A Smell Reverie

I was lying in the bath having poured some Badedas into the water. I absolutely adore the smell of Badedas, which takes me back to the sixties or early seventies when my mother first bought it. This started me thinking about other smells, such as the smell of bay rum, and limes. These remind me of my childhood in Trinidad, when all the men covered their hair in bay rum, and splashed their faces with a lime cologne called 'Limacol' which I loved as a child.

Years ago in London, road resurfacer machines - huge black machines full of tar, used to trundle through the streets. Pungent though that smell was, it transported me immediately to the pitch lake in Trinidad where all the pitch comes from. As children we used to spend a day most weekends near there on the beach at Brighton on the Trinidad coast, swimming around and playing in the sun. Huge branches had been washed up into the shallow water many years before and we used to climb around on these and jump into the sea. The barrels of pitch went past on the transporter into the container ships nearby.

I can't smell jasmine without being reminded of a holiday in Tunis about forty years ago, when people wore garlands of jasmine in the evenings which scented the air wonderfully.

My mother-in-law gave me my first bottle of Shocking by Schiaparelli, which she assured me was perfect for a young girl. This probably endeared me to shocking pink because of its packaging. My mother originally wore Chanel No. 5, but later Arpege, by Lanvin. I always remember her going out in an evening gown, perfectly coiffed and made up with pale powder and red lipstick, and the sophisticated scent of Arpege.

The rather foul smell of Je Reviens takes me right back to my mis-spent teenage years. At that time I was trying 'new' scents, such as Tweed and Tiara by Revlon, but always went back to the awful Je Reviens. I really don't know how I could have possibly liked the smell. Rather like Californian Poppy, and Soir de Paris, both sold in Woolworths (I believe you can still buy Soir de Paris in the shop at the Imperial War Museum) when sniffed now, they are unutterably vile. I wonder if taste buds mature, or whether it is matter of fashion?

I do still like a rather cheaply bottled, but quite expensive scent, which my stepfather brought me back from Grasse when a child, called Habanita by Molinard. This is really powerful and I suspect I am their only customer. When my stepfather brought it back it came in a mysterious small metal bottle, and kept for years.

When I worked at University College Hospital in the nineties, I had a lazy hangover of always wearing Poison, because basically about one drop would be powerful enough to last all day. A colleague said she always knew when I was coming around the corner, and could not smell it without being reminded of me. I still have to admit to rather liking Poison, but not the new versions of it.