I read that a woman should have a distinct scent (and don't they all?). I mean in terms of perfume - that she ought to have a signature scent and other seasonal, lesser perfumes. Come-and-go like the wind. Like lovers. But I don't know about that, I have too much of a fleeting tendency, I go from scent to scent and fall in love with each. Find it hard to remain faithful, but at the same time, stay. In my mind, I stay in place, in love. In stasis.
Love for me is a complicated dance of stillness and constant flux. Like perfumes.
I'm throwing away bottles that are empty. Smell-of-the-past bottles. Like this one. I pop off the cap and remember being 22, spring romance. Feeling of oppression, the thrill of getting caught. Apparently olfactive memory is one of the strongest memories the human body has. Years, even decades can go by, yet it's enough to get a brief whiff of something and be transported right back through the past.
Little black bottle. Smells like the best first date ever. Love it. The happiness of having it. The instant attraction. It was fated not to last, but when I bring it up to my nose, I love him still, even though I wasn't sure I loved him in the first place. It's funny how smell works.
Irresistible. That's adventure. The open road for me, and in keeping, it's a scent I wore when they first unlocked the stable doors. Traipsing around the Spanish coast. Running elegant around Prague, listening obsessively to words that were stories that were a journey that were life.
This one doesn't remind me of love, but it does remind me of the sea. Amour different. An unshakable love, stable, in-and-out love like the tide. Smells like the State Opera in Prague.
But they're over now. The black bottle's empty. This other one down to the last drops. Suppose I could buy new ones, except I always say I will and never do. I always say I'll return to the smells I loved best, but then there's new worlds, new lives to explore. I get lost.
My favorite perfume's emptied and long gone already. Ange ou Demon. Without the question mark, like me. That one smelled like being 17-18 years old and running around Europe to see rock shows and lose myself in the crowd. And it smelled like being a little badass and like all these men I was in love with at the time. Still am. Am I?
I keep saying I'll get another bottle someday. Except you can't really, can you? Go back. 26 can't smell like 17, unless you're temporally blind and I'd prefer not to be. It's a new moment, new journey. A new scent.
I actually received a new one just recently. Something delightful and sweet. Something about being seductive and adventurous. Is it your kind of perfume? I said I don't know - how could I? I don't know what the future will smell like yet. But I suppose it can be that.
Guess I'll have to tell you in a few more years, or whenever that bottle empties. When that road runs dry.
Are you a re-buyer? Faithful? Buying the same scent over and again? It's not a bad thing, I don't think. There's something to be said about faithfulness. In Romanian, it's one of my favorite words. Except I'm stripped of my native tongue now, so I get to be playful and lead you astray.
Are you? Do you stick to what's known or do you like to put your nose to the ground sometimes and see where the road takes you?
