Paruvea Latte Veil Extrait de Parfum review**, aka The Kraken Wakes (up) and doesn't smell the coffee!

 

 

  ** Eventually...feel free to scroll on down past the "missing in action" preamble to the review itself...

This must be the all-time longest hiatus in the history of Bonkers about Perfume. To be honest, over the last six months I really thought I had shot my blogging bolt: not so much in terms of my personal relationship with perfume, which is ongoing, albeit in a smaller orbit of mostly familiar scents rather than new releases, but rather in terms of my public one. So many reviewers have shifted to short form videos on YouTube and TikTok that I felt rather out of step with the reviewing community, as well as out of touch with the brands themselves. Now and then a perfume house would still "reach out" to me, but by and large I sensed that the PR waters had long since closed over my head, and this despite being the sixth best perfume blog in Australia, haha. Some of my blogging peers and friends from 2010 or so have long since retired - as I thought I had too, to be honest - while others have been catapulted to fame as fragrance experts and influencers, their success richly deserved. Meanwhile, I felt in a strange kind of middle ground limbo, though friends and family have periodically poked me into action every so often. Here's a quick run down of what I have been up to, fragrance-wise, this year:

- A friend gave me a discovery set from The Saltworks in Ramsgate, which I worked through before donating it to my SIL.

- Another one gave me a small bottle of M & S Frangipani perfume, which prompted me to explore their latest offerings. The exquisitely packaged Fragonard and Monotheme ranges are a welcome addition, and I particularly liked Fleur Citronnier, Tuberose, and White Gardenia, if my memory serves me. Definitely worth another sampling session.

- The son of my late father's carer asked me for my opinion on Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille(!). 

- I caught a delightful whiff of a man in the book section of a local charity shop. I channelled Michael Mosley (who famously advocated making small talk with strangers on a daily basis for the alleged mental health benefits to both parties), and asked him what  he was wearing - Paco Rabanne Million Gold for Him was the answer. Note to self to sniff it in store sometime, as it really turned my head.

- I ran into friends at a gig in March whom I had introduced to Ormonde Jayne about 15 years ago, and they immediately proffered their necks for sniffing. The man was sporting Isfarkand - I had given him a sample of this way back then, and also tipped him the wink recently when the brand was selling off its edp collection for a song, preparatory to restocking with parfum strength. His ex-wife was rocking Nawab of Oudh, which I didn't know, but was so instantly taken with on her that I have since sprung for a travel size spray after first buying a 1ml tester from (I think) Fragrance Samples. I love the reciprocity of our OJ perfume recommendations!

- Then a friend in Belfast mentioned that she only owned two perfumes: Chanel No 5 and Bien-Etre Eau de Cologne Naturelle, a French pharmacy brand, 100ml of which can be had for a tenner! I duly bought a bottle on Amazon, and it smells exactly as I imagined - an astringent and bracing mix of herbal and orange notes, a bit like O de Lancome (supply your own circumflexes) or Guerlain Sous le Vent - and it is so lovely in the heat. I made a big decant from my humongous bottle and gave it to another friend.

- My brother asked me to recommend gardenia perfumes.

- I did a lot of reading around the topic of smelling things as a helpful tactic to prevent dementia! An olfactory prophylactic, if you will. ;) That sounded a heck of a lot easier to me than circuit training, cryptic crosswords, or learning Mandarin.

- I bought a BNIB bottle of Carner Barcelona D600 for £41 on eBay! (See my review here.)

 

How chunkily satisfying is that top?

 

So as you can see, I have not been quite as dormant as the title might suggest, but nor did I feel I had any content quite worthy of a post on its own - till now.

REVIEW ITSELF!

About a month ago I received an email from the Marketing Director of a company I had never heard of called Paruvea. 

"I’m reaching out from Paruvea, an affordable luxury fragrance brand focused on wearable, long-lasting scents with strong storytelling potential."

The apparent oxymoron of "affordable luxury fragrance" piqued my interest. Paruvea also struck me as quite a difficult name to commit to memory or spell, but further inquiries revealed its etymology:

"A name inspired by “Parure” (exquisite adornment) and “Veil”, evokes an ethereal veil of fragrance for the soul—whispering close, never clamorous..."

I was reminded of my "Careful Whispers" series of reviews on subtle, nuanced and quiet scents like Penhaligon's Iris Prima, and my bantering exchange with Undina on this subject, who commented:

"You and your “whispering” hang-up!  Are you sure you even need a perfume? No perfume would stay really close to skin, you know."

