My partner Tim occasionally hosts BBQ gathering for his friends. Among them there is a small group of women who are buddies within their own circle. Tim will tell the “big sister” about the upcoming BBQ, and she will tell the rest to come along. There’s one who never shows up and Tim wonders why. “She said she wasn’t invited. It’s improper to go to someone’s house without an invitation. It’s improper,” says the “big sister”. “Everything must be proper, according to her.”
I finally had a chance to meet her at a dinner and she was indeed very “proper”. Tall and slender, beautiful and well- mannered, with perfect dinning etiquette. I had been told that she never ever wore jeans and she played piano at the Sunday church, and her mom fantasized about being in the upper class and taught her everything needed to be a lady.
The second time I saw her was at her wedding. She was at her 40s; although I barely knew her, I could tell she couldn’t wait for her duke from Downton Abbey to rescue her anymore. She was marrying a professor, excellent for her, but compared to her, he was almost vulgar. Stupid jokes, high-fiving his lab buddies for finally getting a trophy wife, yahoo yahoo, I felt a little embarrassed for her.
And so, I would like to play a little game of “Scent-me-please” on her. I choose Lubin’s Nuit de Longchamp – a vintage floral full of grace and elegance with a demure projection; it doesn’t wow anyone the first time you smell it, but only if you want to know it better then you will detect its complexity. An aldehydic floral with a touch of chypre, a little bit of nutmeg and cardamom to get the conversation started. I wish her the best.