Maggie the Cat is Alive, I'm Alive! Marissa Zappas 2023
2
the fall of a feline starlet
Gang, I can’t do it. The gold-plated peach bellini dry down is not worth the first half-hour of wee. I get pure dank, stank ammonia. That paired with the pale powdery florals paint the picture of a perfumed litterbox or Febrezed latrine. (Albeit a fancy, neo-Rococo one). I love a good musk, but this is just too janitorial for me. The other thing: Maggie has claws. This scent is a lingerer. It took an everything shower to get her completely off my skin. Kind of peeved that my fave MZs are all ghostly in lifespan, but the ones I don’t jive with last forever.
Mental Snapshot: You’re an heiress left to your own devices in the Ritz’s presidential suite. Fresh-cut fruit, bouquets of blooms, a bottle fizzing with pink champagne. Too bad you lack the thumbs to pour. You are forced to swat it off the table and lap it straight from the carpet. (You're a cat, don’t ask questions). By the time you sober, the whole suite is reduced to piss and ribbons. Fancy Feast is going to cancel your brand deal if the tabloids hear...
tl;dr: cat locked in an Old Hollywood powder room
Mental Snapshot: You’re an heiress left to your own devices in the Ritz’s presidential suite. Fresh-cut fruit, bouquets of blooms, a bottle fizzing with pink champagne. Too bad you lack the thumbs to pour. You are forced to swat it off the table and lap it straight from the carpet. (You're a cat, don’t ask questions). By the time you sober, the whole suite is reduced to piss and ribbons. Fancy Feast is going to cancel your brand deal if the tabloids hear...
tl;dr: cat locked in an Old Hollywood powder room