So now my curiosity was doubly piqued. The Paruvea range consists of nine Veil perfumes, three for day (Daylight Veils) and three for night (After Dark Veils). I wondered if the seventh Veil to be launched, whichever it was, came with its own dance. They are 30% parfum strength, which took me some time to get my head around, given that the cost is a mere $25.99 for a stonking 100ml.

I accepted the company's offer to send me samples, as long as there was no obligation to review them, as per my usual policy, and I was told that that was fine. Paruvea the brand is headquartered in Gardena, California, not to be confused with the make of hose reels of that name, while the production is done in WiYu in China. This is where my package came from after some time, during which I imagined it (possibly fancifully) negotiating a perilous passage through the Straits of Hormuz.

When the parcel arrived I was surprised to find that instead of a discovery set of samples, the Marketing Director had opted instead to send me a single 100ml bottle of Latte Veil.

 

 

I wrote back to her to inquire what her reasons were for switching tack and received this insightful reply:

"Yes, sending you Latte Veil was intentional. After learning more about your fragrance preferences and blog, we felt it would be the best match for you, so we decided to send a full-size bottle instead of several small samples."

I was impressed by this, as I am so used to cookie cutter approaches from perfume brands, and never expect them to have actually looked at my blog when they say what a good fit their perfume would be for it.

I looked at the bottle and thought that what the Marketing Director did not know, however, was that I don't like coffee. ;) It's been a social handicap my whole life, especially in meetings. Arrive for a 10am appointment in pretty much any country in Europe or further afield, and coffee will be the default drink you are offered. Now I did once try to like it: on New Year's Day, 1980, when my then boyfriend and I agreed that I would have a go at drinking coffee, while he would do his best to give up smoking. We both only lasted about a day with these ambitious resolutions, though in mitigation I was drinking black instant Nescafe, which was a bit of a baptism of fire. This was long before the advent of milkier lattes in Britain, which might have been the way to ease myself in. Strangely I do like coffee cake, one of my many inconsistencies. Also, for many years I didn't like dark chocolate or mint, but have always been partial to After Eights.

As for the box, I was reminded of a somewhat cheaper take on Puredistance's packaging - the bottle is nestling in a silky nest, albeit made of some shiny synthetic material rather than satin. But hey - the whole thing cost £25.99 for 100ml(!) vs Puredistance coming in at 490 euros for the equivalent amount. This is simply incredible value. Then the bottle itself is white and opaque. Long term readers may remember that opaque bottles made it into my "Scent Crimes" series, but once again I will cut Paruvea  slack on the point, as I am not active on the split or selling scene anymore, where ability to detect the fill level of a bottle was a crucial prerequisite of equitable trades.

 

 

Without further ado, here are the notes for Latte Veil - which doesn't smell of coffee, I am pleased to report, though it definitely has that dreamy lactonic quality. The perfume is billed as "Your skin, but creamier", which I really like as a strapline ;), and it is very accurate too.

Top notes: melted caramel ("A smooth, golden opening")

Heart notes: tonka bean, wild honey ("A soft honeyed cloud")

Base notes: Madagascar vanilla, musk ("A clean milky finish")

See? Paruvea have basically written their own review right there. I was instantly transported back to the sadly discontinued Ava Luxe Love's True Bluish Light with its notes of vanilla, musk, milk and amber; LTBL has a similar comforting vibe, but is in a deeper register because of the addition of amber. I am tempted therefore to call Latte Veil "Love's True Whitish Light". 

There are also echoes of Lumiere Blanche by Olfactive Studio (supply your own grave accent), to which Victoria Frolova of Bois de Jasmin introduced me in her flat in Brussels many years ago. That is a cooler and spicier scent, but it is very milky. I still have the couple of tonka beans she gave me somewhere. And the caramel-y facet was also suggestive of Prada Candy. So if you like(d) any of those perfumes - and don't mind a certain level of sweetness with your milkiness - Latte Veil could well be for you. And at that price a blind buy isn't a crazy thing to do, though I would normally discourage such impulsive behaviour. ;)

 

I found Victoria's beans!

 

Later, I had a bit of a wobble about the presence of coumarin in the perfume (from the tonka beans) on account of my less than optimal kidney function, as it is counterindicated for anyone with CKD. My contact at Paruvea kindly disclosed the exact ratio of coumarin in the overall formulation, which I ran past one of the less hallucinating AI bots I use, who reckoned it was highly unlikely to do me a mischief, for all sorts of "biotransformative" reasons, the precise ins and outs of which I will spare you.

