Baccarat Tough

Ok. I lied.

The first time I lied was as a child. I may have lied before this occasion but I recall it best when I was in a pre-school. My mother taught at a religious pre-school and I was enrolled there because of it.

I told all the teachers a story about a vacation we didn’t take. Most of the other families were well-off (my immediate family was not back then at all) and so in order to fit in I made up a story about a luxurious vacation we never took. Everyone was taking expensive vacations but us. We visited family and local scenic places but never went anywhere seemingly glamorous. My story was so believable the other teachers eventually asked my mother about it and she had to explain that we’d never taken the vacation. Later that night I was in a lot of trouble. My mother had a very long discussion about lying with me, explaining how wrong it was.

I rarely lied after that. I rarely do lie. Her talk so seared in my mind the importance of being truthful that it’s stayed with me all these years. I don’t entirely remember what she said, but it was effective. I was also very embarrassed the next day in class when my teachers confronted me.

What did I just lie about here on this blog? Buying L’Heure Bleue. The truth is I planned to buy it and last night I almost did but then Mark remembered a sealed vintage bottle we saw months ago at an antique store. A sealed vintage bottle… Anyway, I still have to purchased that bottle. Sorry dear readers. I’ve felt guilty. Now I feel better.

I asked Mark to call the antique store today before we went there to make sure they still had it. In fact they do, but it’s in storage. I’m hoping for the best.

The question now is: Which bottle do I open (provided they get back to us and find it)? I think that question will be decided by which one is in better condition or which one is the oldest. That’s literally my thought process about which one to choose. Is that good reasoning though? Should I go with opening the one I’m least sentimental about?

Of course, someone reading this is likely thinking: Why do you even wear old perfume?! Isn’t that dangerous? My answer is of course that it’s likely not any more dangerous than wearing perfume made today. It’s more likely to aggravate allergies. There are some ingredients that might be a bit carcinogenic. But…I doubt that it would be more carcinogenic than the ingredients today. I could be wrong… But I was have a “gut sense” that it’s about equal?

Will I die from L’Heure Bleue? Probably not? Honestly though, having had depression since childhood and currently sorting through the remains of a dead marriage while trying to be a good mother…if it shaved off five years and I died at 85 instead of 90 I don’t think I’d care unless I am able to find someone to love who loves me in return equally. I’ll have to explain this more, I think but there. I said it. The only reason I would care without that is because of my children and potential grandchildren. And for that reason alone I actually do worry… Well, and to honor God. The life God gave me.

Phthalates are disturbing though. Are they lying to us about their safety? *shrug* Probably. But I also doubt the perfumes today are that much worse than my vintages. Or are they? Hmm… Some people in the fragrance community think they are safe (certainly safer) and will yell at you about it. *sigh*

I think I’ll stick to my vintage L’Heure Bleue. It’s romantic. It’s hopeful but not entirely naive. It’s a haunted beauty. Hopefully it won’t kill me faster then I should die.

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.