I love staying in hotels. Always have, since I was a little kid. Doesn’t matter where it is – I’ve stayed at the uber-fabulous, four-star Gritti Palace in Venice, Italy and the spartan, no-star Camelot Motor Inn in Cape May, NJ – and I get the same sense of excitement when I walk into the lobby for the first time.
Here we were on Fourth of July weekend, at yet another Courtyard by Marriott. I knew what to expect – I could describe the surroundings to you blindfolded. I closed my eyes and visualized the usual pedestrian earth tones of terra cotta, deep Indian red, tangerine and chocolate brown to compliment the faux-adobe stylized lobby. Accents of huge earthenware vases with spindly, sad pussy willows sticking out of them. A fake fireplace with brass kokopelli figurines dancing across the mantel. And an overwhelming aroma of cloyingly sweet citrus-cinnamon potpourri, so strong and pungent that my eyes would begin to tear as soon as we crossed the threshold.
But as the automatic doors flung open and we rolled our luggage in, my nostrils 
immediately perked up and stood at attention. What a lovely, familiar smell! I stopped, inhaled. Yes… that was blackberry… and musk. My sensory memory kicked in without missing a beat. Our hotel smelled like L’Artisan Parfumeur Mure et Musc, one of my favorite fragrances! Or was it more like Trish McEvoy No. 9 Blackberry & Vanilla Musk, in the cool triangular bottle? No, it was definitely the L’Artisan! And I couldn’t be happier… because at least for the weekend, I was living in a perfume bottle.