Lastly, I had an interesting exchange with Paruvea about their creative and marketing strategy:

"Regarding the creative direction behind the brand, Paruvea was built around the idea that fragrance should feel personal, emotional, and memory-driven rather than purely trend-led." 

I could see how the concept of perfume as an enveloping and comforting veil would fit with this. In the "About" section on their website, Paruvea explain the creative principle behind the brand in more detail:

"You’re also right in your interpretation of our pricing philosophy. Our goal is to make extrait-style fragrance more accessible, rather than positioning it only as an ultra-exclusive luxury product. We believe much of traditional fragrance pricing is shaped by prestige, distribution, packaging, and luxury positioning. Paruvea’s approach is to offer a long-lasting, high-concentration fragrance experience at a more approachable price point by keeping the model simpler and more direct."

It's a brave and unusual stance for a standalone brand to take a "budget luxury" positioning at this concentration, as opposed to the likes of M & S, Zara, Lidl, Home Bargains etc, who offer cut price perfumes at weaker formulations - and in the case of the latter three, also dupes of designer fragrances. I haven't personally come across this particular marketing model, which is more akin to a "poor man's Puredistance", as it were, and I mean that as a compliment.

If I had to sum up Latte Veil in two words - which admittedly no one is asking me to do - I would go with "honeyed tonka". Funnily enough, a good friend has a dog called Tonks, so I can think of no better way to finish this post than with a photo of her.

 

Ladies that brunch: featuring redemptive French toast and a rose scent recce with OT's Birgit and Tara

Source: Foxcroft & Ginger

It is almost exactly a year to the day that I set off for Berlin, the first stop on The Monochrome Set's 2014 spring tour. On a whim at the airport, and notwithstanding the preternatural sparrow's fart of an hour in question, I decided to have breakfast, and was promptly confronted with an absolute travesty of a dish calling itself French toast. So remote was this all-but-eggless, deep fried monstrosity from the fluffy primrose layers of my recall, that the chef apologised profusely and gave me a full refund.

And now, here I was in Soho, cosily tucked into a corner of the edgily named cafe Foxcroft & Ginger - which I persisted in referring to as Foxtrot & Ginger, even though I neither dance nor have occasion to use police radio - with Birgit and Tara of Olfactoria's Travels, when I spied a French toast option on the menu for the first time since that fateful meal at Frankie & Benny's.

But I am running ahead of myself...there is a bit to say about the journey down to London first. For starters, it took a mere hour and twenty minutes this time!, owing to the fact that I had snaffled a Virgin ticket for just two quid more than I would have paid on my usual London Midland service that takes about two and a half hours each way. Also - and readers may find my wonderment surprising - there were refreshments on the train. On the train - fancy that! In an actual buffet car dedicated to the purpose, where a cup of hot chocolate cost 30p less than in the cafe at the station. By the time I had finished marvelling at the amenities of the Virgin service, I had arrived at Euston, and a quarter of an hour later, found myself disgorged from the Underground and standing on a sunny pavement in Soho with Birgit. As we waited for Tara to arrive, we chatted about Tara's recent visit, from which they were newly returned. I also admired Birgit's HSOTD (Hermes Scarf Of The Day: a beautiful cashmere number in shades of grey - I counted more than two, but fewer than totally torrid, hehe. ;) ) I can also reveal that it was tied in a 'cowboy knot' - I thought it might be a style called 'the waterfall', which I saw in a YouTube video once, but I was mistaken. It looks rather like the Maxi Cheche in this link, but with the two outer points tied in a cowboy knot as a last step. A very elegant and relaxed look, anyway.

Source:  Foxcroft & Ginger

Shortly afterwards, Tara popped up and we made straight for Foxcrop & Ginger - I mean Foxcroft...I only finally mastered the name today, would you believe?! - where the waiter directed us to the last available table downstairs. At the far end was a wall of white subway tiles, a sure sign that you are either in a hip and trendy eaterie or a turn of the century public convenience. Menus appraised, the others plumped for Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon, which looked delicious, while of course I had to order the French toast in a bid to exorcise the painful memory of the last one. In fairness, it was more of a French Toast-Croque Monsieur fusion dish, owing to the addition of ham and cheese. Basically, it was the non-pareil of toasted sandwich-like entities, as you can see in the photo.

