Of all the senses …

… the one I think is the most seductive, even more than ‘touch’, is our sense of smell. It is certainly the most evocative, at least it is for me. And it’s the most smelldifficult to capture with words. Which is why writing copy for a perfume can be so challenging.

Last week I wrote about memories and some of the triggers that cause them. A friend of mine commented on how scents trigger memories for her. She’s so right. They do. Powerful ones, at that. And then when I was at the market last week one of my first stops was for bread. No sooner did I idle up to the counter, then the sales gal helping me
inhaled deeply, sighed gently, smiled broadly and asked me if I was wearing patchouli.

She was referring to my perfume.

Indeed, it does have patchouli in it.

In case you’re not familiar with it, it’s rather woodsy, or musky. Earthy. I happen to love it; and every fragrance I’ve ever been attracted to has had patchouli as an ingredient. Not that I knew that until I dabbed the last few droplets remaining in my bottle of eau de toilette behind my ears.

Quite a while ago I blogged about the horror of having to find a new perfume after Gucci sold the Saint Laurent

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Day 2. Peachy Keen


Mmmmm … peaches.  I love them.

I love how they look, how they feel, how they taste; and, I love their scent.  Peaches are voluptuous.  They’re sensuous.  They’re succulent.  They’re  fragrant. They remind me of the film, Tom Jones, which probably had one of the sexiest scenes of two people eating in movie history.  And for me, they are also the essence of Summer.

Enjoying a peach involves so many senses — olfactory, visual, tactile and taste.   Right off the top they are lovely to look at — round, with gentle curves, in shades ranging from cream to coral to red, from yellow to almost orange.  Their perfume is irresistible — at least to me; and I often wonder what the response might be if we (women) dabbed some peach nectar behind our ears before going out, instead of our regular eau de toilette.  And then there’s the feel of them, experiencing the different textures — biting through the delicate, protective layer of fuzzy outer skin before you can get to the soft, silky, moist and toothsome flesh inside.

When it comes to peaches I’m a purist:

No cobblers, pies or ice cream for me.  Oh no, I prefer my peaches in their natural state, so I can enjoy them at their very best.  Halved, very lightly grilled and topped with a dollop of plain, Greek yoghurt.  Sliced and placed on top of my cereal.  Or, like I often do — hunched over the sink, whole fruit in hand, ready to savour every bite.  Juices running down my chin and over my fingers, leaving me somewhat sticky, but so satisfied. Licking my fingers when no one’s watching.

I do have one exception, though.  I am fond of Bellini’s (peach nectar and Asti Spumonte).  But   Continue reading