written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label floaty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label floaty. Show all posts

Tuesday, 17 February 2026

Charm - In Search of Charm


In Search of Charm’ by Mary Young. This book should have been returned to Palatine Secondary School library in 1970. Oops, my mistake, but now that I’ve dug it out from one of my many bookcases, I think I’ll read it again and see how the world has changed fifty odd years on. At school, we were encouraged to walk properly upright, shoulders back, no slouching. Deportment included doing this carrying a book on our heads. This was the sort of thing covered in the book. I remember learning the correct way to open and close a door when entering or exiting a room. I also remember that it was considered acceptable to smoke on a train, but not on a bus, and certainly not outside on the street. This was all aimed at girls becoming ladies. I’ve no idea what the boys did, if anything. They continued to charge about like apes.

I was an impressionable fifteen year old in 1970. I idolised Twiggy, though all I had in common with her was incredibly skinny legs and an eye for fashion. I didn’t have her gorgeous face, still don’t. I was a young lady, behaving mostly in a lady-like manner. I loved my trips to stay with family in London which would always include a visit to Carnaby Street where I would look for something delicate and floaty to wear. And beads, they were my signature accessory.

It’s obvious to me now, as a mature, hopefully lady-like woman, that I grew up in a time when girls were being trained, if that’s the right description, to become good wives. My aunt told me that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. I get by, but I’m not the Cordon Bleu that she once was. Luckily, I married a man who is an excellent cook and perfectly capable of making a delicious meal. Presenting ourselves as easy on the eye by looking nicely groomed was important, too. Um, for self-esteem, first.

A friend of my mother’s had a fascinating charm bracelet that gave me such joy to look at. It was gold and stuffed with many charms. Something had a folded ten-shilling note inside, something else a pound note. I’d never remember it all, but I loved looking at it and finding things I’d previously missed. It must have been worth a small fortune and it must have been really heavy. Just something that has stuck in my memory.

I expect that re-reading ‘In Search of Charm’ will fill me with horror. Women are equal. We can come out of the kitchen. I had my own mortgage when I was single.

I chose this poem because I liked it.  

The Charm

Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air,
Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair,
Then thrice three times tie up this true love’s knot,
And murmur soft ‘She will, or she will not.’
Go burn these pois’nous weeds in yon blue fire,
These screech-owl’s feathers and this prickling briar,
This cypress gathered at a dead man’s grave,
That all my fears and cares an end may have.
Then come, you fairies! Dance with me a round;
Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound.
In vain are all the charms I can devise:
She hath an art to break them with her eyes.

Thomas Campion (1567 – 1620)

Thanks for reading, Pam x

Tuesday, 26 April 2022

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