A magical place

I remember, when I was about 7 or 8, my grand-mother still had her house. We would go and visit every weekend, and every other day during the summer.  In my mind, it was a magical house.

For one thing, she had a living room that was probably more like the classic drawing-room. It was a simple room, with couch and chairs, but without a TV. It had a fireplace -electric mind you- and an upright piano that had beautiful carvings. It was a Heintzman & Co with a beautiful sound and real ivory keys. As kids, we played Chopsticks endlessly on this beautiful instrument.

The property was surrounded on two sides by tall lilac trees. At the front of the house were two hydrangea trees that turned pink every fall. The backyard was invaded by fragrant lily-of-the-valley. Two large plum trees, one with small yellow plums and one with blackish blue plums grew over an old fashioned wooden swing for 4. Finally, there was a snowball tree. That name would sound magical to any kid. It was certainly much more intriguing that the correct Viburnum Opulus.

In her washroom, my grand-mother kept strange unknown objects. She had a square box in which she kept her teeth at night, strange cobalt glass jars of Noxzema cream, Pepsodent toothpaste, etc… She also had a milkglass bottle of Jergens lotion that looked like the bottle in I dream of Jeannie. The smell of this lotion was haunting.

 

That house was sold a few years later. My grand-mother moved in with us, in a newly built apartment on the second floor of our house.

Some of the lilac trees were transplanted to my parent’s house and are now starting to grow at my cottage. Since no-one in the family had room for the Heintzman & Co, my grand-mother had to pay $50 for some guys to come and take the piano to a scrapyard.

What brought all those memories back: Louve by Serge Lutens. Strangely, it smells just like that Jergens lotion that my grand-mother kept.

Memories never leave you.

 

The Olfactive family

I grew up in Québec. The winters there are cold. The winters are VERY cold! People have to dress for the season.

Christmas and New Year’s parties would bring dozens of relatives for dinner, drinks and for card games. Since people would be dressed with layers upon layers of clothes, you usually needed to have an area designated for all the boots and coats.

The boots would end up in the basement, on a large carpet or on some old towel. But more often, the boots would simply end up in the bathtub. The logic being that the wet, slushy boots would create less of a mess in the tub as the snow would just melt and drain away. At the end of the party, the tub could be hosed down.
As for the coats, they would typically end up piled up on a bed. For the kids, this pile of fragrant coats was an irresistible playground. I was certainly attracted to it. 

The curly Persian lamb coat smelled like grandma’s Emeraude (Coty), the soft mink was giving off hints of aunt Y’s Miss Dior (the REAL one). The big cashmere overcoat was uncle P’sunmistakable mixture of Pierre Cardin and Export A, while aunt G’s coat was always a surprise Avon fragrance: Sweet Honesty, Imari, Topaz... I often ended up falling asleep in this soft, fragrant, comforting pile of coats.

While I had some relatives who wore perfumes, most of them were on my mother’s side of the family. I can’t recall a single person on my father’s side who wore perfume.

 

In my own family, my dad was the only one to wear fragrance. Granted, it was aftershave, but he never ever forgot to splash on his aftershave in the morning. My dad wore Old Spice. At the time, I didn’t think that this was a glamorous as my uncle’s YSL or Pierre Cardin, but I did like it. I loved it actually. I remember fighting with my brother so that I could sit behind my dad in the car, just so I could smell his Old Spice.

 

Strangely enough, my mom didn’t really wear perfume. She used scented bath products, mostly Avon’s Skin So Soft, and she did have Blue Grass (Elizabeth Arden) body powder that came in a container that looked like a Chinese lantern. At some point I bought her a bottle of Amazone (Hermès). She also wore Anais Anais (Cacharel) and Ombre Rose (Jean Charles Brosseau) but there is not one scent though that I can truly identify with my mother. There’s not one scent that would instantly make me think of her.

 

Who wore the scent in your family?

What fragrances trigger memories of your loved ones?

 

 

My first memory

What is the very earliest memory that you have of a scent?

 

Thinking of the first memory that you may have is already difficult at the best of times, but the first memory of a scent? Impossible! And yet, scents are all around us and in a split second they can trigger the memory, however fleeting, of a place, a person, or of a moment.

Before getting married, my mom worked in a department store. I have never been clear which department she actually worked in, but she had brought home a whole box of scented cards. They were sample cards for Chantilly de Houbigant. This was before the sample vials. Those were blotting paper cards, slightly larger than a playing card. They had a picture of the perfume bottle on one side and came pre-sprayed with the fragrance. Those cards were to be given to clients. Why they ended up at our house…. I don’t want to know!

Years later, married and with kids, my mother was still using those cards as drawer liners. They were everywhere. Every sweater, t-shirt, shirt smelled of Chantilly. I remember going through drawers just to find those cards and to inhale that –by then- almost gone perfume.

Do you have an early scent memory?