BUTTER & PERFUME

Queen Midas of Vermont: Gardener’s Glove,

First Cut & Frost by St.Clair Perfumes

Brilliant bitch and scent writer, the Silver Fox, on the debut of American perfumer, Diane St Clair and the beauty of her process. From butter to perfume, get ready for a smelly treat… 

As a scent writer one of the main reasons I gravitate toward niche and artisanal perfumery is that the makers, creators and artist perfumers are born to tell stories. Theirs is a different route to scent as opposed to those who enrol for perfume school and courses, inhaling their way through the exacting tenets of commercial perfumery. There is of course nothing wrong with this route and the olfactive world would be a poorer place without the dedication and determination of each new generation of perfumers trained immaculately with access to the world’s top materials courtesy of connections made as they worked their way through thousands of odours, both natural and synthetic.

I have been writing for many years now on perfume, the allure, oddities, passions and revulsions of olfaction and the remarkable people who dwell in this odd and sometimes infuriating world. Artisanal perfume makers create from the ground up. Selecting raw materials, blending, compounding, bottling and selling it; some stock sent off to selected and trusted distributors around the world. These makers are people who are instinctually gifted, raw talent that hones itself against a critical world with home-schooled gut instinct and repetitive trial and error. Some people can move a pencil across a sheet of paper, but they are hardly artists. Others can sway to pop music’s insistent beats, but principal dancers in a ballet company they are not. There must be vital fire, a natural creativity that makes such people curious and restless.

Many of my favourite artisanal perfumers are naturally gifted in other ways. Mandy Aftel, the Artisan Godmother was a weaver when she first moved to San Francisco, making her own natural dyes for yarns and she also trained as a successful therapist; these two facets of Mandy, creatrix and nurturer are still at the heart of how she conducts herself in the world of perfumery.  Her generosity and kindness are legendary. Hans Hendley is a photographer, David Moltz and his wife Kavi of D.S.& Durga are musician and architect respectively. Antonio Gardoni is an architect and designer, Dannielle Sergeant, John Biebel, Bruno Fazzolari and Dawn Spencer Hurwitz are all painters, Carlos Huber, the Director/Perfumer of Arquiste trained as an architectural historian and Paul Schütze… well, the man is a polymath with a quiver of many arrows; composer, photographer and of course composer of unique perfumes that resonate like his soundscapes and eerie electronica. Ellen Covey of Olympic Perfumes is not only an award-winning perfumer but also an expert orchid cultivator and world-renowned expert in bat echolocation informatics that was useful when she created Bat for Victor Wong’s Zoologist perfumes. Vincent Micotti at Ys Uzac was a concert-playing cellist before he embarked on his journey of musically inspired compositions. These are people who create; from ground to sky, hands stained with fretful failure, crafted elation and the beauty of personal endeavour.

Now I add the extraordinary Diane St Clair to my list of love.  She is a dairy farmer in Orwell, Vermont down on Animal Farm (yep…) Her gorgeous cows are the soft grass-fed Jersey kind, those beautiful perfect cow-cows that you picture as a child, caramel brown, big eyes and remarkable lashes. It seems somehow wrong to refer to Diane’s cows as a herd, they number only ten or eleven, so I think family is somehow more appropriate.  The butter she makes is literally like gold and despite her quiet Orwellian existence; it caused a sensation in the competitive, high-octane haute cuisine world of American top-tier eating.  Now she is composing exquisite, atmospheric perfumes reflective of herself and the world she inhabits.

She posted a picture on Instagram recently of her alluring butter and the bismuth hue vibrated with intensity. It looked more like colour pigment, linseed oil and yellow powder folded together. A decade ago Diane decided to learn how to turn buttermilk into butter the homestead way, with hard work and studious attention to detail, each part of the process with her hands on it, her nose in the milk as it were, sniffing the cow, grass and Vermont terroir that she loves so much

My interest in Diane was originally piqued by an insightful two-part essay by my friend Kafka for their blog and I urge you to read it, examining as it does Diane’s bold yet somehow understandably vivid urge to explore the full range of her terroir senses. Kafka’s scrupulous examination of the St.Clair perfumes is important in terms of how this experienced writer places Diane’s’ debut creations in the artisanal spectrum. The critique made me hungry to smell Vermont grass, thorny pollen-soaked air and rubbed leaf ambience.

Cows, butter, perfume.  Intrigued yet? Such an arc of ambrosial ambition.  The words seem simple and evocative, tugging at whatever associations we have with them roaming in our recall. But all three things in the heart, hands and mind of Diane St Clair make rich, redolent sense.

The school bus yellow of Diane’s celebrated butter is quite astonishing: a result of the rich creamy milk she is given by the Jersey cows that she loves and cares for. I asked her about the colour and she told me that the Channel Island breeds process the carotene in the grass differently from other bovines. On pasture, this translates into the sunflower yellow hue and also according to Diane a taste and whiff of seasonality. In the summer months the cows’ lush greener diet imparts a sweeter verdancy and herbaceous mouthfeel to the butter and the dry hay in the winter-feed ramps up the buttermilk content resulting in a more luxurious creamy taste. Butter that tastes of love and shifting seasons.

There is inherently a sense of uxorious unease with butter; its very animalic nature and love/hate relationship with food-lovers and diet gurus make it a sensual and forbidden substance- spreading it like molten gold over freshly cut sourdough, moist Russian rye and wrenched steaming baguette.  Oil is oil; butter is decadence.

There is a sense of wonder in what Diane does; her immersion in terroir: grass, hay, earth, rain, starlight, sunlove, her soft beloved cows, their husbandry, midwifery… their heat, colour and comfort. All of this is folded and creamed into moreish gold.

Diane hand-works her butter on marble like patisserie chefs turn pastry and chocolatiers temper chocolate; this allows her to work the fats and I suspect gives her another level of connection with the processes that matters so much to her. As well as being the colour of gold Diane’s butter has the culinary status of the precious metal. Early on she sent a hand-written note to the celebrated American chef Thomas Keller along with some of her butter – a quarter pound round, packed in a plain transparent Ziploc bag. To say he was impressed is probably understating his reaction and even now his legendary French Laundry restaurant in the Napa Valley is one of the few places where you can taste Orwell Farm butter.  Keller owns Per Se, Bouchon and Ad Hoc along with French Laundry and he was the first US chef to hold multiple three star ratings in the Michelin Guide.  In 2011 he was the first male US chef to be made a Chevalier Légion D’Honneur for his commitment and upholding of French traditions of cooking in American cuisine. He greedily (but understandably) buys nearly all of Diane’s butter with small amounts going to a couple of other blessed chefs and any leftovers or glut butter being sold along with the buttermilk at Middleburgh Natural Co-op near the farm and Saxelby Cheesemongers in NYC.

Happily for the process, the quality of her product and the welfare of her cows, Diane has resolutely resisted any obvious opportunity for expansion and more money. She is committed also to the artisan quality of her perfume process – her senses tuned to the Vermont surroundings. It seems on the surface an enviable work/life balance but I get the feeling it is has been hard fought and while the idyllic nature of pioneer-style butter making and cow devotion looks alluring, her dedication and single-mindedness has been gnarly and sleepless.  

Writing about these St Clair perfumes during an intensely fraught period of convalescence has been the most beautiful escape. I sense the perfumes’ slipstream in the air, graze fingertips through grass, and inhale air redolent with pollen and the mote-drunk air of seasonal variance. There is such immediacy and personal welcome in Diane’s perfumery, her notes, accords and blending are more akin to well-written words, pulling you into a bucolic fiction of Thomas Hardy landscapes. This mix of expanse and privacy is a key part of the sensual appeal of the St Clair scents as if Diane has an unspoken hesitancy about her skills while at the same time knowing that her compositions have instinctual memoir.

