The Perfume That Always Makes Me Cry

By Marla Do you have one perfume that carries such special memories, you can’t help but cry when you smell it (or for the stoic among us, want to cry without actually doing it)? During my recent, very complex move from Europe back to the United States, I have become much more intimate with my extensive perfume collection. I’ve been giving away bottles to friends, decanting others, donating some to senior centers, and wearing some long-forgotten beauties, too. It’s a lot of fun, but yesterday, I came to a small black hatbox at the back of my closet. Inside was a light blue suede pouch with a star-shaped flacon inside, filled with…Angel! And this is my favorite, most treasured bottle, and here’s why. When my family first moved to Europe, my youngest son suffered from severe respiratory problems. He’d always been the fragile one, yet the most spirited of my children as well. One night, he woke up cyanotic, blue-grey in the face, unable to breathe. In the middle of an Alpine blizzard, the Mountain EMTs carried him away to hospital. He survived, just, and spent quite a long time in hospital recovering. Since I am a nurse, I was allowed to tend to him, and I was by his side most of that time. A side effect of the strong medications he had to take was anosmia. He could barely smell an onion! Now how does Angel fit into this? When I first smelled it, I hated it. YUCK! But then a good friend of mine, a beautiful Scandinavian Amazon, began wearing it, and it was so right on her, I changed my mind. As a petite, freckled redhead, I can ‘t carry off Angel the way my Wagnerian friend can, and I didn’t try. But when she gave me a small bottle, exclaiming, “I’ll bet he can smell THIS!” I couldn’t help but wear it to the hospital. It was comforting to me and reminded me of my friend’s strength and warm presence. And yup, it cut through the anosmia, and my son said it was beautiful. (And for all you nurses out there, Angel may be the only perfume that, sprayed on the wrist, can last through a double shift and 200 hand-washings!!) Finally, my son recovered his health, and we all took a trip to London to celebrate. It was our best holiday ever, and I gave each child several tenners to buy themselves each a present at Harrod’s. My youngest whispered something to my husband, grabbed his hand, and they headed off together, in the opposite direction from the toy department. An hour later, we all got together for lunch, and my youngest presented me with a small black hatbox. Inside was a light blue, suede pouch with a small, star-shaped flacon of perfume. He said, “I wanted to give you this, instead of getting a toy, because you’re my Angel.” ___________________ I've donated $100 to the Red Cross Japan Fund thanks to your comments! Woot Woot!