into his unruly hair. His unveiled eyes are a blueish grey—they remind you of one of the candles, maybe Beach Walk or Bahama Breeze—and very direct. He stares at you and you stare back, and at some point you realize that everyone is waiting for you to answer.

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess so. Sometimes nothing happens when I flip the switch. That’s the extent of my handyman knowledge, unfortunately.”

Casablanca nods. “I could take a look, if you like.”

Not Beach Walk. Not Bahama Breeze. Warm Luxe Cashmere, maybe. “Now that really is too generous. I couldn’t possibly put a rock star to work on my terrible apartment.”

“John’s got a degree in electrical engineering, that’s right in his wheelhouse,” Brian counters.

“Yes,” Roger says, grinning, teasing in a way that has absolutely no malice in it. “He’s more of an engineer than a rock star anyway, isn’t he?”

“Seriously?” Casablanca—John, you mentally correct yourself—doesn’t seem much like an electrical engineer. But Roger’s right: he doesn’t really seem like a rock star, either. What John seems like is steady and abiding and perceptive, attentive, unflinching. He studies you like some people study paintings, like you once studied paintings; not in a passing-by-in-a-crowded-hallway type way but in a patient way, a methodical way, with the quiet that comes from knowing that vision in the frame is older than you will ever be and will still be hanging on that wall when you’re bones in a box somewhere.

Freddie lights a cigarette and puffs on it decadently. Smoking definitely isn’t allowed inside the Yankee Candle shop, but you aren’t about to snap at Freddie Mercury for the second time today. “Oh, let him tinker around in your flat, darling. It’ll make his day.”

“Is it far?” John asks you.

“No, really, Casa…uh, I mean, John, I appreciate the offer more than I could possibly express but I—”

“It’s just a few blocks north,” Kevin says, and tosses you a wily smile.

“How convenient!” Freddie trills. “When does your shift end, dear?”

“Not until 5:30.”

“She can take a long lunch break.” Another smile from Kevin. “Honestly, there’s not much to do around here now that the Great Candle Massacre of 1981 has been remediated.”

“Splendid!” Freddie says, radiant.

You shake your head, very slowly. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Then you clearly haven’t lived enough,” Freddie quips.

“Fred!” Roger presses. “Are we going to the bookstore down the street or not? That was the whole deal, we suffer through your candles, you suffer through our books.”

“You didn’t seem to be suffering,” Brian says.

“Of course I’m suffering. That cashier over there almost murdered me,” Roger slings back.  

Freddie sighs and rolls his large, dark, expressive eyes. “Yes, darling, of course, don’t give yourself an aneurism. We’ll go to the bookstore, John can rendezvous with us later.” Now he turns to you. “We’ll send a car to your flat at 7 to pick you and Kevin up for the show tonight. Don’t let John leave without knowing your address. Wear something deliciously opulent. Lots of sparkle. Maybe furs.”

“I make eight dollars an hour,” you tell him.  

“Or you could just wear nothing.”

“Sparkle and furs it is.”

Freddie chuckles and turns to the men in black. “Chubby, my dear?”

The towering bearlike Irishman replies: “Yeah, I’ll go with John. Don’t wreck anything else while I’m gone. Don’t get yourselves deported before the show. EMI will have your heads on spikes.”

Freddie pretends to be scandalized. “Causing destruction? We would never.” He saunters towards the shop door, jingling the bells as he swings it open, and waves like royalty. “See you tonight, darlings!”

“Bye!” Kevin shouts after him. And then, after Freddie, Roger, Brian, and the two non-bearlike men in black have departed: “Oh my god I just met Freddie Mercury and he’s amazing and he knows I exist and he spoke to me and tonight he’s sending a car to take me to a concert and I’m going to have front row seats and what if he invites me to have a drink afterwards oh my god.”

John, evidently unaffected, prompts you: “So your place is just a few blocks away?”

“Yeah. Just let me get my coat…”

The man in black—Chubby, as Freddie had introduced him—fetches your coat off the rack by the door and holds it up so you can slip inside it. No one has ever done that for you before.

“…Thanks…?” You button your coat, feeling a little like royalty yourself at the moment.

John pulls open the door, the tiny metal bells jangling, and gestures out into the streets of downtown Montreal. He’s wearing his aviator sunglasses again; the November wind gusts through his hair. You catch threadbare ghosts of cigarette smoke and cologne that the breeze lifts from his skin like pages of a book. And he smiles, just barely. “After you.”