The move from butter into perfume is not as strange as it might at first seem, Diane carries her detailed preoccupation and awareness of her surroundings into acutely observed olfactive impressions of Animal Farm and its shifting seasons.  I sense an inquisitive spirit in her, someone who is aware on many levels of the odours around her and how they might fit together to create immersive scentscapes. Lots of us might feel we notice things, smell the air and flora, take in the hidebound ripeness of animals and imagine these things casting the spell of a blissful rural wander. But few of us set out to truly capture them.

Diane very kindly sent me samples of all three perfumes, but I ended up buying them, I realised I needed them in my collection. The samples were dabbers and I wanted to spray as liberally as my mood required. The mix of air and perfume in atomisers is always preferable to me unless the concentrations of essential oil suggest otherwise. The difference in atmospherics was subtle but different enough to create shifts of Vermont weather on the skin.  You also get a true sense of how richly botanical these perfumes are and the careful balancing act that Diane has achieved between surging horticulture and quiet contemplation.

As the perfume bug bit, Diane realised she would need help. She approached olfaction in much the same way as butter, small batches of excellently made product, created using the finest natural ingredients.  Diane attended a workshop held by Grasse-trained perfumer Eliza Douglas who splits her time between the UK and New York where she works for DreamAir, the highly regarded and innovative fragrance factory founded by Christophe Laudamiel, one of the most fascinating and original scented voices in the business today. With some of the industry’s big hits under his punkish belt (like A&F’s Fierce and Polo Blue…) he finds oddness in seemingly mundane accords, surrealism in the ordinary. The perfumes he created for Strangelove NYC are magical lavish constructions of carefully considered materials that both harmonise and sing along. His debut collection The Zoo is startling, each perfume loaded with dazzle and addictive intrigue. I am obsessed with Scent Tattoo, a post-coital sandalwood and leather scent that glistens and refracts like petrol spills.  The name has a brilliant double reference: scent akin to ink patterned, swirled and traced onto skin and also the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, the dizzying annual spectacle of Christophe’s beloved tartan, musical ceremony and military tradition that unfurls on the dramatic esplanade beneath Edinburgh Castle each night in August.

Eliza agreed to work and communicate with Diane, thus becoming a valued mentor, teacher and friend.  Trials, accords and hope travelled back and forth between Orwell and New York and slowly but surely Diane painted her world into a detailed and beautiful trio of perfumes.  Christophe has also helped, sampling her work and making suggestions. His payment? Diane’s delicious butter of course. He is French after all. He even visited her in Vermont and was very taken with the beauteous Jersey cows. This invaluable assistance has helped Diane hugely on her journey as a perfumer, working her way through the technical challenges of olfactive assembly and the difficulties of building accords that would hold together and help her ideas bloom.  Frost, Gardener’s Glove and First Cut are the work of a woman entranced by her environment, learning as she inhales, pulling ideas from soil, air, water and sky. They are learning scents, but the curve is divine.

Quiet is the new black.  The conception of hushed perfumery and its private harmony with skin is truly to be prized.  Bombast and targeted pomp despite selling well in some markets is ultimately unfulfilling and generic. As I have withdrawn from the world my search for authenticity in many things become paramount, including fragrance. This doesn’t mean organic or necessarily 100% natural but it does mean personal, properly artisanal makers in touch with their materials from inception to wearer.

When you work with naturals there will always be a concern that the resulting perfumery is more hushed in comparison to more conventional fragrance or the feral radiation of ouds or dessert tables groaning with gourmand excess.  Each to their own and my collection is no stranger to excess, but perfumers like Hiram Green, Rodney Hughes at Therapeutate and Tanja Bochnig at April Aromatics are using measured stillness and elemental power to explore the minutiae of environment and mood. We pause and walk their worlds, taking care to absorb the scentscapes. Diane St Clair’s terroir perfumes are the perfect embodiment of this style.

Now, onto the perfumes themselves. There is a gleeful rush of smashed jasmine in the opening of Gardener’s Glove, mixed with the green yeastiness of linden and divisive curves of waxen lilies. It is quite the start. A smartly arranged trio of apricot, saffron and enigmatic bittersweet lemon underplays the floral opening as it settles into a muted yet arresting pollen mood. This is pungently shot through with the gourmand familiarity of blackcurrant bud, deliciously tea-like, heightening the sense of garden and meadow harvest, broken stem and trodden leaf.

The concept of Gardener’s Glove is beautiful. Garden tools and paraphernalia gather gradual soul with the accruement of dirt and decay, the rubbed, snapped history of hedgerows, borders, orchards, meadows, flowerbeds, fields and woods. And there are the evocative delights of spades, trugs, secateurs, trowels and twine, bamboo, flowerpots, seed trays, kneelers and wheelbarrows. These objects, much used and well loved, they smell and feel potent with age, dust and blooms crushed across iron, wood and leather.  I’m aware that many of us don’t have access to working gardens, something that makes my heart ache as I age. Daily wanders through the Royal Botanic Gardens assuage the longing, but not quite enough.

Diane has conjured up this extraordinary concept of a gardener’s glove. I think the singular glove subconsciously is an important part of the fiction, something elegantly familiar, used over and over in a semi-feral garden drenched in bees. The leather of the glove has been healed with waxes over the years and these have absorbed the shed, porch, greenhouse and pull of leaf, berry, thorn and rain-soaked petal. Earth and chlorophyll stain the map of unfurled cracks that over time have moulded into the malleable palm.

One of the things you notice with all three St.Clair perfumes is the big naturalistic embrace of the openings, Diane imprinting the details of terroir upon us. While you are being seduced by the notes on skin you realise the diffusion of Vermont mood into the air around you. I think this frisson of weather turning, arresting us, only really comes with artisanal perfumers and the way their souls seep into the essence of their work.

Spraying Gardener’s Glove creates a rush of abandoned greenhouse, the air has a slightly different weight in my nose, and the texture somehow smells brighter, more sparkled. I get lost in meadow notes, cut grass and the odour of whispering flora. Diane has used leather and saffron to suggest the body of the glove, bolstered by a delicate use of patchouli, benzoin resin and a distinctive rice-like vetiver.  Some wicked, mucky castoreum (a synthetic form of beaver musk) and smoky fir needle add eccentricity and fleshiness to the layers of grasses, resins and citrus. This glove has rubs of intense jasmine, the blossoms leaving giddy impact on the leather. Perhaps a little soapy on the flooded nose, but then increasingly joyful and alive. No matter what else they gather, the ghost of these sensual blooms will haunt the glove like persistent enfleurage.

Each occasion of wearing affords new and subtle pleasures. The sensation of wearing nature in its tactile hazy summer residue way is at times quite moving. In the wrecked garden of the family home that my parents sold in the wake of a deeply unsettling and often bitter divorce were the remains of a Victorian coach house. In front of this was a sullen mossy greenhouse where I have blurred recollections of dissolvable seed trays and the sharp lemon-green finger sniff of tomato plants. Many of my home memories have been tainted by the rendering of a forty-five year marriage, but that top corner of the garden remains a heady recollection of linden, elderflower and decay, mingled with the abandonment of tomato plants, fractured glass and weary aluminium.  There were feral fruit trees and a mossy stone bench that had collapsed like an ancient henge. These memories were lured into life again by the dizzying, close capture of Diane’s perfume work.

They say the first cut is the deepest. Diane’s First Cut is certainly an olfactory incision of sorts in air, on skin, of some arresting beauty; the chafed herbiness of basil and rosemary initially rich, buoyed up by the honeyed pressure of a lovely rose. The effect is of early morning light in a still, warm kitchen.  Over the years of writing I have developed a reserved preoccupation with immortelle, its gorsy cicada warmth adds a sense of stillness to the opening weather of First Cut, working beautifully as the top notes mellow the yuzu fruit, its expressive facets oscillating between grapefruit, litsea cubeba and mimosa. This beautifully made start flickers and floats on card as a cold, cold hay note rises; not a tobacco, coumarin exhalation as I might have expected but the olfactive vision of a worn Shaker table scattered with fresh straw, low light, as evening falls.

