Roses and Orange Blossoms

Something happened this afternoon that hadn’t happened to me in a long, long time.

I found myself in close with a woman to whom I was not related and noticing her perfume.

It was not an especially enjoyable experience for me for a number of reasons.

We were at the gym. I was 20 minutes into my aerobics and was more interested in staying upright than noticing anything else. It took all of my extra brain cells to pry the cap off my water bottle and not spill down the front of my shirt like a 2 year old graduated from his tippy cup.

I first noticed this particular young woman when the fan in the gym caused a breeze to blow from her direction to mine. The odor was unmistakable.

It was something like a strawberry milkshake that’s been left on the dash of your car for a couple of days.

In August.

Immediately, as I felt my sinuses closing in, I began mentally cursing the marketing people who made this monstrosity seem like a good idea. There didn’t seem to be a feasible escape.

Of course, the gym was full and there really wasn’t an opportunity to move even if I’d wanted.

I have to admit that I’ve been guilty of dispensing evil odors myself, although primarily when I was younger and didn’t know any better.

Mom received uncountable gallons of Avon’s Roses, Roses, especially popular in the 1970’s and 80’s. It was popular because it was a double-duty gift; not only did it offer what was then perceived as nice stinkum, but came in a decorative decanter like good scotch. Even empty, it hung around as a reminder of Mother’s Day, 1968 until the bottles finally got knocked off and broken.

Probably the worst olfactory sin that I ever committed happened on vacation in the early 1970’s. We went to Florida and I returned with a tube of “orange blossom cream perfume” for each of my grandmothers.

Mom’s mom resolved the issue by putting hers on the shelf and, “saving it for good,” she said, whenever asked why she didn’t wear it. Occasionally, during the summer, she could be cajoled into putting a tiny drop on her neck. I note that a tiny speck was sufficient to clear the barn, and she tried to make certain that company was unlikely between the time of application and a bath.

My other grandmother, having raised 3 sons and likely encountering such “gifts” in the past, knew that a quick and firm response was the only way to deal with it.

She smeared the entire tube on in one fell swoop, I suspect also when she was relatively certain that she would not encounter anyone else and a bathtub was at hand. After that, she could honestly say that it was all used up and, travelling to Florida being the only way to acquire a supply in those pre-internet days, there was no chance of replenishing the stash.

The young lady at the gym was too young to have been trying to make a grandchild happy by using up a present.

The next time I ponder adding a scent to my body......I'll try to think of Roses and Orange blossoms first.