L’Heure Bleue Part II

I bought myself a bottle of vintage L’Heure Bleue. I think I’ll wear it when I want to feel hopeful about love. About happiness.

Tired from the garden but I’ll go back out once more for the day…
The house needs to be cleaned too though.

You know, you might wonder: Does Mark (the father of my two kids and the man I’m currently separated from) like a particular perfume on me? Or does he like to smell a particular perfume in general? Umm. Well… Short answer: No.

Dirt under my nails.

Actually, it’s kind of funny. He barely ever smells anything I wear and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s commented on my perfume. The one he seemed to like best was Casmir by Chopard. He made a positive comment on it once without being asked what he thought first (I’ve often asked).

Even though perfume is a hobby of mine that he has encouraged very kindly over the years me wearing perfume has not been “a thing” for us. I tried to make it one but it never happened.

While we were dating I fervently wore Dior Miss Dior Chérie, which is still a fragrance that evokes a lot of memories for me both good and bad. However, Mark barely recognizes Miss Dior Chérie. He’s not anosmic but…

Anyway… I love wearing L’Heure Bleue.

A few posts back I talked about how I hope to find my soulmate in the afterlife if I don’t find them while I’m alive. And, while that might sound fanciful or at worst idiotic to some people it’s something I actually genuinely comfort myself by contemplating at times. Not entirely seriously because I can’t logically do that of course but…I like to think that it’s not entirely impossible either. I take it both seriously and not.

Actually I’ve had two bizarre things happen to me that speak to it not being impossible.

Once I had a startling dream when I was a genuinely young lady. Some would likely call it a lucid dream. I met a young man who seemed to be my soulmate. And it really was almost like being awake. It felt real. I even felt like I was still with him as I woke up and it made me not want to wake up. He was just that wonderful of a man (provided he was supernatural of course and not just my imagination)…

Then once when Mark and I were visiting England we got into a bad fight late at night at a very old bed and breakfast in Penzance where we were staying and he later said that he saw weird lights flying over my head that he ignored at the time. (He wouldn’t make something like that up.) And while it happened I felt someone touch me. It felt like a human male hand. It scared me so much I froze and promptly asked Mark if he’d somehow managed to touch me from where he was. He hadn’t. We stopped fighting, quickly packed up all of our things and spent the rest of the night sleeping in our rented car.

Last night I read a review on Fragrantica about how L’Heure Bleue is a haunted fragrance. To me that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Not all non physical beings are likely good. But, I do wonder about Purgatory… And when life can feel like living Purgatory L’Heure Bleue is delightful. I look forward to wearing it again (I’m keeping my sealed bottle sealed). Also, to double-down on that I think I’ll buy Après L’Ondée in August around the time Mark and I were married.

Why not.

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.