You walk north together along the path of the sidewalk with your hands in your pockets, your breath fog in the cold, weaving through the bustling crowds of tourists and holiday shoppers, Chubby trailing not far behind and displaying his talent for keeping watch while not letting on that he is. To even your own horror, you can’t seem to shut up.

“John, this is so kind of you, this is completely unnecessary, you really shouldn’t feel like you owe me anything because Freddie already paid for the candles twice over and I was totally unprofessional for yelling at customers, even annoying customers, and Kevin and I are already getting a free concert tonight and so—”

“Okay,” John says firmly. “You have to talk about something else now.”

“I can’t talk about anything else. All I can think about is how ridiculous this is.”

“Have you lived in Montreal long?” he asks, very casually, as if you’re strangers in line next to each other at Starbucks.

“My whole life.” Minus a little over three years, but you don’t need to get into that. “My parents live over in Verdun, right on the St. Lawrence River.

“Sounds scenic.”

“It certainly is.��� You’re trying not to look at John, because every time you do it’s hard to stop. You look at the cars rolling by instead. “This is super embarrassing, and I don’t mean to offend you, but what exactly do you do in Queen?”

He’s not offended; he thinks it’s hilarious. “I’m the bassist.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, bassists are quiet and reliable or whatever. Bassists don’t terrorize Yankee Candle employees.”

“You’re not a Queen fan?”

“I’m a casual and appreciative listener, but I wouldn’t call myself a fan. I couldn’t pick any of you out of a lineup, clearly. Roger is the drummer, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Drummers are feral, almost universally. Which means Brian must be lead guitar.”

“And what do you think of lead guitarists?”

“Word on the street is that they are brilliant yet micromanaging egomaniacs, but I don’t want to bash your friend or anything.”

John chuckles, like there’s some joke you aren’t in on yet. “No, please, bash away. So you prefer bassists.”

And finally you do look at him, and you regret it immediately; because now you’re caught in the thoughtful crinkles around his eyes and the barely-there stubble of his cheeks and the playful curve of his lips and how the wind ruffles his auburn hair the same way it steals leaves off of slumbering trees. You almost walk right past the bakery. “Oh, wait, we’re here.”

You lead John and Chubby upstairs to your chronically irritating apartment. John removes his sunglasses, inspects your bathroom light switch, then asks if you have a specific kind of screwdriver. You bring him the toolkit that has lived beneath the kitchen sink since before you moved in and he roots around, finds what he’s searching for, and unfastens the light switch plate from the wall.

“Please don’t electrocute yourself,” you fret, as Chubby meanders around in the living room and tries not to intrude. “If you die your groupies will never forgive me.”

“Who says I’ve got groupies?” John replies, amused.

“I just assumed all rock stars do.” Your eyes flick down to his hands as he fidgets with the wiring; and you notice randomly—or, maybe, not all that randomly—that he’s not wearing a ring. You’re still ruminating over that when he returns the light switch plate to the wall, secures each of the four screws with a few deft twists of his wrist, and performs a test flip. The light turns on immediately.

“Mission accomplished,” John says mildly.

“What?! No, no way, no freaking way.” You flip the switch again. The light turns off and on obediently. You try it at least five more times. Perfection. “…How?!”

“Just a few loose wires. No great hardship.” He tucks the screwdriver back into the toolkit.  

You gape at him. “That took you…like…two minutes.”

“Aren’t you glad my band wandered into your candle shop and almost demolished the place today?” He rests his hands on his waist; his sturdy, skillful, ringless hands. “Anything else I can fix for you?”

“Definitely not.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He stares at you. You stare back.

“Stop looking at my fucked up eyeliner.”

John laughs. It’s a delightfully clear, disarming sound. “That’s not what I was doing.”  

“I should fix my makeup and go back to work now. And you should probably go help your friends burn down the bookstore or blow up a Starbucks or do whatever else is on your agenda for today.”

“Soundcheck and dinner, actually,” John says. He slides the toolkit back beneath your kitchen sink, meets Chubby by the front door, and pauses there to give you one last lingering, laden gaze. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“In my best furs,” you purr in your most convincing Freddie Mercury impression.

“Or nothing at all,” John suggests levelly. And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

It turns out better than you thought it would. Your tan, knee-high suede boots are celebratory without being too uncomfortable. Kevin brings you a faux fur jacket that he stole from Patrick during the breakup. You find a glittery black dress in the back of your closet that you once loved, then couldn’t stand to look at, then forgot existed entirely; but tonight it’s like you’re seeing it with brand new eyes. It fits even better than you remember. In the mirror, you look like a stranger and a hauntingly familiar acquaintance and yourself all at once.

