Daily scents and nonsense

It was a beautiful day. Simply perfect, unlike most of the days we've had this spring and what there's been of summer. The sky was a clear blue. The clouds were small and passed quickly. It wasn't too hot, nor was it too cool (as it could be here in Maine in August), and it was nice and dry. What more could one want? I sat outside and knit.

Dick received his new Mac, was sent the wrong one, had hours of frustration with Apple, which proved to have about the worst customer service I can possibly imagine. My brand loyalty has been waning over the last year or so, and this was the final nail in the coffin for me. I was nearly astonished about their complete lack of caring whether they did right by a customer that I called myself to see if things might go better. They did not. If I went into details right now, my blood pressure might go up, and you don't need the details. All I can say is that in the last six months or so I've been surprised at how poor the service has been with a number of large purchases, and this seems strange, especially given the condition of the economy. I want to tip my hat to Maidenform, once again, for their fine customer service. So, to hell with Apple. . .they could have ruined an otherwise perfect day, but it was much too nice a day to ruin. Dick's still getting a Mac (sometime or other). Me, I would not.

I got a Crazylibellule and the Poppies fragrance from the Les Garconnes line around the same time as Dick got the wrong computer. It's Pour Gabrielle, with notes of jasmine, peony, ozonic flower, cedar, incense, leather, vanilla and elemi. At first whiff, I was surprised at the complexity of this inexpensive (and terribly cute) stick of solid perfume, though my second take reaction to the scent was that it smelled like some bug dope I used as a kid. I applied a bit to my wrists and commenced knitting, ignoring the warning sign that it might give me a head ache. I hate the smell of bug spray. Sure enough, as I warmed up while knitting with wool in the sun (perfect day or no), the smell grew stronger. I could not pick out any notes. My brain had fixated on "bug dope" and I started to feel slightly nauseated. A thorough scrubbing did not get the smell out of my nostrils.

When this happens, the only remedy is applying a beloved scent, but today I did not do that. I wish I could recall exactly what I wound up doing, but I can't seem to. I tried, in vain, to find some Terre D'Hermes that smelled heavenly on a friend who came to visit this past weekend. I know I've tried the Hermes before, but that's yet another thing I can't remember (uh oh). Instead, I stumbled on something else I'd been meaning to try. Whatever it was, it had a strong peppery, bitter lime note and obliterated the memory of the Pour Gabrielle. But that started to bother me, too. I woke up with a headache and I really had no business fooling around with scents that weren't soothing. Anything lavender would have been fine, but no, I was set to discover something new today, and nothing was going to stop me. What I wound up doing was creating a fragrance stew. I covered the forgotten lime scent with some CB I Hate Perfume Fire From Heaven, and when it seemed that that was too weak, I followed that up with some Ginestet Le Boise. At this point, I think I was suffering from a bit of anosmia, for I really could not smell Le Boise, and it's a fairly strong fragrance, with named notes of cedar, sandalwood, spices, and vanilla (though I smell patchouli in there, but no one else has mentioned it). If I can't smell Le Boise, even if there are plenty of stronger fragrances out there, I should just quit and go back to my knitting. So, I did, and about a half an hour later I realized I smelled like a perfume shop. A good one, mind you, but still. . .good thing I didn't have to go to an office party.

It's almost eight hours since I went into this fragrance frenzy and I can still smell all of it on me, except (thankfully) the Pour Gabrielle. Poor Gabrielle, I wish I could have liked her.

Photo note: Knitting on the street in Georgetown, Wales. For more beautiful black and white photographs of the people in Wales, circa 1972, go here.