Unfortunately, we had to be pretty disciplined about the time, as Birgit had a theatre show to catch in the afternoon, however, we did manage to slip in a quick rose scent recce in Liberty, still on the quest of a Holy Grail rose perfume for my friend Jessica. It was great having the combined thinking power of Birgit and Tara and a very helpful male sales assistant as we speed sniffed our way round the perfume hall, scoping the fixtures for rosy inspiration. The top contenders were:

Acqua di Parma Rosa Nobile
Maison de Kurkdjian A la Rose
ODIN Milieu Rose
Keiko Mecheri Attar de Roses
Serges Lutens Fille de Berlin

Jessica is going to check them out on her next trip to the West End, and I will report back on her findings!

After the Liberty detour, we ambled down to Haymarket - or elbowed our way through the crowds, more like. Tara and Birgit lamented the fact that London is a lot more densely populated with tourists than Vienna. After picking up Birgit's ticket, we still had a little while to kill, so we walked round the block, enjoying the sunshine and loitering out of the wind here and there. On one of these street corners, we conducted a side-by-side comparison of Puredistance WHITE on my skin versus Tara's. I had written in my review of how my skin seems to amplify the coumarin facet of the tonka, making for a slightly dry, austere opening, and sure enough, the OT duo agreed that WHITE was 'sharper' on me than on Tara, whose skin seemed to grab the basenotes and go straight to that softer, more dreamy phase of WHITE's development. So to anyone out there who doesn't believe in 'YMMV' skin chemistry, we stick up two empirical fingers at that preposterous notion! Birgit and Tara also sniffed me wearing Opardu, but I will save those musings for a separate post.

Looking stylish despite the strong wind!

All too soon, it was time for the parting of the ways. Birgit and Tara's leavetaking was particularly poignant, as they had been constantly in each other's company for the past week. In time honoured perfumista tradition, I pressed a pair of tea towels on Birgit. I figured they would be thin enough to pack at least. Tara and I then made our way to Harvey Nichols. En route I clocked a number of young girls wearing jeans that were ripped at the knees. I suddenly remembered that the girl who was sitting next to me in the train down had worn a similar pair just like these pictured from New Look, and it was clear to me that denim's answer to self-harming must be a bit of a 'Thing' at the moment. I may be a middle aged old fogey, but I  really don't approve. When that trend is past, you will be left with a pair of foolishly mutilated jeans. It reminded me of that John Hiatt song lamenting those tempestuous rock stars who 'smash a perfectly good guitar'.

Source: New Look

Arriving at Harvey Nichols with a few minutes to spare, Tara and I stopped by Shu Uemura so I could buy a pair of their iconic eyelash curlers. According to Sali Hughes - despite their resemblance to an instrument of medieval torture - eyelash curlers are in fact an indispensable beauty aid for the mature woman, as long as you avoid crimping your lashes into the high kicking pose known as the 'hockey stick'. No danger of that yet awhile. So far I have only mastered one eye(!), and a look I can best describe as 'mildly surprised uplift'. As you can tell, I have been quite surprised lately, what with one thing and another. I kicked myself when I got home for not thinking to bring with me my Shu Uemura Hard Formula brow pencil, so that I could have asked the assistants to whittle it into a 'Samurai sword shape'. Well, that is how it is known, but to my eye it looks more like a canoe paddle or the bill of a platypus. Turns out that the pencil I have is not 09 but 06, which cannot be sharpened in that way anyway. Plus I think it's the wrong colour for my hair (Seal Brown), so in the bin it should go in my next decluttering putsch. Though I know I will struggle to throw away a 'perfectly good eyebrow pencil', if colour wasn't so key.

The sublimely sultry Tara

After roaming aimlessly round the top floor of Harvey Nichols, Tara and I eventually found the 'green bar' where we were due to meet Liz Moores of Papillon, who had kindly invited us to join her and her daughter Poppy (aka 'Pod')  for a drink. Readers, we could be excused for our failure to locate this stylish watering hole, a) because there seemed to be numerous bars and cafes on the same floor and b) because the seating was predominantly cream, with green accents. And when it came, what a drink it was!