Chubby arrives in a black limousine at precisely 7pm, parks along the curb next to the bakery, and honks the horn twice. You and Kevin dash down the narrow steps and climb into the backseat, finding complimentary cigarettes and bottled water and chilled champagne. As the limo rolls though Montreal under changing traffic lights, Kevin prattles on about the band, their history, their albums, their tours…and John in particular. He tries to tempt you. You resist valiantly…for the first fifteen minutes, anyway.

Finally, you sigh in capitulation. “Okay. Fine. I get it. What do you know about him?”

“I know he’s divorced,” Kevin says, wiggling his eyebrows. “I saw it on the cover of a tabloid a while back. Very contentious, spicy stuff. He’s got like eight kids.”

“He does not have eight kids!”

“Okay, maybe not eight. But he has a lot,” Kevin insists.

You rearrange your hair with deliberate flippantness. “What do I care if he’s divorced?”

Kevin grins. “You know why you care.”

“Stop,” you plead.

“Look, all I’m saying is that he definitely likes you. And you like him. And I haven’t seen you like anybody, ever, in the…wait, let me count…the nine whole months that I’ve known you. When was the last time you even had a boyfriend? When was the last time you got laid? Oh my god, it hasn’t been nine months, has it?! That’s way too long to go without sex. No wonder you’re so serious all the time. It all makes sense now. You poor thing. You’re in dick withdrawal.”

“Assuming that’s my problem—which it isn’t, by the way—if I wanted to get laid there are far easier ways to accomplish that.”

“Sure,” Kevin says. “But you don’t want just any dick. You want British bassist dick. John Deacon dick. Casablanca dick.”

“This friendship is terminated.”

Kevin cackles, pouring himself a glass of champagne that bubbles over the top and spills onto the limo floor. “I’m really glad you’re here with me. I’m glad we can do this together.”

You fill a champagne flute with bottled water and clink your glass against his, smiling. The limo is turning into the parking lot of the Montreal Forum. “Me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The backstage room that Chubby escorts you and Kevin to after the show is full of chatter and heavy smoke and roadies and fans and musicians and journalists, trays of hors d'oeuvres, wine and Stella Artois and vodka and tequila and rum, the electric promise of things that will go unmentioned in the morning. There are stacks of stereo speakers in the corner rumbling out Another One Bites The Dust. You and Kevin camp out on a green velvet couch—making small talk with each other to avoid making it with anyone else—until the band arrives.

John is still wearing his concert outfit: blue pants, blue shirt, a black leather jacket that gives him an edge like a knife. He passes out a few polite nods; but Freddie and Roger are undeniably the suns in this room, and the guests their planets. Freddie is soon surrounded by a constellation of followers and whisks Kevin away with him. John, meanwhile, comes straight to where you’re sitting on the couch and stands in front of you with his messy hair and his veil of cologne and his mystery-candle-blue eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks in that calm, measured way that you’ve learned he has. “Rum and Coke? Moscow Mule? Hurricane? I’ve been on a mojito kick recently.”

“I don’t drink.” And you wait for the inevitable awkwardness that usually follows that sentence, when he says why? or seriously? or maybe just oh in wilted disappointment.

Instead, what John says is this: “No problem. Rum minus the Coke?”

You smile up at him. You can’t help yourself. “That would be perfect.”

There are innumerable drinks already poured on a table, dark carbonated liquid trembling in red plastic cups as the bass from the stereo speakers quakes through the crowded, droning, smoke-hazed room. John moves from cup to cup, taking tentative sips before shaking his head and putting them back down on the table. After each attempt, he casts you a rueful smirk before continuing on to the next cup. At last, he finds two unadulterated Cokes and brings them to the couch: one for you, and one for him. He sits beside you with one of his legs crossed over the other, a lit cigarette in his right hand, a red plastic cup of Coke in his left, and his eyes on you in a way that isn’t hungry or arrogant or restless but merely, benignly contemplative. You find yourself thinking of paintings in museums again, you even start to feel a little like one; and you wonder what colors he sees in you, what types of brushstrokes, what signatures scribbled in the corners of the canvas, what shadows painstakingly penciled in to mimic the angles of the sun.

