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The Bottles on My Dressing Table (The Ed Grover Appreciation Write-Off)Oct 15 '05 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line Here-in lies a scent-based autobiography dedicated to our friend Ed Grover.
As is the case with our dear friend to whom this is dedicated, the scent bottles on my dressing table are not merely bottles of fragrant liquid. They tell stories deep and wonderful—if not always tales of wisdom and discretion. They are symbols of our (note the royal "we") many selves, and they serve a purpose that is—if not quite spiritual—at least suggestive of our attitude toward life at any given moment in time. Opium is the token of the long and satisfying love affair with Himself—my companion, best friend, and the occasional sparring partner of choice on life’s journey. The first bottle was a gift, a thoughtful gesture from a long-ago business trip and replaced as needed over many years of birthdays, anniversaries, Mother’s Days, and other events suggestive of gift giving. Spicy, exotic, and just a bit risqué, it represents the passion and closeness in our lives together. White Shoulders is the reminder of youth, a gentle floral scent appropriately suggestive of softness and naiveté. Once a young woman’s favorite for special occasions, it sits there still, waiting patiently for a much older woman’s moments of nostalgia—representing flights of fancy in search of memories not quite past. Green Tea is the clean scent of the proper business woman. Wholesome and discrete, it speaks of a time and place for good judgment and astuteness. It is the public manifestation of respectability and good taste. It will impress male colleagues in the workplace without being indecorously suggestive. Obsession is the frivolous gift of an adult daughter, an invitation by youth to encourage middle-aged sensuality and extravagance—also the presumption of youth that the frivolity of the elder generation requires carefully planned encouragement. How much the young still have to learn. Chloe Narcisse, sophisticated and complex, is the sweet and somewhat sentimental expression of carefully cultivated selfishness. We all need such moments in our lives. For me, dabbing on Chloe Narcisse is the external clue that such a moment has arrived. Chanel No. 5, the standby of legend, is neither loved nor rejected in its own right. But it must needs be part of the collection. A gift from a forgotten source, it reminds me of my mother-in-law, who loved it, and my father, who once gave a bottle to my mother even though the rent payment had to be shorted. White Diamonds is my mother’s scent. As the last gift from my father before his death, it is the sentimental scent of her widowhood. It is here on my table for her use and as a reminder that I should always enjoy the moment. Finally, Miracle, a limited edition scent and a gift bestowed by the retail executive in the family, sits casting a pool of soft lavender light on my table. Rare by definition, subtle by choice, the nearly full bottle waits for me to find a spray nozzle to replace the one that somehow disappeared. So it remains in the corner of my scent universe–and how appropriate that the channeling of a fragrant Miracle should require me to make use of my own resources. ========================= With a dab of Chloe Narcisse on the nape of the neck and a touch of Obsession on each wrist, this small essay is offered as a thank you to Ed Grover in particular, but also to all those writers whose work I have enjoyed on this particular Internet site. We have, all of us, dabbled selfishly in sharing the moments of our lives through the improvised medium of “product reviews.” We have not written for the pennies and the occasional dollars that came our way, but rather for the sheer and selfish delight of writing and sharing—and yes, for preserving—our hopes, our fears, and our joys. And with that, here goes one more selfish moment—off into the ethersphere. © DAnneC/BawBaw, 2005  |
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