An 'Enchanted Garden' no less, with edible glitter and pansies. I experienced collateral sparkling lip gloss(!) for the rest of the day - I had appreciably more glitter than the others, I should point out. It was, however, an age-inappropriate risk well worth running for the sheer fun factor and intoxicating deliciousness of this cocktail, which featured two kinds of fruit liqueur, vodka and champagne. I am used to drinking my alcohol one variety at a time, so this multiplicity may well have contributed to my feelings of pleasant muzzy-headedness on the train home. Which also took an hour and twenty minutes! A hop and a skip, merely exacerbating the dreamlike sensation I always get whenever I visit London.

Which was compounded further the next day by a 50th birthday party in a Wimpy...

followed by a bracing country yomp in all our finery.

Puredistance WHITE review: honky-tonka yellows and lazy hazy daisies

'Tonka beans blogger's own'

I seem to start every review of a Puredistance scent by saying what a fan I am of the house: their friendly people, their relaxed PR style and unstuffy approach to the very concept of luxury products which is the backbone of the brand. It may not be the case anymore, but for a while there I was the only blogger to have made the trip to their offices, tucked away in a lofty converted church in Groningen, where I  (very loosely) interviewed Jan Ewoud Vos over tea and apple cake. Of the six perfumes they have launched to date, I was very taken with Puredistance 1 and the startlingly upper case BLACK, but didn't get on so well with Opardu, much to my chagrin, as everything about its concept and composition should have appealed. And it wasn't just me - two fellow bloggers have sniffed me wearing it, and pronounced it to be pleasant, but not spectacular - and not to smell of very much beyond a veil of white musk. But more of that anon....my subsequent volte-face on this wistful lilac beauty deserves a post of its own, I sense.

So nowithstanding my underwhelmed reaction to Opardu, I was very excited about the release of WHITE, the capitalised counterpart to BLACK, one infers. It is a tribute to the palpable enthusiasm and verve of the staff at Puredistance that they can still whip me into a fervour of anticipation at this semi-jaded plateau stage in my hobby. I must admit that some of that excitement is due to the exquisite way in which they present their press packs. Well, I wasn't so keen on Opardu on that score actually, as the sample vial arrived in a clunky big black lacquer box, which frankly seemed like overkill, also on the postage front. But my sample of WHITE arrived in a flattish white box, which opened to form a sort of 3D picture frame-stroke-diarama, in tones of white and gold / cornfield yellow, featuring a white silk lining - and oh joy! - an actual dried daisy!

Readers, I inspected this flower very thoroughly, and its very fragility (I accidentally dropped it twice on the floor) tends to confirm that it is REAL. That fact is worthy of upper case letters, I feel. It instantly took me back to my childhood, when I used to make collages of 'found things', as well as pressing the coloured foil wrappers of sweets between the leaves of weighty novels - or flowers (and once infamously, a roadkill lizard!) in the pages of a beloved scrapbook. The whole pack had a lovely aura of an adorable interactive educational toy-cum-ornament-cum-picture. The company had also generously enclosed a coffret of all the Puredistance scents, which is a great aide-memoire, not least because I had drained my vial of Opardu and was keen to try it again.  But I will save that story for another time, as I say...;)

Accompanying the box was a rather attractive flyer with a radiant sun design in this same buttery, muted yellow veering to old gold. It features a handwritten note from Puredistance's PR lady, plus sketches of the key ingredients in the new scent for handy identification! Who knew that vetiver looked like a shaving brush?! (Or it does when it is in a bundle, say, while patchouli looks surprisingly like vetch.) There is also an account of the inspiration behind the fragrance, and a list of its 'ingredients' (unexpectedly partly capitalised!) and their provenance, to wit:

"Rose de Mai from France, Tonka bean absolute from Venezuela, Orris absolute from Italy, Sandalwood from Mysore, Bergamot from Italy, Musk, Vetyver from Haiti and Patchouli from Indonesia."

I am not usually one for backstories - or let's say I approach them with a certain degree of caution - but I rather like the premise for WHITE. Here is an excerpt from the leaflet:

"The main idea behind the creation of Puredistance WHITE Perfume has been to create a perfume so beautiful and positive that it gives the wearer an instant flow of happiness. We asked Master Perfumer Antoine Lie (who also created Puredistance BLACK for us) to create a white and golden dream; an intimate escape from harsh reality....In this era of global negativity our aim is to give our customers a positive, mood transforming perfume. We hope WHITE will make many moments in your life a little bit more beautiful and colour your world in shades of serene white and warm gold - instead of grey. ;)"

My bedroom: fortuitously in this exact colour scheme!

