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As we all know artificial perfumes are a feature of modern life. Usually they pass me by without notice but I had three recent encounters which lingered. Not in my nostrils presumably, but somewhere in my olfactory brain which can be a powerful memory stimulus.
Encounter the first occurred while we browsed through a shop display of rugs. After a few minutes browsing a perfumed miasma with an orange face drifted in our direction. The Perfumed One did try to assist us in rug inspection but somehow our questions were never quite processed into helpful answers on his part.
It was a strange, disconnected experience, as if the three of us were lost in a London fog with no visible landmarks and nothing to guide us but a determination to be somewhere else. We soon acted on that determination, muttered something and made for the car park, the air of which was comparatively fresh in spite of all those alarming stories about our killer atmosphere. In our experience killer atmospheres are to be found inside, not outside.
Encounter the second occurred at our local swimming baths while we watched the grandkids at their swimming lessons. The spectator area was rather crowded and I ended up sitting next to a young mother wearing rather too much perfume. It wasn’t an unpleasant perfume and for all I know it was horribly expensive but there was far too much of it. Not quite eye-watering but too much. It may even have neutralised the atmospheric chlorine. Perhaps that was a bonus.
Encounter the third was my new shower gel. I buy cheap shower gel and even then I wait until it is on offer, so its perfume component isn’t the most subtle. My latest purchase has a strong lavender aroma which I quite like but it always reminds me of furniture polish, as if I’m polishing myself in the shower. Oh well – if I ever have dreams about life as a gateleg table I’ll know why.
