The Scent of Identity

                              

Riding down the road today in the sunshine I was suddenly amazed at how good I felt despite major obstacles in my life.  Was it the sun and blue sky following a day of stormy clouds and half an inch of March snow?  Was it the hope of spring following a very long, bleak winter?  Was it the thought of my blue and white blooming hyacinths* trapped in my livingroom and kitchen, forced to bring the smell of spring to my rooms, waiting for me there?  Or......and this I prefer.....was it the perfume I tried on at Dillard's floating from my wrist, creating an atmosphere of elegant black dresses, gold jewelry and a handsome partner walking beside me through a twilight summer garden toward the lights and the music?  I don't know, but it was probably a combination of all these factors, including the perfume, that made me feel free and oddly lovely.   

I do love perfume, discretely applied.  One should have to search a little to find it, and it should be a search at close range.  It should never announce one's presence; rather a person should notice it when leaning over or brushing up against the one wearing perfume.  A hint of pleasure, rather than a shower of indulgence. 

I once had a friend kidnap my perfume, a scent not well known but packed with oak moss.  It faintly irritated me because this perfume was my mother's discovery passed down to me, a perfume my friend would have never found without my revealing the name.  Not a commonly worn or popular perfume, this scent was part of my identity at the time, and my friend just up and bought it, sprayed it all over herself and assumed it as hers even in my presence.  Alas, I moved on to other fragrances but continue to wear that particular perfume from time to time even now.  The perfume outlasted the friendship, as is often the case. 

Scent has a profound effect on emotions, and we have scent identities.  That which lures us comes from where we have been and where we want to go; flowers, barks, water and earth we have smelled; foods cooked by our mamas; the smell of linens upon which we slept as children; plants that inhabit our homes and gardens; good experiences and bad in the presence of backdrop smells.  Antiseptic smells in hospitals evoke in me the terror of a four year old losing her daddy, and carnations cloud me with sadness taking me back to granny's death.  Lavender transports me to a happy home I once had, and coffee and nutbread baking takes me to the home I love today.  

And my perfume takes me to places of fantacy I have known and am yet to know.  I think I will buy the perfume I tested today because it wore well and remains on my wrist hours after being applied.  I won't tell you what it is, however, because I discovered it, it is mine and I don't graciously share my perfume or identity.

* Legend says that Mohammad said that if he only had two loaves of bread he would sell one to by hyacinths because hyacinths would feed his soul.    

Comments

[C. Robin Janning]

Dear Jan,

This post will haunt me all day and I will carry the thought with me as I go to the Aveda salon for my haircut. Lately I've been craving the single note perfume of Jasmine. You make me hungry for scent (and nutbread!).

Peace on,
Robin