It is of course skin that causes revelation and Diane’s work is no exception. First Cut is more intensely abstract and cohesive on flesh, the elements harder to read. On card it is easier to track and recognise materials but on skin, as it should be, it becomes more elusive, yet all the more fascinating. It is here that the golden-sweet hay St. Clair leitmotif stains First Cut in the most addictive way.

During the preternaturally hot weather that sulked over the city and most of Europe in June and July, First Cut felt like the most divine stint of rehab; lost in a green-thrashed floral bower, light filtering through layers of chlorophyll-rich leaves and shrubby air. A lemon tree sweats a citric mood into your recovery and lavender, roses and the lovely dry barkiness of oakmoss catches on the edges of a thousand imagined sensual throats. I really love the hay absolute Diane has used; it’s a hard note to control, small doses often dissipate and leave an uncomfortable space, but calibrated correctly and blended with imagination, hay absolute brings beautiful atmosphere and warmth to compositions.

I generally rise early but this summer I was getting up at five am to work in the residue of any night coolness before the hammer blow of the heatwave fell. With repeated wearings I’ve realised it is the entwining of rose and immortelle in First Cut, a kind of buzzing ochre-smeared madder that transmits blond pipe tobacco on skin.  In the mornings this odour utterly delights me and right now, calms the fuck out of a weary fox. As the tobacco forages skin it aids the gentle development of smoke and a grassy vanilla. The kitchen-rubbed basil and rosemary don’t completely fade but sink into the base like piquant culinary memory.

If I had to choose one of Diane’s trio that felt somehow different, it would be Frost, inspired by Robert Frost’s poem To Earthward, it is a little more insistent with a mood and reach that points to future direction and thought processes. It is the strongest of the three or at least the one from bottle to skin with the most powerful flesh bounce and echo.

It is also the part of the trilogy I have taken longest to love but that love has deepened to something akin to obsession. When you first hear the name Frost it will settle in your psyche depending on how you hear the word and your associations with it. For most of us this will be chill, cold, Jack Frost, first frost, hoarfrost and gardens veiled wedding white as dawn breaks on gelid petals, stalks and blooms. Intriguingly there is none of this in Frost, but those of who read poetry, especially American poetry will hopefully think of Robert Frost, nature poet par excellence whose emotive words profoundly shaped how America has considered its rural environs, listened to its skies and inhaled its weather. In times of bleak shadow I have often picked up my collected poems and lost myself in Frost’s revelatory natural minutiae of the human condition. I had to re-purchase my copy of his Collected Poems after lending mine to someone who lost it. (LOST IT! Don’t lend books people. Your heart will always be broken.)

Reading Frost’s poems again chronologically, I felt the power of his connections to land and spirit swell, falter, crack and mend. His words remind me that perfection is impossible and chasing it is sad folly. To Earthward, from Frost’s 1923 collection New Hampshire that also includes Nothing Gold Can Stay, and Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening is an eight-stanza poem that celebrates a journey of loving; the first four verses look at that intoxicating first flush of passion when anything seems possible. Love renders us immortal, senses alive to everything around us and we cannot imagine how it could ever come to an end.  The second darker, more rooted half explores the shadows of reality creeping over the light of love. Difficulty, struggle, smoke, amertume, weariness. Time marks us. The ceilidh of infatuation and first crush fades. Love is grounded.

To Earthward is not a particularly easy poem to open, but poetry like with many things in life, interpretation is subjective and often dependent on personal experience. I personally never quite forget the power of reading new poems, discovering new poets and feeling their words and rhythms blow through my mind like squalls of unexpected weather.

It was delightful to discover a poetic homage to Frost, tipping an olfactive hat to the poet’s understanding of American flora and fauna. Love as flower, love as trees, spice, petal and ground. To Earthward breaks the back of sadness and exposes the burial of love after a lifetime of shared intimate detail.  There are key natural motifs in the poem, redolent images that echo the shifting schematics of giddy all-consuming first love to the charred aromas of endings.

Frost is a noticeably stronger perfume than either First Cut or Gardener’s Glove and its initial overture is divine, a scent of Christmas homemade pomanders; mandarins studded patiently in cloves and then rolled in orris powder and left in a dry, dark place to desiccate slowly. The orris adds its own alluring odour of powdered mystery. My mother used to make these, inspired in part by Eleanor Farjeon’s poem The Clove Orange.

I’ll make a clove orange to give to my darling.

The mix of clove absolute in the base, Meyer lemon, bergamot, mandarin and woody sweet petitgrain is the most perfect rendition of freshly made pomander, the fruits sticky and dusty with labour, lined up on a juice scattered table top.  It is a persuasive start and this pomander note drifts like a heritage phantom throughout Frost’s journey on skin. It becomes less clovey as Diane replaces its sweet spiked spice with a moody smokiness in the final stages to remind us that love and the fumes of passion are essentially ephemeral concepts.

‘Now no joy but lacks salt,

That is not doused in pain

And weariness and fault;

I crave the stain

Of tears, the aftermark

Of almost too much love,

The sweet of bitter bark

And burning clove.’

If you read this out loud savouring the taste of the words in your mouth, you can smell the odours; an aftermark of woody bark and the madder-mist of clove. (The word aftermark makes me sigh with joy). The aftermark of Frost on skin, the shadows of materials lingering like past conversations in empty rooms is why I find this particular perfume so compelling. Diane has in some respects used To Earthward like a recipe, words handed down from mother to daughter, and perhaps over the years women have scribbled notes on the page. But Frost is more than this, Diane, like Frost is profoundly influenced by her surroundings and the Vermont terroir.  

Frost’s ‘…sprays of honeysuckle, That when they’re gathered shake, Dew on the knuckle.’ are given soft luminosity by the Stil de grain yellow accord that Diane surrounds with rose geranium and elderflower absolute with its lovely chocolate-dipped apricot nuances. The vividness of Frost’s ephemeral wet words is quite visceral in its olfactive rendering. When I worked in perfumery I was asked many times for sweet peas and honeysuckle, two blooms deemed as old-fashioned and unextractable. Things have moved on considerably in terms of technical applications and creativity but ultimately it is still the instinctive skill of the perfumer that allows us to experience such flowers.

The gift, or trick if you want to be churlish, is to balance the fleeting knowability of such blooms yet also impress upon us their beauty and classicism. Poets use economy and huge emotional resonance in their arsenal to move, enrage, romance, shock and awe us. The perfumer must do something similar, creating from a palette of natural materials in Diane’s case to illuminate, hopefully prompting us to inhale and momentarily conjure memories of fragile and elusive flowers.

The nostalgic paroxysm of honeysuckle, a lipstick blur of rose geranium, grass, the earth beneath us, air, grapevines and musks; these things move like weather through To Earthward as the love rises and falls to the soil, grounded by the weight of time and perhaps our own expectations of desire. Love is in the details, the minutiae of time spent together and eventually the drydown of our lives is both humbling and scented with relief, honeysuckle and the beautiful drift of smoke, clove and setting sun.

This essay has taken me months to write, Diane St Clair’s debut trio deserved this attention and intense scrutiny. They made me think a lot. I have chatted back and forth to Diane and she has been immensely kind and generous with her time. It is not telling tales to say she questions this olfactive shift in her life, immersed in the brutal delicacy of perfumery as she creates her treasured golden butter and mothers her creamy, dreamy Jersey cows.  She wonders if her work is perhaps too quiet for an olfactive world preoccupied with money, blatant trends and repetition. But as with modern cities and banal architecture there will always be delicate flowers and verdancy that peek through paving, split facings and commuter pathways. These things are all the more beautiful and valued because of their rarity and unexpected loveliness.

