Sometime in the last ten years I came to the realization that everything I observe, hear, taste, inhale, process, digest, or soak up through osmosis I do in a sensory way. Translation: virtually everything makes me think of fragrance!
I don’t know why it took me so long to figure this out, I’ve been doing it since I’m four years old… when my grandmother Rose first brought me a little wrapped, triple-milled, highly fragranced soap from the Ritz Hotel in Paris and my sense of smell stood at attention, saluted and my potent attraction to scent was born.
I’m in the Strand bookstore – the sweet, damp smell of vintage books and brittle, yellowing newspaper wafting to my nostrils. And my thoughts immediately gravitate to CB I Hate Perfume In the Library, which really *does* smell like a room full of well-loved tomes. Or Chanel Cuir de Russie, a beautiful portrayal of pungent, tanned leather, worthy to bind the complete works of Shakespeare or Dickens.