Essence - A Lifetime's Fragrance

There is a perfume that I used to call ‘The Essence of Me’. Of course, it has a real name, Dioressence by Christian Dior. I can’t remember my first introduction to it, but it was possibly in a batch of perfume sample phials my father brought back from a trip to France, late 1970s, early ‘80s. There was another one I really liked but never knew the name. Anyway, I adored Dioressence for its light, subtle fragrance. I don’t like strong perfume that takes over a room or announces an arrival before the wearer is in sight. It was my only fragrance for many years. I had the matching soap and talcum powder, eau de toilette and perfume. Expensive, but long-lasting and I always used it sparingly. It suited my personality, along with my collection of Laura Ashley summer dresses and hippy style embroidered jeans worn with floaty tops.

Sometime in 2004 I lost my sense of smell and it hasn’t come back. I put the blame on chemotherapy, radiotherapy or the illness. A small price to pay for survival but how I miss all the familiar smells, not just my favourite perfume but everyday things, like the house smelling clean and fresh, home baking and the pleasant aroma of appetising cooking going on. Occasionally I think I get a waft of something very slight and not for long, or it might be my imagination. I continued to wear Dioressence. I couldn’t smell it myself, but it wasn’t lost on others and it was still very much a part of me. It disappeared for a while and now it can be hard to find. Other Dior fragrances have pushed it out of vogue, like J’Adore, but I have no way of telling if I would like it, if it would suit me. For now, I treasure my remaining tiny drop of Dioressence and hope to find more soon.

The Laura Ashley frocks have made way for M&S long skirts and tailored trousers. Jeans are a staple wardrobe item, but plain and functional without embellishments, yes, boring even, and worn with tee-shirts or jumpers. If I remember, I’ll wear some beads but I usually forget.

My Haiku poem,

I Miss My Dioressence.

It was a scent of
Individuality
And it became my

Signature fragrance
Subtle, light and delicate
Ev’ry day and night,

For so many years
In my Laura Ashley frocks
Or embroidered jeans,

A hint of jasmine,
With a spicy bergamot
Accompanied me.


PMW 2022

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Read More

Fragrance - In Memoriam

The mornings, a time for toast and cereal, checking homework is in satchel, P E kit if required then sending children off to school. Next would be allocating jobs to the household staff and bar staff, rotating the tasks as fairly as possible and getting stuck in herself where she was needed.

My mum, hair scraped back from her naked face, comfy flat shoes, navy slacks, fine-knit pale blue jumper with the sleeves pushed up. I remember her being busy, hands on, making sandwiches to sell at lunch time and how quickly she could butter the bread; two loaves worth of grated cheese and onion, a favourite of the regular customers.  Our pubs were ale houses, before breweries franchised into eating establishments and takings became target based. Any snacks or lunch-time sandwiches provided by my parents was separate to pub takings and the income it fetched was their own.

Later, after tea and into the early evening, my mother would transform herself into the smart, glamorous, attractive woman she was. She styled her brown hair into soft curls lifted off her face and shaped neatly over her ears. Lipstick, a hint of mascara, a dress and high heeled shoes, finished off with a subtle application of Estee Lauder Youth Dew or Chanel No5. This is how I like to remember her, looking lovely, accompanying my father downstairs in the pub, leaving a waft of her favourite fragrance behind.

She died young. For years I kept an almost empty bottle of her Estee Lauder for the comfort her fragrance gave me. Eventually, what was left completely evaporated and the bottle was discarded. I still have a box of talcum powder, not that I can smell it, if it should have any scent left at all, after all these years.

My sense of smell vanished after chemo and radiotherapy. All the fabulous fragrances are lost on me now. Perfume, lilies, home-made baking, the aroma is all left to memory and imagination. I still wear my Christian Dior which I used to love, and why not? I might be wafting memories around those who care.

I found this poem,

Fragrance

The fragrance of
Love and care

The fragrance that
Repair

The fragrance which
Always reminds of welfare

The fragrance with
The power of flare

The fragrance of mother
Is the fragrance of prayer.  

 

By Gemini Girl on All Poetry

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Read More

Smell...one of the senses

As I sit and write this tears are in my eyes as some of my late husband's favourite music is playing. I was okay whilst the rock and roll played (I had a jive with the door handle), but what finished me was 'At Last '.....so my senses are still attuned to memory. Such it is with the sense of smell .

Aromas can quickly transport us to a different place, a different time.....a distant forgotten memory wells up from the past.

Smells can be uplifting. Recently its been that faint aroma of spring growth. It's not a perfume. It's more subtle. It's a newness. A reawakening. It lifts the soul and gladdens the heart. The weight is lifted from our shoulders and we shrug off winter's heavy mantle. Each season has it's 'smell'. Warm summer days smell of warm undergrowth. The evenings bring a tang of the sea (if one lives by the shore) or a peaty scent from the mountains. Autumn brings faint smells of decay, that is intense when we kick through the leaves under our feet. Winter is fresh and tangy. Does cold have a smell ? Well anyway we wrap a scarf round our mouths and are enveloped with the smell of the damp wool as we inhale.

