Let's Make a Deal

Who can show me an oddball selection of perfume samples?  First person who can show me at least three seemingly unrelated perfume samples gets to see what's behind Door #1.

What's that you say?  Simmer down!  You...and you...and you... have a stash you brought with you to the blog studio today?  That purposely or accidentally travels with you beyond your temperature and light controlled shoe box once upon a time sweater drawer special place for keeping perfume?

Ah.  Very good.  I'll show everybody door #1.  But first, let's take a look at the silly little organza pouch which caused my perfume knowledgeable friend to say "That's the oddest collection...that's just weird.  Hmmm..." as she looked through my bag o' treasures.

This bag is one I tossed together for a weekend trip out of town.  I had to satisfy multiple goals:  Have something I could wear if I decided I needed perfume (and one of my own at that), have something I could try if I decided I wanted to test drive a perfume (very different from comfortable tossing on a scent and knowing what the result will be), have something to share with a friend.  And then there were the oddballs--one that I might put on if I decide not only do I want perfume, I'm up for a challenge.

And then there's the simple "I dunno, it ended up there somehow."

But it adds up to a nice, if odd, little wardrobe.  That travels well tucked into a side pocket.

Here's the line-up:

• Cuir de Lancome
• Daybreak Violin
• L'Ombre Fauve
• Pierre de Lune
• unmarked 1ml...hmm...sharp green citrusy
• micromini of Chamade
• unmarked 2ml atomizer...bitter...old...leather? (just sniffing the orifice without spraying)
• manufacturer's samp of Parfum de Therese

In light of the subject matter of the previous post, I am having a juvenile chuckle at the expense of that parenthetical clarification of the 2ml atomizer.  (Namely, my dog.  He of the hot spot and the metal chewing habit.)

Any hoo-how, whatcha got up there is one Emperor's Clothes scent (Pierre de Lune...are you sure you applied that?), one easy leather (the Lancome), one fascinating but challenging (Parfum de Therese), one proven winner (Chamade), one something to give a drive before making any judgement (Daybreak Violin), one proven winner that has for some reason been on hiatus (L'Ombre Fauve), and a couple of things that I think I knew what they were once but whose mystery could provide a little recreational investigation if I were so inclined.

Come to think of it, this is NOT the collection I packed for my weekend.  That one was a little more purposeful.  What the heck is this?

???

To channel Ronald Reagan (perhaps in more ways than simply parroting), "I do not recall."  Hmm.  All I can say is, the Patou Cocktail and vintage Miss Balmain samples I've collected since will make a nice addition to the mystery bag.  The Cocktail adds something with sparkle, and the Miss Balmain adds another something to test drive.

Of course, I'm preoccupied with trying to remember what I purposely gathered for that weekend.  Am going to go drag THAT pouch out shortly.

And making a mental note to self:  Be sure to pack labels with those empty vials you always have at the ready.

Mental Rehearsal

You perhaps are already familiar with the concept of "mental rehearsal," wherein performers practice by dancing/playing/acting a piece entirely in their head. The concept first gelled for me as a bona fide practice when I heard Yo-Yo Ma explain in an interview that he spent so much time travelling, he had very little time with his cello outside of his performances. Therefore, he used his time on airplanes to mentally practice, going over the intricacies of a piece, imagining fingerings, bowings, phrasings--not just mechanically, but how his body would execute the performance, what he would be thinking, what he was trying to say.

Dancers can do the same, as can actors, surgeons, athletes. When it comes to the body executing a performance, practice makes better...and mental imagery counts as practice. Which is on my mind today, because I miss my sniffer, and have been attempting a little mental rehearsal of the olfactory kind.

What scents lend themselves to rehearsal? Here are a few that my imagination has visited in the past few days. Not necessarily because they are favorites, but because I realize they generate strong and clear imagined physical responses.

The bubbly aldehydes of Chanel No. 5 and Arpege. The upper reaches of my nose actually open up a bit (okay, they try), because when I recall what I would smell, my body remembers how those bubbles of No.5 go right to the top of the inside of my nose and hang there. And hang, and hang. Whereas in Arpege, there's a quick mid-entry period, a zip to the top, and a settling of the bubbles, slowly descending.

The low in my nose, deep in my throat edibility of a gourmand like Ambre Naguile. Which connects me to simply low & sweet and nearly tastable leather or comfort scents, like PG L'Ombre Fauve, Lancome Cuir de Lancome.

Then there are scents that move around, like Hermes 24, Fauborg, which threatens to bubble like an aldehyde (I can feel the vibrations beginning), then settles into a veneer with a rumble underneath (kind of like the way a comfort scent feels, but with a bubbly brook somewhere in the distance).

It dawns on me that this hasn't been a mental "rehearsal" so much as a mental review; I am attempting to recapture, not rehearsing for improvement. Nostalgia embodied, perhaps? Since I was pretty much trying to recapture how I remembered things feeling, as well as smelling, perhaps this is ultimately an opening of the door onto the practice room before the performance is ready. And ultimately, practicing what? Isn't it the perfume that communicates? Or does the way my body works with it count as part of the message?

I recall the soprano in Ann Patchett's Bel Canto making the comment that she never allowed people to see/hear her practice. Would that I had been so wise...nonetheless, thanks for indulging me.

If you've got time for a longer read, there's a nice piece on mental rehearsal and "physical genius" here (a 1999 article from The New Yorker, found on gladwell.com).