I promised a friend that I would not ever write about accessories or shopping or god forbid, shoes. STOP READING JOAN cuz I'm a rebel, I tell ya. Rules were made for breaking. Or bending. And blogs were made for free expression. To that end, I will now write about my perfume. I'm not sure if perfume qualifies as an accessory or not, but it's certainly lightweight, and this story has something to do with shopping... and there are even shoes mentioned, albeit not my shoes, but I'm not taking any chances. Fair Warning.
Is she gone? She's gone, isn't she? I think she's gone.
Okay, I think part of my recent & unprecedented joy is coming from the perfume I bought a bit ago. Maybe it has teeny-tiny inhalable ecstasy molecules in it? Unlikely. I'm pretty sure it contains a kind of scent-note-element of something that I recall from childhood, and it triggers a very happy long-ago memory. I'll spritz it on and about an hour later... Bliss. I get little flashes of being on vacation in Kalkaska when I was about 8. I feel just as happy & carefree as I did then. It's interesting how we have so few words to describe scents, our perceptions of them and the sense of smell in general. Suffice it to say, this stuff is brain-stemming me into a happy place and I like it. A lot.
The other part is that I am associating my perfume with a recent happy memory. I went on a little trip with my sister, Allyson, a few weeks ago to Vegas. We spent most of our time talktalktalking, shopping, ordering room service & enjoying fancy dinners. We had a great time. But Vegas tends to be a little over-stimulating for me and one particular day I was beginning to feel exhausted from, um, Vegas being Vegas. Just then, on the horizon I saw a Tommy Bahama store. It was like a peaceful oasis, right there in the middle of smut-filled visual & audial chaos. I spent a long time in that store, looking at everything, trying on watches, perfume & clothes, hanging out in the dressing room longer than was necessary, playing with the purses, stroking the men's silk shirts, chatting with the sales gal, and just generally soaking up the laid-back island vibe for as long as possible. When Allyson finally ran out of slutty shoe stores to browse in, she came and got me. (mind you, she didn't buy slutty shoes; hers are cute) I walked out of Tommy Bahama with an overpriced shirt and some complimentary perfume samples. Addicts always say the first one was free, don't they?