Sensory gardens are wonderful for partially sighted persons (in fact for everyone). Each season brings different perfumes and the gardens are planted specifically with scent ...and texture...in mind. As many plants don't exude their perfume until they are brushed or crushed.

As for myself , I have a favourite perfume - Bronnleys English Fern (not available now as I've searched high and low ) ...but I have a stash stored away and the products are used on special occasions. It has been my favourite since I was 17, when I received it as a gift. So that takes me back to those teenage years, those early loves, those days when I didn't visualise getting older!

My father was very proud of his garden, which was laid to the growing of vegetables, with flowers relegated to the front garden or under the kitchen window. Every year he sprinkled 'stock' seeds and on warm winter evenings the aroma would drift into the house.

 Of course not all smells are pleasant and we quickly wind up the car windows if they are muck spreading! As individuals we can find different aromas pleasant or not. For me I can't stand the smell of parsley - especially when being chopped. This wasn't much good for a cookery teacher. I actually find the smell nauseous ! I don't like 'heavy' perfumes and often have an allergic reaction manifesting itself in serious sneezing. So again that can be difficult in the dance hall!

Cooking smells can make us salivate and in fact improves digestion and enhances the eating experience. It's complimentary to express "That smells good", to our hostess.

Animals use smell and they have a much keener sense of smell than we have. Search and rescue dogs use this when working. They greet each other by sniffing. It's thought that some dogs and cats can detect illnesses. My disabled friend has an assistance dog who detects when he is about to have a Potts attack and brings the medication. So just how ?? Do we give off some change in chemicals that alerts the dog ? It's a science still under review....

My poem today was written in 2014 and is about the senses.

     THE SENSES

      That certain piece of music
      Evoking distant memories -
      Childhood, family, dancing,
      Love, despair, laughter, grief.
      A tune stored deep in my soul
      Steps forward - makes me remember.

      That aroma briefly caught in the air
      Evoking distant memories -
      A forest, a building, a person,
      A love, an ocean, a cut lawn.
      A perfume stored deep in my soul
      Comes to mind - makes me remember.

      A touch, the sensitivity of my fingertips
      Evoking distant memories -
      A pet, a garment, a wall., a tree,
      Tall grain, a lover's skin, seashore sand.
      A sense stored deep in my soul
      A feeling recalled - makes me remember.

               

 

My picture is of gorse which grew in profusion on the cliff below where I used to live and smelt of

desiccated coconut......

Thanks for reading..breathe deep... smell the coming warm days ! Kath

Read More

Scent - the closest thing to time travel

At times a scent can be the closest thing we have to time travel. It can instantly transport us to a point in our past when we are least expecting it. It can dust off a long forgotten memory and make us laugh aloud, seemingly for no reason, confusing those around us. It can awaken a pain as raw as though experienced yesterday, causing us to reach for the tissues to stem the tears. 

This is what opening a jar of Sauerkraut did to me recently. 

Nanny

Standing at the kitchen sink

Jar in hand

I’m mesmerised by hail stones

As they batter the window 

From somewhere in the house

I hear revelry

The kids are home

Their laughter makes me smile 

I twist the lid, it doesn't budge

So I give it some elbow grease

And the lid flies off with a noisy pop

My wrist aches from the strain, my elbow is fine 

As the smell of pickled cabbage fills the air

It picks me up and takes me on a journey 

I'm ten years old

And I'm running up the path

Because I want to be the first

You envelope in a bear hug 

As I launch myself through the door

I drink in the smell of potatoes roasting in the oven

And sauerkraut simmering on the stove

You turn and exclaim in delight 

I throw myself at you

"Just a minute" you say, holding me at bay

And you pat your damp forehead with the hem of your apron

Then you pull me into you and I sink into your arms 

I nestle into your Lily of the Valley scented neck

I close my eyes

I feel loved

I feel wanted 

Next stop on the journey

I'm fourteen

And the best treat of all

I get to spend the weekend with you 

Just the two of us

No brother

No sister

No mum and dad 

It's chilly and the night is drawing in

We put a few logs on the fire

The Sound of Music is on BBC1

Your favourite film 

You settle into your armchair

With me on the rug in front of the crackling fire

I have my eye on the sideboard

The special place you keep the treats 

"Go on," you say, "help yourself"

I rummage but can't decide

"Have two," you say, so I do

I feel lucky, I feel content 

And then I'm seventeen

We move away and leave you behind

My eyes fill with tears, nothing is the same

I feel confused, I feel lonely 

But the raucous laughter in the house

Brings me back to today

I hug the jar tightly

Because now you're gone 

Yet I still feel your arms around me

My security blanket

Your apron wiping my tears away

Sad tears

Happy tears

 

Thank you for reading,

Fiona

Read More