It is possible to overthink things.
I know this. I know it in my head, in my heart, in my gut.
That said, I am proceeding with this post.
You see, I found myself facing 1-2 hours in an endodontist's chair. I am not a fan of any form of dentist, though my current dentist is affable enough and seems to be competent. It's not him; it's me. I don't like procedures going on in my mouth, I've got a troublesome gag reflex, I don't like catching flies. My mouth is small. Sometimes it hurts. Once, in my youth, a dentist removed an "extra" permanent tooth, and made a joke about saving it for a transplant. I believed him. I still do. Which irks me, because, strangely, I still have a baby tooth in the *same quadrant* of my mouth. "Extra"? Hmmmmm. But I digress.
(Going off on tangents is NOT overthinking. Don't worry; I'll get there.)
So, over an hour in the chair, pretending to be calm. Just fine. A perfect time for a comfort scent. Except not. Because...two people other than myself will be sharing my personal space. And I'm a courteous person, who doesn't wish to make them uncomfortable for half of an afternoon. Plus, I'm a practical person. It wouldn't really be in my interest to have people wielding drills, needles, swabs, tweezers, and the like, finding themselves unhappy, or queasy, or uncomfortable as they dangle said weapons tools within inches of my face and gaping mouth, would it now?
On top of that, I'll be compromised when it comes to comfort huffing. No putting the wrist to the nose for a relaxing snarfle. No applying enough to the throat to send wafts my way...what merely "wafts" to me might be oppressive to someone else. Not even behind my ears, for the same reason.
Which means I have to both waft to suit me, but not waft too much. If that can be done.
But wait, there's more: If I'm really considering the angles, there's the whole "do I want them to be comfortable? Or alert?" Better to be alert, of course. But not too much so; a little relaxing is good. Aware, but relaxed. That's a good zone. Good for all of us.
(Right around now is where you might think I'm overthinking the whole thing. I would beg to differ, but we can take this up later.)
Ambers are therefore out. Too much comfort, not enough focus. Chypres are out. Too much danger of seeming off-putting or distracting attention. Florals don't even flitter across the screen. (FOCUS, people; pretty has nothing to do with this purpose!) Cologne-like somethings might be good...naw...no waft from that by the time I arrive. And then my mind's eye sees the bottle before I can even articulate how/why it could be just the thing.
Poor thing. It's been tucked away, one of the ones I keep in a box in the semi-accessible space. That's right; I've got current rotation, deep storage, and something in between. (Again, you might think this is overthinking, but it makes selection that much easier. For me.) Mint green, with silver raised print. See, even the color is settling with a hint of focus. I can smell it in my head, and I think that's probably it. Spritz once before showering to make sure. Which is kind of funny, given that my wrists were hosting a 1980's retro-session for my early in the day routine. Funny, because this scent is all this decade.
Gentle touch, but carries just enough. Never overpowering, but good lasting power. A spank of citrus to sharpen your mind, but iris to provide comfort without somnambulance. It was everywhere for a while...on people, on the blogs. But haven't heard much about it in a couple of seasons.
Prada. Infusion d'Iris.
I'm back now. All is well. And I didn't really waft, but I *was* pretty relaxed. Who knows if it was enough trace of scent, or simply being confident in my choice. Or maybe Masters of Guitar on my iPod.
I can huff it still, *if* I raise my arm to my nose. Very nice. We'll see if it still works after all the anesthetic wears off.
(If it all comes down to that, I can't be a horrible overthinker. Right?)