Plutonic Rainbows

It opens today — another roar into the modern age. On Saturday, I will see it in Bristol, though not in the same cinema where it all began. That theatre, where I first witnessed wonder, fell silent in the late ’90s — its curtains drawn forever, its magic folded into memory. It was 1993. I was a younger man, sitting in the hush of that darkened room as prehistory stormed back to life. The screen lit up with beasts and awe, and something in me shifted — wide-eyed, breath caught, the future vast and alive. Now, in a different cinema, older, steadier, I return not to recapture youth, but to honour it. To feel the echo of that first thunder, still rumbling somewhere beneath the years.

It’s already dropped online — and the movie has only been out for a few hours. I need to resist the temptation and wait for the full big-screen experience.

In a time when the world shimmered with optimism and edge, Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren reigned as icons of the late nineteen-eighties, their adverts capturing more than clothes — they captured desire. Calvin’s vision was athletic minimalism: clean lines, sun-bleached denim, and the suggestion of motion even in stillness. Ralph, ever the storyteller, spun Americana into elegance, all polo fields and windswept hair, his models cast like Gatsby’s heirs. These brands didn’t just sell garments — they conjured a lifestyle, one of convertible drives along coastal highways, glances exchanged on tennis courts, and the promise of summer stretching endlessly ahead.

Each campaign was a window into a dream, printed across glossy magazine pages with grainy textures and radiant light. The faces, the fabrics, the fonts — they spoke of youth, confidence, and aspiration dressed in linen and ambition. Even now, decades later, those adverts hum with nostalgia: a soft-focus reminder of when fashion felt mythic and a slogan could make your pulse race. To revisit them is to time-travel, not just through style, but through feeling—back to a golden hour of elegance where image became legend.

Watching Ready Player One. It's a good movie but not one of Spielberg's best. It's a dazzling visual spectacle that revels in pop culture nostalgia, but beneath its flashy veneer lies a somewhat shallow narrative that doesn’t quite live up to its potential.

I ordered a sample of Cartier Oud & Santal. The last fragrance I purchased from the house was the reimagined Pasha de Cartier Parfum from 2020 — an excellent modern interpretation of the classic scents Cartier created during its golden era in the 1980s and 1990s.

New album from Perila. A release on West Mineral records.

One of contemporary Ambient’s preeminent figures lands on its leading label, enacting a transition into a new phase of rhythmic noise and tonal shadowplay laced with peculiar sensitivities, wrangling Dilloway-influenced tape noise thru ASMR ambience, fritzed Dub Techno, layered vocal drone and ritualistic mantras - big tip IYI Grouper, Porter Ricks, Pharmako or Civilistjävel!.