a document of days

Each time I put on the Ralph Lauren perfume Romance I am reminded of Italy.  Shortly before my trip there in July 2007, I received the perfume as a birthday gift from my parents.  I left the States with a full bottle (thankfully travel-sized) and arrived without any perfume at all. Sometime during my journey the top had come off of the bottle and the perfume spilled in my toiletry bag.  At the time, I was disappointed and slightly disgusted.  The scent was overwhelming; even my prescription pills tasted of Romance.  But the fragrance permeated my every memory, and now, I am thrilled to be reminded of Italy with a simple  spritz of perfume.

While beautiful photographs are priceless and the taste of local fare unmatched, there is something to be said for the way our noses can launch us back to a very specific time or place. And while the journey amid our memories is sweet, sometimes the smell that takes us there is less so.

How much do you know about garbage juice?  The stuff is so common in New Orleans that a task force was formed to monitor the companies that collect trash and leak the liquid throughout the streets.  It's nasty.  And it has a very distinct smell.  The first hint of garbage juice spun me back to the many nights Ryan and I spent bar-hopping in the French Quarter.

Much closer to our hearts is the scent of Angel's Trumpet.  When we finally cleared the pile of rotting brush in the backyard of our house on Dauphine Street, I took on the daunting task of transplanting a large tree-like plant (we had no idea what it was at the time we moved in.) It was deeply rooted and reluctant to move.  Once in its new spot, I watched it for weeks as it slowly returned to life.  I didn't know it at the time, but it would have been a significant loss if the plant didn't survive its move. During the blazing hot summers, when the sun was setting and the heat started subside, the sweetest smell would float through our yard.  We would sit outside each evening and marvel at this incredible plant.

Our noses were on high alert as we walked through the Marigny and Bywater during our visit. And while many fragrant flowers were blooming, we would have had to wait until dusk for our beloved to reveal itself.