Words returned, eaten

Perhaps it is only fitting that after an extended absence, the words I offer are...eaten.

Did I ever mention that one of the scent families I do not, would not, could not like is carnation?

That I can not enjoy Je Reviens in a box, or Bellodgia with a fox?  That I would not try any ouillet at the fair, that I simply could not imagine going there? 

Hello, Bellodgia parfum.  Open mouth, insert foot.

It opened the way I would expect.  There was that florist's carnation.  But I was busy, and Bellodgia had time to hang around.  And out of the blue, I found myself asking "what smells good?"  (Kind of a tricky question when one is in the midst of a sample binge; I had five to choose from.)  Not only was it lasting, I enjoyed what it had become.  It didn't rock my boat, mind you, and was not "original" or "daring" ... it wasn't the smell of the circus, or your favorite pastry, or the forest floor.

It was simply...nice.  Really nice.

So, blart, I eat my words.  In perfume form, I might appreciate this thing called...carnation.  

But I still don't like Je Reviens.  And I think the trick with any of them that work is going to be the thicker, developed version that a denser concentration allows.  Not necessarily fetid in 10 day old water, mind you...I can create that in my own living room, thank you very much, and I don't necessarily find it attractive...but the pushing back of petal after petal with slowly accumulating non-jarring tangential notes that is the concentrated version.

I did plant a tall carnation in my garden this spring, after years of sticking with the shorter pinks.  Is that a factor?  I don't know.

If you've been here before, thanks for coming back.