I search now for quietude in my life but I still want moments of intensity and difference; these don’t have to be accompanied by flashing lights and booming aromatic pomp. The fact that Diane St Clair has thought to move her considerable skills sideways from conscientious animal husbandry and artisanal butter making into the often divisive and highly competitive perfume world makes me feel at once passionately supportive and fearful. Niche is on it knees and mainstream scent is running on wearisome empty. True innovation or a natural awareness of real beauty is rare. There is a lot of talk of finely sourced materials, as if these will transmute mediocre visions and skill sets into perfume gold.

Each wearing of Gardner’s Glove, First Cut and Frost reminds me why I love artisanal scent and the world of creative olfaction but also poignantly why I chose to stop being a part of it, halting more regular essays and my social media presence, withdrawing into a world of floral photography and botany.  The words flow slower, my mind focuses a little less, burned out I guess by disaffection. But then Vermont weather dawns, my skins smells of meadows in sunlight, grass pollen and peaceful woodland. Flowers sigh, insects hum and I say to myself…Diane St Clair thank you for slowing time a little, creating perfumes of such personal resonance and grace.

Read more from The Silver Fox here.


Sexual Health with SH:24

SEXUAL HEALTH WITH SH:24

SH:24 are helping to make sexual health more accessible from HIV testing to contraceptive information. We speak to one of the team members Linnéa about what started this innovative project… 

Tell us about SH:24 and what you do?

SH:24 is a London-based online sexual and reproductive health service. We provide free home STI testing in partnership with the NHS, free oral contraception sent to your home (available in Southwark and Lambeth), and support from clinicians via web-chat, phone and text. I am the creative content designer, so I make  illustrations for instructions and leaflets and manage and curate our Instagram account @sh24_nhs. My day to day work life is spent researching and planning posts and campaigns, and drawing occasional genitalia! 

How did the organisation come about?

In England, there have been large governmental budget cuts to sexual health services which means clinics are under a lot of pressure and severely oversubscribed, and many people are turned away due to lack of capacity. SH:24 came about as a way for people not experiencing symptoms to get regular testing without having to go to clinic. This frees up capacity in clinics to deal with more complex cases. We are part of an integrative service with clinics, which means we work together to offer sexual health and contraceptive support to a larger number of people, rather than replace clinics.

What do you see as one of the main issues people ignore about sexual health in the UK?

There is a lot of stigma attached to sexual health, and I think a big problem is the way we ignore the impact this has on people accessing sexual health services. Public health campaigns often use fear-mongering as a way to get people to take charge of their sexual health and access services, which I don’t think works and only feeds feelings of shame. It’s important to see sexual health as part of your general health, just as you would regularly go for check-ups at the dentist or GP. Anyone can get an STI, and it’s important the we work towards de-stigmatising STIs as a way to get more people to take responsibility for their own health. I think many people also ignore the impact that stigma and shame has on their actions – I can definitely say I used to be like that! Before working here I had only done a STI test once even though I was sexually active, and I was too scared of going to a clinic for fear of being judged.

How can people get involved with SH:24?

Join our new contraceptive forum – it’s about bringing together clinical expertise and user experiences, so that people considering their options for contraception can get a nuanced view of the pros and cons about different methods by reading other people’s experiences and having accurate medical information. It’s a place where contraceptive users (of any gender) and clinical staff can meet to support each other and answer questions around contraception. This part of our service is still being developed so we would love feedback from users!

You can also follow us on Instagram. I love hearing from people on Instagram,so whether you’re a service user who wants to share your experience of using SH:24 or a sex educator looking to collaborate on a campaign, get in touch!

Is there a service you find people aren’t aware that SH:24 provides?

We are working on expanding our contraceptive services, and besides the above mentioned forum, we also offer contraceptive advice via web-chat with a clinician.

Another service people aren’t always aware of is that if you test positive for as STI you have the option of opting in for partner notification, which means we will text any current or previous sexual partners that might have been exposed, so they can get tested. The notification is anonymous so there is nothing should be nothing in it that links back to you.

Tell us a campaign or movement that is close to your heart and why?

I love HERO and GMFA’s recent campaign “I test for: Me. Him. Us.”. The campaign, developed by and for BAME gay and bisexual men, aimed to increase HIV testing but also address the lack of representation of BAME queer men in public health campaigns. As Marc Thompson from BlackOutUK, an advisor on the campaign, put it: “The lack of visibility of men from black, Asian and other ethnic minority communities in sexual health promotion has been well documented as having an impact on BAME men’s sexual health and risk taking, which ultimately plays a role in the disproportionate rates of HIV infection in this population.”

I love the positive message of the campaign. The images are of loving, caring, black queer relationships, without the common stereotype of hyper-sexualisation, and positions HIV testing as a natural part of a healthy relationship. It shows HIV testing as an act of caring, for yourself and for others. Positive accurate representation is so important in determining if people feel included and engaged in public health, and I really believe this approach is an important step towards changing people’s attitudes and eradicating sexual health stigma!

Visit the SH:24 website for more information… 


WITCH HUNTING

WITCH HUNTING

Suzy Nightingale writes about the late night,  cabinet of curiosities event about the witch hunts at the National Archives in Kew.

Poisonous gossip accusing women of witchery, the mysterious scent of Egyptian mummies during a theatrical ‘unwrapping’ and the ‘First Ladies of Egypt’ – fearless Edwardian women and their pioneering work in Egyptology were merely three of the fascinating topics covered at Kew’s National Archives at Night event. Hosting a suitably macabre itinerary for Halloween, the Archives building was bustling with hundreds of guests eager to delve into the darker side of history. Of course we felt most drawn the witches, on which we’ll focus here; and oh, it certainly got dark…

The persecution of women during the infamous Pendle witch trials is well known, but did you know that, twenty years later, it all began again thanks to the accusations of a young boy and his pushy father? Setting neighbour against neighbour, poisonous gossip, suspicion and superstition entwined to create a volatile atmosphere that once again cast a dark shadow over an entire community. In a talk entitled The Second Pendle Witch Scare: The Lancashire Witch scare of 1633-43, Dr Jessica Nelson read a letter sent by one William Conway, describing in a state of some excitement, the fact that a pack of up to nineteen female witches had been “discovered” in Lancashire. Witch scares were not uncommon, the previous Scottish scares inspiring Shakespeare to include them as malevolent characters in Macbeth; but this was a witch hunt with a difference. The finger that pointed at the women this time belonged to a ten year old boy.

Encouraged by his father, Edmund Robinson declared he had seen witches congregating in their small community, and was toured around communal gatherings with the claim he alone, for a fee, could point them out in the crowd. One of the accused was an elderly woman called Margaret Johnson, who came to be known as ‘the penitent witch’ as she was the only one to ‘confess’ to her crimes. Under interrogation by the Privy Council, she claimed a man dressed in black had repeatedly approached her, offering the power to hurt humans and beasts as she wished, in exchange for her soul. At first she turned him down, she said, but his seductive offers eventually persuaded her to sign her name in his book of captured souls. As the interrogation continued, it became clear (even to The Privy Council, who expressed their concerns in a report) that Margaret was a very confused and frail old lady, perhaps with what we’d now recognise as dementia, who changed her story many times. Interestingly, no matter how hard and how often she was pressed to ‘admit’ the other accused were fellow witches, she strongly protested their innocence, citing their daily prayers in the cells and stating they were true, godly women.

Another of the seven women Edmund accused, Mary Spencer aged 20, gave a spirited defence and denied outright being a witch. Her male neighbour, a man by the name of Nicholas Cunliffe,  said she’d bewitched a bucket, bidding it run to her (as Dr Nelson wryly pointed out during her talk, one might think this a ‘rubbish use of witchcraft’), but Mary explained she liked to roll her bucket down the hill and race it to the bottom, the court record showing she “…prays God to forgive Nicholas Cunliffe, who having borne malice to her and her parents these five or six years has lately wrongfully abused them.” Her parents having both been condemned to death in the previous assizes. During the court proceedings, Mary often complains the overwhelming noise from the public gallery is so loud she couldn’t even hear many of the accusations against her, so how could she properly defend herself? A chilling reminder of the mass panic and blood-lust that had been whipped up by this pervasive atmosphere of malice among neighbours. In yet another case of a woman being accused by a male neighbour with whom she’d had a previous disagreement, Francis Dickinson stood firm in her denial of witchcraft, passionately using attack as her form of defence, and detailing the disagreement she’d had with her male accuser over the purchases of a cow and, later, some butter that led to bitter arguments culminating in her eventually being accused of being a witch.

