L’Heure Bleue

I have to confess, L’Heure Bleue is a better signature scent for a part of my soul than Chanel La Pausa. But it’s the part of my soul that was called pet names by a mother who gave me a named spelled strangely that no one almost ever spelled correctly (I later changed it entirely) because my grandmother had a student in her class with the same name and she couldn’t stand her. My grandmother called me by my initials growing up. It wasn’t pretty sounding and every time she called for me I felt like she had me mistaken for a tough middle-aged truck driver. It’s the part of my soul that was bullied as a child. It’s the part of my soul that wore retainers for three years followed by braces for another three years as a child. But it’s also the part of my soul that was told, “You have a beautiful smile!” by a man I talked with when I was canvassing door to door for a lady I knew who was running for the state senate when I was 19. And it’s the part of my soul that is embarrassed that I’m now wearing braces again in my late 30’s because my teeth shifted back out of place and it irritates me.

I used up my first bottle of L’Heure Bleue this winter (first photo). I hadn’t smelled it until 2015. My goodness what I was missing out on…

Of course, if you love perfume you likely at least vaguely know the whole “blue hour” pre-WWI, sad romance, Guerlain history of L’Heure Bleue. Maybe that’s why I don’t wear this as my signature either. It almost feels disrespectful. I think of all of the lost lives and lost loves from that era and I don’t want to intrude. But at times I wear it and it feels comforting and beyond perfect. Better than perfect.

I need another wearable bottle.