Scents of Life

Jasmine, Lilac, Stetson for Women, fresh rain like smell, hint of Arctic cold in the Fall breeze, fresh cut grass, roasted meat, baked breads, soup. (I guess just about anything being cooked could be on the smell list), incense-but not the kind found in church, Grey Flannel cologne.

Jasmine reminds of the better times in China.  Lilacs, bring forth images of beautiful, warm, Spring days.  Stetson for Ladies, never fails to remind me of Julie, and those small good moments.  Fresh rain-Kelly.  Kissing her bare shoulders, and arms, and back.

Arctic cold sometimes hints of it come early.  My nostrils tingle with the first traces of winter.  Where ever I am when this happens for the first time of the season I am transported to the hometown of my youth, walking its streets or biking along on a blustery November day.  It is never long after smelling this biting cold mingled in Autumn breeze that Winter snow shrouds naked branches.

Smells of freshly cut grass are among Nature’s grandest.  There is a calming effect which for me leads to napping.  Laying on the couch as lazy, drifting Summer breezes bring scents of Bar-B-Que, sinking into sleep.

The incense in Buddhist Temples waifs into rafters, and over the faithful.  It shimmies along plump, golden, folds of the Buddha‘s robe.  His hands positioned to signal he comes to teach in peace.  Sandalwood smell gives dusty temples a countenance of noble bearing.

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Favorite Lipstick Color/Perfume

I am thinking that some of these prompts are lady-centric.  I don’t usually give much thought to lipstick, but here goes.

I would have to say I really like a deep burning red, especially being worn by a girl with brunette hair.  Other odd colors can be fascinating in a novel way, like blue or purple.  But for my money red adds rather than detracts or obscure a woman’s beauty.

When it comes to perfume I know what I like when I smell it, but seldom to I know its name.  I do remember an old girlfriend always worn Stetson for Ladies.  I find even to this day 20 years later stopping to smell that scent, where ever I am, for as long as possible, trying to conjure images of Jules neck, tanned, strains of her reddish hair trailing over her shoulder.  I remember her cute pug nose, and those expressive eyes, bright, alert, if she thought you weren’t paying attention.  Her eyes would cloud with passivity, indifference, if you were.  A wall would go up, rather it was always there.  I would just stumble into it; the mist of playfulness and joy would drop away.

I longed to be let beyond the fortifications, to be trusted, loved, accepted, smothered in warmth and wetness. I longed to feel the enormity of her being, her essence,her love of me, even if it dropped me to my knees, or crushed me beneath its weigh. I longed.

Part II-As I am thinking of what perfumes I like, and I can’t name but one, I know there is one I detest.  Of course I don;t know its name either.  But I do know it smells like an old, musty, drawer.  It smells of an elderly person.  It is as if the musty, old person smell is collected, put in a bottle, and sold to women. It has a hint of old lace, liniment oil, musty newspapers, death, and/or decaying life.  The smell reminds me of times when I would open my grandmother’s  top cabinet drawer, to get some trifle toy or gift she saved for me.  The smell horrifies me.  I suspect I will smell this scent when Death comes for me.

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