I like the addition of the smiley face - possibly also a reference to a certain film doing the rounds at the moment, hehe...? ;) But anyway, I like the concept - I have blogged myself recently on the subject of bad stuff in the news and the current, rather downbeat Zeitgeist - so it is a nice thought that Puredistance are seeking to yank people out of that slough of despond, and neatly bridge the gap between winter and spring with WHITE's combination of white and gold tones. For this perfume doesn't evoke simply white to me - it is richer than that. A fitting crossover scent for the chilly yet sunny days of early March we are experiencing at the moment...there are some yellow coloured flowers in gardens - daffodils, crocuses, tulips - but it could just as easily hail at any moment, and did do on Sunday! So the timing for a fragrance launch with that message - both weatherwise and in terms of counteracting negative events in the media - is spot on.

So how does WHITE smell?

Well, I have tried it three times now on consecutive days, with pretty consistent results, though I might get more or less of the floral notes poking through, like spring bulbs in our flowerbed analogy. My overriding sensation, however, is of a seamlessly blended nutty, woody, slightly peppery?, tonka-centric gourmand scent. The tonka itself has those characteristic overtones of coumarin and hay as well as vanilla, which lend it a slightly sterner, drier, more offbeat facet - possibly buttressed by the vetiver. Now I don't know what the scent of a daisy is exactly, but I imagine it might also be a bit austere and vegetal, so in that regard it is a fitting emblem to represent this scent, not least because of its teaming of these two signature colours within its own flower.

Then texturally - you know how big I am on texture ;) - WHITE is muzzy and musky - and warm in very much the style, if not the scent, of Puredistance 1. By the same token it is also quite tenacious. WHITE is 'thickish' and opaque rather than sheer, and although I did spot the odd appearance of iris, I can't say I detect rose at any stage. I should mention that my nose / skin tends to amplify anything on the tonka-heliotrope spectrum, and I see tonka as a halfway house towards heliotrope, although I may be completely wrong there. For me, tonka and heliotrope both hover around that vaguely almondy, milky foody territory, with just a hint of a bitter or anisic twist.

In terms of any other perfumes WHITE resembles, the only one that sprang to mind was PG Tonkamande, though it is a while since I sniffed that, and there is only partial crossover, notewise. On my skin, WHITE is so tonka-forward, at least initially, that it sets itself apart in that way. So overall I would say that I like WHITE quite  a lot; it does fit the brief of being warming and comforting in these troubled times. I particularly like its quieter phase about 1-2 hours in, when the coumarin-y aspect of the tonka has settled down, and the composition becomes a little sweeter and more floral (more the iris than the rose, in fairness). The feel of the scent on skin is also more silken and smooth than at the outset. This is when WHITE truly slips into its lazy, hazy, dreamy phase. And after my unexpected bonding with the later stages of MAAI, readers will not be surprised to hear that I am well up to a bit of waiting now when it comes to a perfume's development. ;) I can see myself progressively warming to WHITE, indeed. I would say that it is not an obvious perfume, but strikes me rather as something of a grower.

In the Puredistance literature, I note that the people on whom WHITE was tested 'immediately started to smile and then started to smell again, telling us WHITE filled them with happiness.' I would imagine they must be bigger fans of tonka bean than me. For that reason, I doubt that I will ever feel mad love for WHITE in its entirety, as I am not that keen on tonka bean when it's centre stage like this, and I think you really have to be to fully appreciate WHITE. But props to Puredistance for going a rather unconventional route with this latest release, nailing their white and yellow colours to the tonka mast!

Then on a whim, I googled the origin of 'Honky-tonk blues' which inspired the first part of my title. I knew it was a song, but didn't know what about. I learnt that 'honky-tonk' refers to both a style of country music and the rather rickety bars in which it was performed. 'Honky' on its own, meanwhile, appears to have been a pejorative nickname used for white people, possibly originating in Chicago's meatpacking plants. Well, we'll draw a veil over this nugget of info, as that way lies more gloom and negativity(!), except to say...how curious that 'honky' should mean white.  And of course WHITE is designed to drive away the blues, by suffusing the world in white and yellow. Of which it does a pretty good job, I'd say, all things considered.

Not the right yellow, but still ~ Source: ratemymusic.com

PS A props credit is due to Victoria Frolova of Boisdejasmin, who gave me the tonka beans when I visited Brussels in 2012. I knew they would come in handy one day!

My equally colour-coordinated bedroom wool stash!