During their investigations, the Privy Council took it upon themselves to carefully examine the bodies of the women, looking for signs their familiars had suckled from hidden teats, even examining the cervix for unusual markings or dried blood from a recently suckled spot. Somewhat surprisingly, the concluding report of surgeons and midwives stated nothing unnatural was found on any of the women, no extra teats (in the cervix or elsewhere), no signs of evil-doing. And so, the Privy Council had nothing to go on but one confession from an old, confused woman whose word they already seriously doubted. In the end they resorted to interviewing Edmund Robinson, without the presence of his father (who’d previously refused for his son to be questioned alone). Eventually (we don’t know how long) Edmund confessed he had made up the whole thing up. But why? He’d first invented the tale as he’d been told to collect the cattle in for his parents, but went to play instead. To evade punishment he thought back to the stories he’d heard of the first Pendle witch trials, thereby getting himself out of trouble and enjoying the attention they afforded him. When others then surged forward to further accuse the women he’d named, it became clear rumours and suspicions had long been bubbling beneath the surface against any women who dared to argue with a male neighbour or caused trouble in any way. Edmund didn’t know what a bandwagon to be leapt upon his stories would cause, and Dr Nelson made the point that his father was most culpable, as he’d been the one to seize on the money-making opportunity in which his young son could now, for a pocketful of coins, travel around looking for and ‘recognising’ witches.

So what became of these women once the Privy Council had Edmund’s confession, confirming what they’d already feared was a case of hysteria following false accusations? Were the doors to gaol flung open as the women were triumphantly released? Far from it. In fact, from what records we have, we know most of the accused women died in prison. Despite their now assumed innocence, they’d been kept imprisoned in such devastatingly terrible conditions they became ill and died there. There are no records of what became of Margaret. We can only suppose that, already elderly and frail, she’d succumbed early to the vile conditions she’d been kept under. Pontificating on why the women had not been released, Dr Nelson assumes their deaths provided a convenient underlining of the whole, poisonous affair. Had the women been released back into the community, we can perhaps imagine their righteous fury at the neighbours who’d accused them, the continuing whispered suspicions, an on-going miasma of malice. A sad, stark truth we must consider is that these angry – innocent – women who’d refused to back down were seen as better dead than making mischief. A community washing their hands of blame by turning their heads. A wiping of the slate with bloodied hands…


A Brief History of the Witch Trials

A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE 

WITCH TRIALS

It’s almost Halloween and we’re feeling witchy. Here is a brief history of the witch trials and one case we find particularly interesting…

Where it happened? 

In Europe the worst were witch trials were in Scotland and Germany. From about 1590 to 1670 at least 4000 people were killed in Scotland and some estimates go as high as 7000 deaths. 75% of them were women. In Germany it ran from about 1560 – 1670 and the numbers of those killed were higher – certainly over 10 000 people and some estimates go as high as 20 000. There were witch trials all over the Europe and America, famously in Salem. The Scottish and German trials were undoubtably the most far reaching and gruesome.

What happened after the trial?

Once they were found guilty, witches were drowned. It was believed that their bodies might rise from the dead, so the corpses were burned publicly. A lot of people believe that witches were burnt alive at the stake but this was quite rare. Some women escaped but in the main if you were accused you were convicted – it was very difficult to get out of. In many cases several charges were brought against individual women and they might manage to get out of some of the charges but not that of being a witch. 

Who were the witches? 

Mostly it was women on the fringes. Those without protection. So working class women and often older women were those particularly prosecuted. Anyone could be accused but those who were ‘different’ or who spoke out, perhaps fell out with their neighbours were more likely to be accused. Sometimes people with disabilities were targeted. Once a woman was accused she was questioned (and that included torture) to see if she would turn evidence on her coven. These women were terrified. Many turned in neighbours, family and friends just to stop the pain. 

Where can we find out more about witch trials? 

The court records still exist in archives – the handwritten notes from the trials. Parish records where they survive can also be helpful.This was a time before birth certification and so details of people’s lives were held by the church. Most archives are available to the public though you have to provide ID and follow the rules of the individual institution like only being able to take in pencils (no pens). There are also lots of witchy artefacts in museums – spell boxes for example and instruments of torture. If you’re interested in finding out the real nitty gritty about female history your local archives and libraries are a good place to start. 

Here is little about a witch trial that us bitches and witches  think is particularly interesting…

 There isn’t much information about the women prosecuted of witchcraft unless they were particularly well to do or the odd infamous case. Because most women accused of witchcraft were workers, we mostly don’t have many details about their lives – birth dates are out of the question, as there was no system of certification in those days. They have, however, left their marks in some places on the landscape. Take Kitty Rankine who was burned as a witch in Scotland in 1603. Growing up in a small village, Kitty was said to have second sight, which she inherited from her mother. When her mother died, Kitty found work at Abergeldie Castle and the Lady of the house consulted her, for her powers. Kitty would have been well advised not to play ball, but she screed (put water in a bowl and looked into the future) The Laird of the castle was overseas and she saw him sporting with other women. She told the lady, who was furious, and asked Kitty to raise a storm to kill her husband on his way home. Kitty refused, saying she didn’t have that kind of power. But as it happened, a storm did kill the Laird when he was on his way home and Kitty was charged with causing it and drowning him. The 400th anniversary of her execution was marked in 2003 by a bonfire on the Creag nam Bam (Hill of the Women) near Ballater, where she was killed. The wind on the top of the Creag is very loud and locals say it is the ghost of Kitty Rankine, screaming.

“We are the grand daughters of the witches you weren’t able to burn” – an apt quote from Tish Thawer.

Although historical witch craft is often portrayed in the media there are still cases of women being prosecuted. In 2011 Amina Bint Abdul Halim Nassar was beheaded in Saudi Arabia for practicing witchcraft. 

So we are the grand daughters of the witches that you weren’t able to burn, but we stand by the women still being persecuted. Witches unite. 

We want to highlight forgotten females from history. If you have a story you’d like to share get in touch with Molly at info@reekperfume.com 


Why The Witch Trials Are A Feminist Issue

WHY THE WITCH TRIALS ARE A FEMINIST ISSUE

Our head bitch, Sara Sheridan is focusing on Scotland’s witches as part of a wider project – Where are the Women? : an imagined female atlas of Scotland, which will be published next May. But why are the witch trials a feminist issue? 

Finding women’s voices from history is like treasure hunting. There I  am, in a sea of papers in an archive, digging for days and if I’m lucky, I come across a letter, a journal or an old book and wham, it’s like that woman is right next to me, telling me what she had for breakfast, or what she’s afraid of, or best of all, what she is dreaming about. I have been hooked on this kind of time travel for years and I’ve written a dozen novels, re-imagining those voices – amplifying them and melding fact with fiction. History is important. I believe we can’t fully understand our culture if we don’t know where we came from. The stories of the Scottish witch trials has always fueled my own feminist fire. 

When I founded REEK perfume with my daughter Molly we wanted to  memorialize amazing (and often forgotten) women through scent. I love the idea of perfume as a silent rebellion – no-one needs to know you’re commemorating forgotten Jacobite heroines as you swish by. For DAMN REBEL WITCHES it was important to us and our perfumer Sarah McCartney that the eau de parfum reflected the real lives of women from the witch-hunting era – outdoor smells of riverbank and crushed leaves as well as a whiff of 17th century domestic life – oak moss (used in medicine at the time), malt and hazelnuts. The resulting perfume is complex and it smells dark and kind of haunting. It was important that it was truly gender fluid – a smell that could be traditionally female and male at the same time.

