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On The Run

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Dec-3-2004


The bus stop is right in front of the little school down the street. Of course, I was early- I’m always early, I’m never late. And so, as I stood next to the yellow sign, waiting for the getaway bus, I could hear the sounds rising out of the school, the Sinterklaas parties taking place. I was standing the closest to The Baby’s class, and could hear that the Zwarte Pieten were causing much havoc and laughter. Which soothed the fretful soul, for when I had left her, wearing a small hat resembling a steamer, made of construction paper, she was one bewildered child. Even though it was the same room, the same children surrounding her.

Creature of habit, I suppose. Most likely a genetic trait as well.

Looking through another window, I could hear the children singing and The Girl’s old teachers dancing around the room.

And then my bus came. It was rather empty for a change, I didn’t have to squish up against some teenager and listen to their phone calls, I could just watch the dikes which surround our town move past me, travel through the farmland and into the city.

Knowing the masses would be out in full force ( and discovering that I was indeed correct), I kept a simple agenda , my mission : to pick up some books for The Boy and The Father and then go to the perfume store. I’m very sure that there is another name for a perfume store. I am very sure that that name is french, and involves many end letters which are oh- so- casually dropped. But french and I don’t get along, and so I haven’t a clue as to what a perfume store is called. Officially.

I went to the bookstore first. A lovely warren of rooms on different levels, personnel wearing cable knit sweaters, it was almost my perfect store. Being a used bookstore would make it perfect for me. But it was a nice store, a comfy place to be.

I picked up the books that I had ordered last week and then headed over to the perfume store .

I used to find perfume stores very intimidating, all of those perfectly groomed women, who I am sure are now called consultants of some sort, rather than people working for a commission, hovering about, looking elegant and chic, making me feel dowdy and unkempt.

But I seem to have gotten over it. I just go in, order the big bottle, say ‘yes, that’s fine’ twice when they tell me the price.

After all, I’m not the one behind the counter, am I ?

But I do dislike perfume stores. They reek of some feminine mysteries which have passed me by, a secret world, feminine wiles in full force.

The gentle art of chemical seduction.

  1. Sivani Said,

    Parfumerie. No dropped letters either – at least according to this site:
    http://www.tiscali.co.uk/reference/phrases/french/data/shopping.html

    Just plain old “parfoom-ree”

    Even I might try it…as long as nobody is looking as if they might be listening, of course :-)

  2. Sivani Said,

    Now for perfumes.

    I’ve found that quite a lot of them (along with household perfumed sprays) give me a rather nasty headache.
    To add insult to injury, most perfumes react badly to my skin chemistry; usually they either stink outright on me, or they turn sickly, cloyingly sweet. And this is not a subjective opinion – even the most desperate commission-based sales person recoils with a glazed look in their eyes and tries to suggest: “Well, perhaps madam would like to try XYZ instead…”

    I have been fortunate in finding a few that do agree with me, and that I happen to like: Christian Dior’s Dune, for the spicy, sophisticated, mysterious times. (Well, who am I kidding, there aren’t really any of those times in my life, but a girl can dream, can’t she?) And EsteĆ© Lauder’s Pleasures – clean and fresh and ready for the day.

    And I just realized I’m turning your Comments into a blog again, so I’ll continue over at my place :-) Sorry to hog your space.

  3. sue Said,

    I’m actually allergic to all perfumes, but I will put on Chanel no.5 on odd occasions. Not that I like it in particular, but it was my Mother’s perfume. But it doesn’t smell the same on me at all.

    Oddly enough, Sally smells like my mother. Odd, odd, odd.

    Han uses that number one that pops up on the link, the little green, stripped torso. I liked the Lagerfeld better, but no one is asking me, are they ?

    But those stores ! All of those mirrors ! Not a cable knit sweater in sight !

  4. jo Said,

    I much prefer a shop like that to a department store where one is assalted by highly painted ladies spritzing, spritzing, spritzing you as you go by. My tendency to get migraines from strong scents keeps me out of them as well.
    But I do love perfume. I’m not a girly girl, my mom is not a girlie girl, but I remember my grandmother’s dressing table with cut crystal lamps on each corner that had clear and ruby glass hurricanes and made the bedroom glow in red when she put them on. Very, very boudior. Lots of bottles with the pouf on the end for spritzing. My tiny closet dressing room has a good dozen bottles in various states. I’m partial to things that smell, as they say, green not sweet.
    But the smell of a bookstore beats them all for me….

  5. sue Said,

    Nope, no perfume stories for me, nothing that is redolent of exotic women, the mysteries of the sex. I grew up in a household filled with women who were very well- and with a high price tag- groomed. Who could casually fan the papers under their noses and make judgement.

    Ultimatley, I’m a let’s have a beer and belch- oh, so discretely- sort of person.

    These things mean nothing to me.

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