Makes Scents to Me (Part I)

Back in the day, this
little bottle couldn't have
cost more than 25 cents.
Today, it's listed on eBay
for $35!!!

            The very first scent I can ever remember using was Tinkerbell toilet water. Actually, I think it belonged to my sister, but that didn’t stop me from “borrowing” it. I’d liberally douse myself with its sweetness before I headed outside to play. The scent lingered about as long as it took the alcohol in the water to evaporate, and that most likely was a good thing. The smell of baby-powder mixed with a six-year-old's sweat couldn’t have been a good combination.

Those of a certain age
will remember this
iconic blue bottle.

            From Tinkerbell, I graduated to Evening in Paris, which once again I borrowed--this time from my mother. In fact, it was the very bottle I’d bought for her at Woolworth’s for Christmas. For some reason, she didn’t use it much herself.









           Junior high and high school found me reeking of Heaven Sent. I didn't personally care for the smell all that much, but the TV ads insisted it would make me "a little bit naughty but heavenly," or   --I'm almost too embarrassed to write this-- like "an imp wearing angel wings." So I went with it. 

            My first gift of perfume from a boy was—what else in the late ‘60s?—Youth Dew by Estee Lauder. I loved it then, but now...pee-YOO! And as I think back on it, I suspect the boyfriend might have distributed several bottles of it. pee-YOO to him, too.
 

My dislike of this perfume might
have more to do with its
association to a certain boyfriend
rather than the actual scent.
 

            Fortunately, in the ensuing years, my taste in smells (does that even make sense?) grew more sophisticated and, I hope, more subtle. And these days, my favorite fragrances don’t come from a fancy bottle at all. The original intent of this post was to write about those, but as you can see I got sidetracked. I hope you'll check out my next post when I share my current favorite perfumer. 

 

           In the meantime, do you have some nasal nostalgia you'd care to share?