People find the history of the witches fascinating and strongly identify with it. There is a ‘hallowe’en’ perception of witchcraft – a folklore version – which is seductive – more whore than hag, I’d say. Central to it is the idea that these women really practiced magic. As a storyteller, I understand the allure of that but as a historian I come back again and again to the reality. These were not women involved in a power struggle they had a chance of winning – there is no magic to their stories. They were terrified. Once an accusation of witchcraft went to a Scottish court it was difficult to get out of it. The persecution of the witches (in Scotland far more extreme than in most other European countries, with the possible exception of Germany) is a largely uncommemorated piece of our female history, and this is one reason why it is a feminist issue. Another is that it was extremely rare for men to be prosecuted – a handful of cases out of literally thousands. This is something that happened to women and in particular to women who were different – who spoke out, didn’t get on with their neighbours, who were vulnerable because of their age, infirmity, disability or sexuality. There are cases where the family of a witch was cast out after her death – banned from the local community. What happened devastated female life in Scotland for decades and sent a strong message to conform in all things.

This year, I embarked on a project commissioned by Historic Environment Scotland, reimagining an atlas of the country that does justice to the history of our women. I have been working in this field for two decades, looking at individual stories, but it wasn’t until I examined our history as a whole, I realized how many amazing women we have forgotten. Some are heroines – scientists, writers, sportswomen, actresses and activists – others were victims, like the witches. I was reminded of the words of the poet, Mairi Mhor nan Oran who exhorted us tostudy our witches as well as our saints’ and I began to look more closely at how we commemorate these women and what is left of their stories, fragments of which are available in contemporary court records. Agnes Finnie, a moneylender from Edinburgh who was drowned in 1645 while cursing the crowd ‘May the Devil blaw ye blind’. Maud Galt from Kilbarchen, Renfrewshire prosecuted as a lesbian (for assaulting her maidservant with what sounds like a 17th century sex-toy) as well being charged with being a witch. Janet Horne executed in Dornoch in 1727, thought now to be suffering from senile dementia, heartwrenchingly she had no idea what was in store and is said to have warmed herself by the fire that was being set to burn her body.

History is written by the winners, and Scotland’s witches were losers, every one. I believe, however, it is the sign of a mature civilization to recognize its victims. If we are looking for examples, we need look no further than Germany and Berlin in particular, where the city’s history weighs heavily on its built environment with raw memorials recognising (and apologizing for) its part in the Holocaust as well as telling the chilling story of the decades from the Berlin Wall going up until it came down again.

The cultural impact of commemorating our winners (and particularly our female winners) is huge – it affords, among other things, role models for a new generation because when you see that women before you have been judges and musicians, pilots and ground-breaking scientists, it seems possible or even normal to achieve your dreams. In commemorating our victims, however, the process is different. We must make a promise not to forget and more importantly, not to repeat our worst failings. In the witches’ case this needs to be done while navigating the intersection of folklore and history – there is glamour to the witches. The roots of the word glamour, interestingly, refer back to the magic of the faerie world, but unlike the faerie folk the witches are demonstrably real. They are our foremothers and we imagined them to be in league with the devil. We hunted them down, drowned them and burned their bodies. In the modern world witchcraft movement is about sisterhood and attuning to nature and it’s important that anything we say about the witches of the past, also respects that movement in the present.

I am not the only Scottish writer who is interested in highlighting this important issue. Drs Claire Askew and Alice Tarbuck are running Toil and Trouble, a six-week course of witchcraft history, theory and practice starting in November. Claire says “The lack of recognition for real, historical women accused of witchcraft was the main reason I wanted to run the course. We need to better remember them.” For me too, that’s what creating a whiff of our past was about – to silently commemorate the witches while still honouring the present. As a country, it’s time for Scotland to properly memorialize our 16th and 17th century witches – not with the scattering we have of monuments to the legend of individual women but something with gravitas, that recognizes what happened to thousands of our foremothers, and the impact that had on our culture.

This article was first printed in The National on Sunday newspaper on 21st October 2018.


SPILL STORIES GETS SMELLY

SPILL STORIES
GETS SMELLY

Who doesn’t love a spill story? From sex & power, secrets & insecurities to our all time favourite, finding home in food @spill_stories instagram account is enjoyably addictive. We speak to the boss bitch who shares all… 

Tell us a bit about this project and how it came about?

Social media content is usually superficial. Often, the most challenging, real parts of our lives are invisible to others. Ironically, social media actually enhances isolation. Spill Stories is an online and offline community that uses honest storytelling to build real community among women of colour. Online, we feature series like Sex & Power and Secrets & Insecurities, where women share and connect over deeply personal, cathartic stories. Offline, our storytelling events and monthly writing workshops encourage relationships and genuine conversations. The profits from our May event, Truth & Travel, contributed towards 14 Hong Kong refugee children’s school fees.

Was there a particular moment that inspired you to start up spill stories?

Spill Stories was born out my own unhappiness. I live in Hong Kong, one of the major world metropolises, and it can be tough. The transience of the city makes it alienating. After a bad breakup and with nothing to lose, I took to my personal Instagram to start writing about some of my struggles. People commented saying they liked the writing. This feedback gave me the courage to start Spill Stories and create the community that I wanted through writing. The word spill in itself is how I believe stories are told best – honestly and unabashedly.

Are there any particular people who have inspired you on your journey?

Everything goes back to my mom. She was the very first person who encouraged me to write by buying me a journal when I was 6. Her Chinese blog on WenXueCity has received over 8.3 million views to date. I have always been impressed by her ability to express herself confidently, craft a story, and command a room’s attention. She taught me the power of words, both written and spoken. When I first started Spill Stories, I got nervous but remembered the way she would shake off obstacles with nonchalance, like, “No shit, of course I can do this.” She’s got this stubborn confidence that many immigrants have out of necessity. How else can you defy all the odds to create the unknown – a life in a foreign land with no clear roadmap? That confidence has been passed on to me and drives my ambition.

How can people get involved?

People can write posts based on the current series, which is always announced in the bio. I also would love to collaborate with other women writers and artists of colour. I want to hear people’s ideas of how to make Spill Stories better. For all of the above, just DM me on the Spill Stories Instagram, or email me at spillyourstories@gmail.com.

What issues do you see people face in your day to day life that the world can find easy to ignore?

I am a Taiwanese American woman. This identity brings up all sorts of challenges that non-minorities and men don’t need to go through. How do I win respect in a room full of older men at work? How do I find belonging when I don’t fit in either in the States or Taiwan? How do I navigate the cultural distances that separate me from my parents? How can I find a significant other who can relate to both the Eastern and Western cultures I embody? I think about these questions every day.

Tell us about a campaign/advert that made you angry.

I still see backwards sexual harassment ads in Hong Kong and Taiwan that tell women to avoid male assault when the ads should really tell men to stop assaulting us. I had an infuriating conversation about this where a woman, over a networking lunch, told me my ideas were inappropriate because some women also assault men, and my ad would assume men are the only party to blame. What? Of course women can assault men, but most assaults are by men. And more importantly, we should be demanding men don’t assault us instead of placing the burden on the women to avoid / navigate these actions. Fuck that. We didn’t stay in touch.

What message would you put on our on our sticky bitches? equality stickers, free on our site)

F(REEK)Y BITCH.

What are your three favourite smells?

Brownies in the oven, clean laundry, Taiwanese beef noodle soup. 

Are you more of a witch or a bitch?

Me? Ha. I’m a boss bitch.

Yes you are. 