You tell John about growing up in Montreal, about autumn strolls along the St. Lawrence River, about snowfalls and Mont-Royal and Chinatown and the Notre-Dame Basilica, about the exhilarating turmoil of the Summer Olympics in 1976. You tell him about how Kevin is in his last year at Concordia University and works part-time at the Yankee Candle shop for money to invest in his hair gel and travel fund. You tell him so many things he doesn’t notice all the parts you leave out. In return, John tells you about himself; not about John Deacon the bassist of Queen, but about the understated man who likes cars and electronics and the Beatles and tea in the evenings beside a roaring fireplace. And when his arm comes to rest on the back of the green velvet couch, and then across your shoulders, and then around your waist, it doesn’t feel strange at all. You lean into him as you exchange stories and clandestine giggles until you’re nearly in his lap, and that doesn’t feel strange either. And you haven’t had a drop of alcohol—you haven’t in almost a full year, in fact—but you feel a little drunk tonight, because your cheeks are hot and the room is blurry and the world is brimming with a pure, rose-gold, uncomplicated happiness.

The other band members periodically stop by to say hello, clutching their drinks and making stilted pleasantries as you and John smile drowsily up at them, looking nothing like the soberest people in the room. Chubby and the rest of the men in black are simultaneously omnipresent and scarce, which you are beginning to think is a requirement inked into their job description. Kevin, having been fully absorbed into Freddie’s entourage, is beaming and flushed and extremely, blissfully tipsy. And they all watch you and John not with scandalized sideways glances but with warm approval swimming in their gleaming eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you yet,” you tell John when you are alone again. “For improving my dreadful apartment. So thank you. You really didn’t have to do that. I hate that I marred your time in Montreal with unpaid labor.”

He shrugs it off. “I like fixing things. It’s what I’m best at.”

“Besides being an internationally acclaimed rock star, you mean.”

“I’m honestly not so sure I’m cut out for the rock star life.”

“You are, though. I saw you. I watched you all night.”

John just stares at you, and then he leans in even closer, inhaling deeply. You can feel the heat of his breath on your collarbone, your shoulder, your neck; goosebumps spring up across your skin like stars at twilight. “What the hell is that? Perfume? Lotion? Shampoo?”

“It’s probably sugar and baking bread, because I live on top of a bakery.”

“Does Yankee Candle make anything that smells like you?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “They definitely do not.”

“They should,” John murmurs. And with the rough whirlpools of his fingertips he turns your face to his so he can kiss you.

It should be kind of humiliating, right? Making out with some guy you just met on a green couch in front of thirty strangers, your hands getting tangled in each other’s hair, your lips meeting again and again, taunting darts of the tongue and quick painless bites and stifled moans and grasping tugs at clothes that you’re starting to wish weren’t there at all. It should feel embarrassing, you should feel overexposed, here in this land of unfamiliar expectations and accents and faces. But no one seems to be watching too closely. This must be so tame in the world of rock stars, it occurs to you; almost wholesome. And you can’t remember a time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“There’s a pool table in the next room,” someone says, startling you, and you break away from John to discover Roger perched on the arm of the couch, grinning coyly as he sips his emerald glass bottle of Stella Artois. “I mean…you know. If you’re into that. John’s got all sorts of moves, we played for days at a time at Ridge Farm. You could challenge him to a round or two. Place bets. But be warned…he’s a total pool shark.”

“Is he?” you ask mischievously, clasping the lapel of John’s leather jacket. Even if you freed him, he shows no indication of retreating. He’s raking his knuckles back and forth along the length of your thigh that your little black dress leaves exposed, never venturing above the hem.  

Roger winks. “Just thought you might want to know.” Then he hops off the couch and disappears into the crowd again.

John is trying to keep his eyes locked on yours, and no lower. He’s trying to not be even vanishingly forceful. He’s trying not to sway you. But you know exactly what he wants. “Do you…?”

“Show me how to play pool,” you whisper. And you lead him through the shuffling bodies and boisterous, increasingly intoxicated laughter and cumulus clouds of cigarette smoke to the door on the other side of the room.

Beyond the threshold you find a pool table and not much else. It’s terribly unceremonious; it’s absolutely perfect. You can hear Blondie’s Call Me playing back in the packed room where the rest of the band is still reveling, the bass crawling through the walls to radiate in your eardrums, your bones. You lock the door and reach out to flick off the harsh florescent lights, but John stops you. You don’t have to ask him why. He wants to be able to see you. He asks if this is okay—again, wordlessly, with the forthright blue of his eyes—and you nod. And then he kisses you as you drag him in, breathing in his cologne and nicotine, tasting the virgin Coke on his lips that he drank just for you.

