Scent-sational

One of the things I'm discovering about myself in my transformation journey is that I am a sensory being. One of my superhero powers is a hyper sensitive sense of smell.
Last night at meditation someone smelt so wonderful, filling the room with a clean, shower emollient smell and I inhaled it pleasurably.
A scent creates a scene in my mind. Or takes me back, invoking long lost memory. Like the smell of purple lantana or mown grass, or a fashion show.

Theatre productions always have a certain smell. I have a conspiracy theory that prior to a show a scent is omitted to invoke a certain emotion in the audience. Or maybe its just the graceful grey-hair-swept-back-into-a-french-chignon woman sitting next to you. 


I have a penchant for man-fumes in particular. I love the way men smell. Aftershave, leather, scotch, cigars, engine grease, board rooms. 

I actually wear man-fumes because I want the scent to engulf me like a big bear hug all day long. They are a lot stronger, fresh, masculine. Maybe its my inner male needing satisfaction, or maybe I just crave a man, or five, in my life.

I wear duality fumes from Hermes. Hermes Voyage is my scent du jour. Hermes Jardin Sur Le Nil as well. Or just pure man - YSL L'Homme or Penhaligon's Opus 1870 (from a certain Golden Jew).

For the longest time I coveted Chanel Egoiste, an olfactory ecstasy for me. It would leave me giddy, faint, whenever the base notes swaggered into range. I made the mistake of giving it to a man I thought would be mine forever and now when I detect the familiar fragrance my heart squeezes slightly for the spot at the nape of his neck, his warm skin drenched in it; for what was and what could have been and what is clearly nothingness now.


*Sniff*