Daina Renton FÉROCE

Daina Renton Interview

Daina Renton, the fierce editor of FÉROCE magazine, shares her bitchy, witchy truths, love of cats and favourite smells and spells… 

Tell us about your publication Féroce…

Féroce Magazine is a Scottish fashion/art publication. Féroce is the publication to submit to if you’ve gone outside your comfort zone as a creative. We prefer to work with independents. Féroce is a platform for artists to spread powerful messages with their work. Férroce wants to set a standard for what this industry should become.

What keeps you motivated while juggling photography and publication?

I understand that motivation is fleeting but self discipline can be cultivated.  Obsession is what drives me to multitask several projects. When I can’t discipline myself and require motivation, I think of my mother. I remember that she managed to raise me against all odds…and I feel motivated to work my ass off. If she managed that, I can manage this.

What does witchcraft means to you?

Witchcraft to me was a source of entertainment and distraction when I was in vulnerable or troubling situations as a child. The meaning of Witchcraft to me has since changed, but I realise after a long break from it that I was a witch from the beginning. There is Witchcraft in everything I do. It’s instinctive.

Tell us about some feminists that inspire you…

There are so many feminists that I find admirable. At the moment, one feminist who truly inspires me is Diane Goldie. She’s based in London. Her clothing, art, and poetry  are just infinite food for thought. When you’re ready to witness the brutal honesty of not only realising the patriarchy, but fighting it, consult her work.

What issues do you see people face in your day to day life that the world can find easy to ignore?

Homelessness. I get really caught up in this issue. It is far too easy for people to walk past and pretend they don’t see a human being who needs help. Mental health symptoms that aren’t romanticised by books and TV shows. Addiction. That’s the easiest of all of them to ignore.

Tell us about a campaign/advert that made you angry.

Because I have a Bachelors in fashion and marketing, I know too much to be angry. I know exactly why each decision was made. Offending viewers to evoke an angry response is a key trend in marketing and advertising right now. These aren’t ‘blunders’ or mistakes.

As a former marketing manager I would encourage anyone who is offended by an advert not to share it, because it was specifically designed to be viral. I always encourage people to watch adverts for Dove, and then watch the old adverts for Lynx. Dove and Lynx are owned by the same parent company. I hope that puts into perspective how sincere companies are with the messages they put out. They will say whatever it takes to get your attention.

What was it like being part of a REEK campaign?

A fucking dream come true is what it was! I’ve been stalking the shit out of REEK for a long time. To finally get to meet the awesome minds behind the brand and above all actually collaborate on something amazing – I wear it as a badge of witchy honour. I loved the atmosphere, and how genuine the team are. It’s a breath of fresh air as a misfit to work with like-minded people who just wanna change the world in their own best way.

What causes are important to you and why?

Recognition, representation, and equal opportunities for black and ethnic minorities. It’s important to me because it should be important to everyone.

Reusable sanitary products. I think Mooncups or Diva Cups should be distributed into low income households and even more so the homeless – even cheaper, and better for the planet than conventional sanitary products. It’s important to me because everyone deserves to bleed with dignity and if the world can be saved we should save it.

What is your favourite REEK sticker?

Witches Unite is my favourite sticker. Witches I mostly meet or hear of tend to be solitary practitioners. We’re all lone wolves in sheep’s clothing sometimes. That’s how I interpret the sticker; a reminder to us and a warning for ‘them’. Sooner or later…one day…the witches will unite.

Tell us your 3 favourite smells?

The smell of cats’ foreheads, garlic breath and Damn Rebel Witches. I think everyone is going to get sick of me talking about this, ha.

Are you more of a witch or a bitch?

I always say that you shouldn’t use witchcraft for any problems or tasks that could be easily solved through mundane means. I’m equal parts bitch and equal parts witch though truthfully. I’m resented like a bitch and feared like a witch. Both of those are just fine by me.

More about FÉROCE magazine here.


Sex Toy Still Life

Sex Toy Still Life
By Anna Wim

Artist and activist Anna Wim tells us the story behind her sex toy still life imagery, the causes that fuel her fire and of course some of her favourite smells…

Tell us the story behind these images and why you decided to use sex toys?

I have always been heavily attracted to sex and erotica, but it’s been a complicated relationship: on one hand, I am hypersexual and open about sex, on the other, my way to the sexual being I am now has been long and difficult. I’ve dealt with a lot of sexual frustration, questioning my own sexuality, and other taboos, which is why, I guess, I enjoy playing with everything sex-related in my work. I love that it makes people uncomfortable; this act of provoking (by something so normal and natural!) is just great.

It might not seem like it, but everything in my photos has a sexual connotation: I use fresh fruits and flowers which traditionally symbolize fertility, lust and/or sex organs. I always imagine I’m creating these opulent, gourmet table settings – only with a few sex toys thrown in!

Who do you hope will see them?

To be honest, I don’t really think of viewers when taking/publishing them. I just kinda put them out and hope someone will see them, but I don’t really think of who that could be.

What’s your favourite sex toy? Do you think that society is scared of the idea of women using sex toys outside of ‘sex’?

I started taking antidepressants a year ago and it’s made me much more sensitive to bodily sensations, and I’ve pretty much stopped using sex toys when masturbating so I’d say my fave toy atm is actually my good ol’ hand, haha. However, I once got the chance to try out Lelo’s Ina vibrator and wow, was that intense!

Sex toys in general are perceived as weird or dirty because they are seen as replacements for the “real deal”. Sex with others is supposed to be the best—or the only right—way of having sex, thanks to the reproductive, monogamous propaganda which  loads stigma on sex toys. And since women’s sexuality is seen as immoral on its own, it is no wonder it is frowned upon when it’s combined with naughty, disgraceful toys! (lol)

Tell us about a beauty campaign that made you feel angry or ugly?

I remember there used to be a deodorant advert when I was a teen which said something like “even though you might not notice it, others can smell you sweating”. I’ve always been self-conscious about the way I smell and that was just the last straw, really. To this day, I am insecure about that and always think others must be disgusted by the way I smell even if I only sweat a little or forget to apply perfume! Such bullshit, right?

Tell us something about yourself that you once perceived as ugly/unattractive that you now love about yourself?

Well, I used to think of myself as unattractive in general and that has (luckily) changed, so I’d say my whole body. But if I had to choose one body part, it’d be my Slavic hips – I am so proud of them now!

What advice would you share with yourself 5 years ago?

Take care of your mental health. Stop downplaying what you feel – it is all legit.

Tell us a campaign or movement that is close to your heart and why?

Um, there are too many to pick one! It’s the Black Lives Matter month in Berlin at the moment, and I really love what the local community is doing: lots of talks, screenings, workshops… Knowledge is power!

What are your three favourite smells?

Jasmine, pine, and lavender.

Are you more of a witch or a bitch?

Both!

See more of Anna’s work here.

 


The Tree That Changed My Life

The Tree That Changed My Life
By Jan Ambrose

Inspirational bitch Jan Ambrose went to the south of France and shed her corporate skin and a whole lot of tears . . .

Leaning against a tree in the south of France sobbing my heart out wasn’t quite what I’d expected when I signed up for a retreat after 26 years of working in a bank. I had taken the bank job aged 22 as a result of my father advising me to get a proper job. At the time, I was saving up to go travelling after graduation and I felt lost about what to do next. On my dad’s advice I’d applied for two jobs for when I got back – one with a retailer, the other a bank. The bank offered me a place on their graduate training scheme and I accepted, thinking I’d do it for a while till I worked out what I really wanted.

The training was interesting, I moved around departments, worked on different projects and secured a permanent role, enjoying the financial security and benefits. But if I’m honest, from the start, a small voice kept telling me there was more to life. I wanted to make a difference and help people and I knew that working in a bank wasn’t my true calling. I went with it, though. Time rolled by, I got married, we started our family. My husband also worked in the corporate world and I just settled. For 26 years, I found satisfaction from leading teams, helping people develop, mentoring and coaching but deep down I remained convinced I was meant to do more.