John tears off his leather jacket. You toss the faux fur that Kevin lent you to the floor. You climb up onto the pool table, and John follows you. You yank off his shirt, link your suede boots around him as he positions himself between your naked, down-soft thighs. And then John stops.

“Look, I have to be honest,” he says. His hands tremble as they cradle the small of your back, just barely. “I’m newly divorced, and I’m really out of practice, I mean really out of practice, and this is not at all my usual way of doing things, and if I’m total rubbish or only last like thirty seconds or something I just want to apologize in advance and swear that I’ll do absolutely everything I can to make this worth it for you. Because I like you. I really, really like you.”

“I’m a little rusty too,” you confess with a small, sheepish smile. But he doesn’t need to know exactly how rusty you are, or in how many ways, all those layers of blood-hued ruin that spin webs from the skin down to the marrow.

John seems relieved. “Then maybe we’re even.”

You’re not even, you’re nowhere close; but it’s comforting that he thinks you could be.

John kisses you again. His hands find the zipper on the back of your dress, and then the tiny metal clasp of your bra, and then the black lace of your panties…and then everything else as well.

~~~~~~~~~~

Afterwards, you return together to the green velvet couch in the next room, not with bashful swiftness but with your hands entwined, your eyes satiated and calm, your clothes unapologetically rumpled. The partying is winding down. The song pouring through the stereo speakers is In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins. And now you and John don’t talk very much at all; you just sit there with fresh cups of Coke, your head resting against his chest, his left arm draped around you, watching the rest of the universe spin on like a carousel as your feet stay rooted to the earth.

“So you’re the smart one,” you say eventually. “You must be, with an electrical engineering degree.”

“You’d be surprised. We’re rather erudite, as far as rock stars go.” He smiles drowsily down at you. “Freddie’s got a degree in graphic art and design. Roger has one in biology. Brian has the better part of a PhD in astrophysics. He might even go back to finish it one day. He probably will, just to be able to lord it over us.”

“Wow,” you reply, distantly, suddenly feeling very small.

“What did you study?” he asks you.

In truth, you never finished college; but you aren’t going to tell John that. “Something useless.”

John is intrigued, and perhaps a little concerned as well. His brow furrows with grooves like lines of fortune in an open palm.

“I wanted to be a painter,” you explain, smirking at the absurdity. “But the world doesn’t need painters anymore. They have pictures and videos that are just as clear as real life. They don’t need my fantasies or interpretations. They have reality.”

“I think we still need painters,” John disagrees, his calloused fingertips tracing lazy circles around your bare shoulder.

“Really?”

“Yeah. For when reality requires improving.”

You let a few moments of silence tick by. And then you put on your faux fur jacket, finish the last of your Coke, stand and find your balance on the low heels of your boots with exhausted, shaky calves.

John jolts upright, somewhat alarmed. “Hey, you don’t have to—”

“This was great, John. This was the best night I’ve had in a long time. So thank you for that. But I have to go home now.”

“Okay.” He studies you, processing. “Okay, okay. I’ll have Chubby drive you.”

“That’s really not necessary, I can get a cab…”

But John has already waved Chubby over, and the massive man appears serendipitously with an impossible degree of stealth. Kevin finds you, staggering, babbling breathlessly about all of his adventures, showing you where Freddie and Roger and Brian signed his chest with a black Sharpie, repeating the same stories on an identical loop every few minutes. As you leave, you offer John a brief parting wave; and he returns it, like a reflection in a mirror, but he’s wearing a pensive frown and eyes dark with thought. Then again, maybe you are too.

Chubby leads you and Kevin outside to the waiting limousine. You slip into the backseat, ply Kevin with bottled water, open the sunroof so moonlight and cold, reviving November air can flood in like a river.

Kevin is coming down now from the high of the champagne and the concert and the carousing with Freddie Mercury. He blinks, soaking you in, really seeing you for the first time in hours. “Wow, you had a good night with Casablanca. You had a really good night.”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, resting your head against the window and watching the stars and streetlights pass by above like seasons. “And it will never happen again.”

[hippiechicjewelz-blog]

Late Night Friday Finds on Artfire

Late Night Friday Finds on Artfire

The holidays are fast approaching, and I absolutely love shopping for unique, handmade items. That is what I love about Artfire, you can find the most amazing and unique items and know that you are supporting an artist and helping make their dream of entrepreneurship come true.

I  have always been a beauty buff, I love beauty products especially those that are not mass produced.  It is my…