THE first time it happens is a dark winter’s afternoon, not quite a year after her death. I’m at my desk working, and there it suddenly is: sharp, glassy-green, with that faint, musky undertone that catches at the back of your throat.
I recognize it instantly: the scent that hung in our hall every time she came to supper. The perfume that clung to her coat, her scarves, detectable sometimes for hours on my babies’ hair after she’d been carrying and kissing them.
— Do read The Smell of Loss at The New York Times, you'll be glad you did. Hat tip to Suzy Q!
This is one wonderful story about the power of memory, scent and the difficulty we have in truly understanding the workings of our brain. Thanks to both of you for providing the link.
It really is a lovely article. I want it to be Caleche and not White Linen, LOL…
Well I love White Linen.
A great film about grief and loss, and how it may affect a person is Ozon’s Sous le sable (Under the Sand). I was instantly reminded of it reading this.
Thanks!
And we need not settle White Linen vs Caleche since the author did not 🙂
I’m suddenly reminded of how this could be transformed in a sketch of Python proportions, featuring 2 raging perfumistas, each armed with her bottle of choice 🙂
Perfect! Meet you at dawn…
Beautiful story . I hope she finds her mother in law’school perfume. It may give her comfort to take the top off the bottle and just sniff from time to time. I do this with Coty L’origan whenever I open it. It was my grandmother’s favorite perfume.
How nice to have that memory!
I have a very good scent memory. I don’t have a signature scent, and I sometimes wonder what my kids will remember me smelling like. I asked my son recently what he thought I smelled like, and he said ” I don’t know, good ” I guess I will take it.
LOL — you might as well take it.
Robin, thank you so much for this story & the link – it’s a beautifully written article & stoked some memories for me for sure.
Was anyone else REALLY hoping she would find the exact perfume in the end? Especially as she approaches the Estee Lauder counter… It just seems like its aiming for that conclusion! But obviously the lack of closure is perfect.
Yes, I was hoping! I was thinking, “Halston? Bandit?”
I keep a “perfume museum” of samples of the scents of departed loved ones. I know it sounds a bit morbid, but it’s such a poignant reminder to me.
Thanks for posting the link, Robin. I temporarily stopped my NYTimes subscription on account of vacation and would have missed this. Like you, I was hoping it was Caleche but since the author did not really say despite how she closed the article, we’ll never know and I’m cool with that!
What a great article. I have hesitated many times writing this, but, well, here goes. I had a similar experience after my twin brother passed away. I would smell his smell at the oddest places. The last place I smelled it was in the sterile hospital hallway on the way to have my son (born 1 year + 364 days from the anniversary of his death). I had a great Buddhism teacher many years ago who said that when you are reincarnated, it’s like your soul is your luggage, but the person who picks it up at the airport isn’t you. It’s kind of weird but that’s how I think of my son; that maybe he has my brother’s soul in this life.
Katrina, what a wonderful experience. Thank you for sharing it.
I love scent memories.
I was hoping for an ending with Chanel Cristalle Eau Verte, don’t know why.