By last year I had been studying life coaching and hypnotherapy for several months alongside my day job and I loved it. Supporting people to make positive changes was incredibly rewarding. So when the opportunity emerged to apply for redundancy I decided to go for it. The fear of leaving a stable well paid job after so many years was overwhelming, but I had to – even if I wasn’t sure how things would work out. I dreaded the idea that if I didn’t take this opportunity I would be with the same organisation until I retired and I knew I would regret that. With a vague idea of what I wanted to do but no clear plan (something I was deeply uncomfortable with) I took the leap into the unknown. The generous redundancy pay out meant I didn’t have to worry about money for a while but as soon as I left, I found myself racked with massive fears. Who was I to think I could change direction and build a successful business helping people? Who on earth was I kidding?

After a few weeks of floundering, I was worried I would be drawn back to the corporate world. It was kind of overwhelming – 26 years in the same job had on one level, ruined my confidence. I needed support to move forwards and find out if I was cut out for this. So I booked a place on a retreat. This meant 5 days in the peace and quiet of rural France working with a small group of wonderful women, enjoying yoga classes and working on ourselves,. It was a fantastic opportunity – a really magical time. As a group we discussed the things that held us back, sharing all aspects of our lives. Everyone there was, like me, trying to change but finding it difficult.

For me, the biggest breakthrough came when we started to talk about what rules we had allowed to form over the years that dictate our lives. I was shocked at what came up for me. The rules that emerged came from somewhere deep down. During one of the exercises I wrote:

–       Good girls keep quiet, don’t make a fuss and hold back

–       Always be on time, be polite, be respectful

–       You don’t deserve and can’t make a good income out of this ‘alternative hypnotherapy stuff’

I’ve done a lot of personal development work and self exploration over the years so seeing what I’d written really shocked me. I was so rattled I switched my focus to the next task without really taking it in – how did I want to live going forward. I found myself writing:

–       I want to live an even bigger and more magnificent life

Next I wrote down a quote from the French writer Emile Zola that I’ve had framed on my wall for years.   ‘If you asked me what I came into this world to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.’’

When I looked at the pages in front of me the contrast between how I’d been living and what I really wanted, was stark. I had been living out of alignment for so long. I felt an immense rush of emotion and I started crying. I felt compelled to move and getting up, I stumbled outside. Crossing the gravel path I was drawn towards a beautiful oak tree. I leaned against it, looked up at the leaves and cried and cried and cried for what felt like an eternity.

This was not the graceful weeping you see in films, this was full-on ugly crying, deep shuddering sobs as I let go of emotions I had been holding on to for years.  It was cathartic though and eventually the tidal wave passed and I felt a deep sense of peace. Exhausted I sat down under the tree. It was then I heard a quiet voice inside me saying ‘Welcome home …. you are loved.

Coming together later as a group we called out what we’d learned. Thank heavens we were in the middle of nowhere. I absolutely shouted to the universe what I had learned about myself ‘I am phenomenal, and I am here to live out loud.’ It was life changing.

Coming home, it’s resolved such a lot for me. I know I am here to use my skills and knowledge in coaching and hypnotherapy to help others grow and develop. I don’t know all the details yet of how that’s going to happen, but I’m working hard on it. I read recently, when you have the strength and courage to make a leap of faith and embrace change, an invisible mattress appears and the universe will support you.

Since coming back from France I have told the story of my retreat to many people and it seems to strike a chord. So no more holding back for me.  In particular I owe a very big thank you to that wonderful group of women and a magnificent oak tree for supporting me when I needed it most. With so much love.

You can contact Jan on: Jan.ambrose1@hotmail.com

See more about the retreat here


An unretouched image of Damn Rebel Bitch Nina Mdwaba to accompany her piece ‘My Black is Infinitely Beautiful’ for REEK Perfume's blog platform 'Bitches Unite.'

Eilean nam Ban project

Eilean nam Ban

By Ellen Patterson

We speak to actor and activist Ellen Patterson about her all female project  Eilean Nam Ban. An exhibition sharing stories about the extraordinary lives of ordinary women through art, poetry and more…

Tell us a bit about this project and how it came about?

When I started my masters degree I decided to look back over the work I had done for my undergrad and noticed there were a lot more men’s names in the reading lists than women’s. When I actually compared them, I found that only 30% of the reading I was asked to do in four years of university was attributed to a female voice. Only 1% came from a woman of colour. I wish I could say I was surprised. So, when we were given pretty much free rein on our final pieces this year I immediately wanted to create a platform for women’s stories to be heard. I have felt inspired countless times by a piece of art, be it a song, a painting, a poem (the list goes on) so I was drawn to the idea of bringing women’s stories to life in art. The project ‘Eilean nam Ban’ has since grown arms and legs and I am now presenting an exhibition featuring an original song by a Scottish fiddler, a song by an Irish singer, a painting, a collage (made by my Grandmother who, by the way, is most definitely a Bitch), and several poems…so far! This will be shown for free at the C.A.F.E in Brixton on September 28th.

What does the name mean?

Eilean nam Ban is an island just off the coast of Iona in the west of Scotland). Iona was the site St. Colomba’s destination when he left Ireland in 563 and he set about building an abbey there (Iona still has a very beautiful abbey). According to Colomba though, this great task could not succeed whilst there were either cows or women on the island. He insisted ‘where there is a cow there is a woman and where there is a woman there is mischief.’ Thus, all the women and cows were banished from Iona and sent to a neighbouring island which earned it the name ‘Eilean nam Ban’ or ‘Women’s Island.’ In solidarity with those banished women (and cows), I hope that my exhibition can act as its own small women’s island.

Are there any particular people who have inspired you on your journey?

The biggest inspiration for this comes directly from REEK. I have followed REEK closely, working with you at any opportunity I get and your mission to let no women go forgotten has been a huge inspiration. All the work that Sara has done outside of REEK to shine a light on women’s stories has also really spurred me on.

How can people get involved?

Make your voices heard! I am still looking for stories and for artists to collaborate with. The stories can simply be the tale of a woman who has inspired you, be it your best friend, your mum, or that lady in the café at the bottom of your road whose smile always brightens your day. It can be one sentence or one thousand sentences  – if you want her story to be heard, I want to hear it. If you are an artist and want to get involved, I can send you one of these inspirational stories to use to create a work of art in whatever form you choose.

And anyone who can come to the exhibition, it would be great to have you there!

What issues do you see people face in your day to day?

This answer could be pages long; sadly I think we are very skilled at ignoring things that are staring us in the face. I will just focus on one issue for now, one that I see every day in my line of work as an actress; the constant treatment of women as inferior. I see this when a woman is told to lower her register or she won’t sound important, when she is told at 32 she can only play a mother, when she stands up for herself in an audition and is turned away. Time is not just up on the outrageous practice of accepted sexual harassment but on the perverse attitude towards and the shabby treatment of women every single day. She is a person, just as much as he is.

Tell us about a campaign/advert that made you angry.

Anything on my sister’s Instagram feed. The worst was Kim Kardashian selling those weight loss lollipops. For a brief moment I genuinely wanted one. I am a 27 year old woman who is secure in her body (most of the time) and I was lured in. How is a fourteen year old who is being bullied at school supposed to read that and not be convinced they should be shedding pounds one lolly at a time?

What message would you put on our on our sticky bitches? (gender equality stickers, free on our site

LIVE IN PEACH (go cruelty free)

What are your three favourite smells?

Just smells or scents? Okay, I’ll do both! Smells; summer rain, talcum powder, a burning log fire. Scents; Bitches, Witches, The Dark Heart of Old Havana  by 4160 Tuesdays.

Are you more of a witch or a bitch?

Definitely a Bitch. But can I still be in the coven?

Yes. Yes you can.

You can support the ‘Eilean nam Ban’ project on their fundraiser here. All charitable donations in aid of The Fawcett Society. To get involved contact: eilean.nam.ban@gmail.com