Scents of Self

I am someone who love, love, loves perfume. It's not just the scents, it's the people and places that they bring to mind. My grandmother is sweet and classic: L'Air du Temps. I can always smell it on her neck when she hugs me. When I was very young, my father took us to church on Sunday mornings, and I used to squeeze in next to him for warmth. His blazer would smell like Chaps, and for a very long time I thought that was just how dad's nice clothes smelled. My mother loves Arpege, but I don't have any memories of her smelling quite so fancy. Instead, I remember the spicy smell of Bay Rum hanging in the air of my bedroom after she had kissed me goodbye in the morning.

I love perfume bottles; some are delicate and classic, some are funky, some are sophisticated. I love how they look sitting on a vanity or a dresser or a bathroom counter. When I was young pefume seemed to be one of those delights of womanhood, like high heels and makeup. I couldn't wait to be a part of such a glamorous world. And I haven't really changed. I still love to dress up and I love to put on a scent that makes me feel, well, however I want to feel that day.

I own 5 different kinds of perfume, not to mention several bottles of body mist and perfumed lotions. Depending on my mood, I might wear a different scent each day of the week. Or I might be loyal to one fragrance for an entire season. In the spring and summer I love the cotton candy smell of Falling in Love by Philosophy or the fruity punch of Love Spell. If it's a special night I go for the citrusy deliciousness of Gucci Envy Me. In the fall I can't wait to exchange the sweet and light for the rich and musky: Euphoria or Angel. These pair nicely with a sweater and boots. Today I'm wearing Heaven, a Gap scent. I first discovered this subtle, slightly musky smell in junior high thanks to my friend Abby. It was a few years before I bought my own bottle and, although I like it fine, I only wear it occasionally. It's what I wear when I'm dressed down and laid back. It's good for hoodies and tennis shoes.

My husband calls all of my bottles of perfume my "foo foo juice." Still, I catch him sniffing my hair quite often and smiling. My mother calls me a girlie girl and still isn't sure how the daughter of someone who only occasionally wears Love's Lemon Fresh (the Bay Rum ran out years ago) could have such an infatuation with perfume. I think that what it really comes down to is that any scent can become part of a memory. Catching a whiff of a certain smell, be it perfume or cologne or even fabric softener can be enough to transport you to another time and place. I bet I could name a scent for almost every major event in my life. For me, that makes perfume magical.