adventures in sinaesthesia: wodehouse and cuir de russie
A lot of people take Chanel’s masterpiece (well, one of them) Cuir de Russie very seriously, rightly admiring its near-perfect combo of cigar, barnyard, and leather, overlaid with a sparkling aldehyde and floral mist. I love cuir de russie, but something about it also tickles my funnybone. I find it incredibly ‘historical’-feeling—which is a silly way of saying it fits—in my mind—into a very specific time and place. It really pushes my imagination towards the post-war years of the English aristocracy, and in particular, towards a certain type of girl, parodied hilariously by the ever pitch-perfect P.G. Wodehouse . This kind of girl—I am thinking of a character named Honoria Glossop in particular--possessed of a Teutonic hardiness, is never far from her horse or the golf and tennis courts, loves outdoor activities, is as strong as an ox, and always manages to get herself engaged to some insipid young upper-class gent. As Bertie, one of the insipid upper class gents lampooned in Wode