Happy Wednesday Thursday! This newsletter covers my time in Corsica, with recommendations behind the paywall (thank you!).
Press Play
Reine de l'attitude ft. Lydia Képinski by Dopamoon
Honestly, it just resonates. And it’s the exact vibe I took to Corsica last week—adventurous, high (in altitude!!), sun, pure, legit just living life without asking anyone for permission.
Borrow from ur local public library
Secrets of the Flesh: A Life of Colette by Judith Thurman
Colette was a multi-hyphenate before that was even a thing. She lived a fascinating life. She’s a French literary genius (everyone knows this) with mommy issues, but she was also a mime, actress, and journalist. While married to a sexual deviant (who also took full credit for her Claudine series), she openly dated women…including Napoleon’s niece. And continued seducing men and women throughout her life. I forget how I discovered this autobiography (it was probably Twitter, tbh), but I jotted it down on my Notes App as the perfect read for my French residency. At last, it became available on the app I sync to NYPL to borrow books after 3 weeks! A mere few pages in, it’s already clear that she was a hedonist, autonomous, and elusive woman. I love an enigma!
What I’m up to
I spent a few days in Corsica last week. If you ever have the chance to visit, plan for May! Everything is open, the temperature is warm, and you beat the tourist crowds.
Corsica belongs to itself more than it belongs to all the empires and countries that have claimed it. Many have loved La Corse and tried containing her, but she could not be tamed. Except for when Genoa sold it to cover its outstanding debts to France and France invaded it, I suppose. But only in the way that the place that birthed the smallest yet most ambitious man who ever lived (Napoleon) could be seized—with contempt for the French government and a penchant for militant nationalism.
Corsica’s complex history, as described by a 27-year-old perfumer, is as follows: Corsica, the island of rugged beauty (okay, yes), dates back to the pre-historic era and is marked by successive waves of conquerors. They lived under Greek, Roman, Vandal, and Byzantine control, but the Genoese period was the most notable. True to their roots, Corsica rebelled. The French government helped Genoa quell these uprisings, which led to Genoa racking up a hefty bill with the French. Thus, the Genoise sold Corsica to their ally. Corsica rebelled again and still holds onto its Corse culture (language, folklore, fashion). Many separatist movements have come and gone. Some people call for total Corsican liberation, while others want to return to Genoise tradition (AKA join its sister Sardinia in Italy). Today, Corsica holds special status with France, where it’s loosely autonomous, but the island’s walls are covered in nationalist grafitti and calls to free separatist figures.
Due to national holidays, my language school gave us the week off. It was the perfect time to take the overnight ferry to Corsica and escape the Olympic flame crowds in Marseille. When I told my vintage shop mom that I was going to her favorite island, she glowed and called her husband. He lives in Corsica, so she demanded he be on call in case I needed anything. Though very confused, he accepted his task.
Corsica smells like jasmine and orange blossoms (notes from the pittosporum flower), firewood, and pine. The perfect scent story. It was almost enough to assuage the anxiety that hit me when I realized I booked a rental car a 30-minute drive away on a holiday. I had no luck hailing a cab, and buses weren’t running. My knight in shining armor came in the shape of a beautiful Corsican woman, who offered me a ride. We were off to a good start.
I drove around to many beautiful beaches and quaint towns. At some point during my drive through the mountains, I cried. I still don’t really know why, except that everything was so beautiful. Later, I added 6 minutes to my coastal drive because I couldn’t stop looking out the window and exclaiming, “WOWOWOWOOwowoow!”
It’s hard to choose a favorite beach, but I think it was Plage de Bodri. An oft overcrowded white sand beach, I only had to share it with two other groups of people. No one was around to judge me when I ate a Corsican tomato like it was an apple. A cool thing about Plage de Bodri is that it’s connected to Plage de Ghjunchitu by a small trail. I opted to walk along the water in my Olsen Twin Tevas, which proved precarious and rocky. This would normally be fine (I think? though I’m not so sure in retrospect since most people took the trail), except my Tevas are too loose (ask SDM why). I was slipping and sliding All Over the Place when I recalled a scene from my childhood. I was about nine, barefoot, and trailing my dad along similar rock formations. I was crying, “The floor is too hot!” when he looked back at me with pity and a bit of guilt. He explained he didn’t feel the heat because his feet were calloused from his (mostly) barefoot childhood. He carried me the rest of the way—I love him so much.
Do you think the universe gives you signs? Like if you cross a street in Brooklyn for the first time in your life and see someone you once loved/maybe still love, does it mean anything? I believe that through-line moments are the universe telling you “you’re on the right path,” not “this is a sign that you should blow up your life.” It happens to me a lot. I chose a random restaurant for dinner the night of the Olympique de Marseille Europa League semi-final. I was hoping to watch the match but had given up on it. But the owner was Marseilles and was playing the match for the local biker gang filling the dining room. Kismet.
Here’s what I think you should do if you want to visit Corsica. I include my two favorite Corsican perfume producers. If you DM me, I’ll tell you the story about my experience with one of them: