When the sea and the sky get into the informal partnership we like to call a hurricane, it seems like all heck’s broken loose. Here in Jersey, we’re used to heck breakin’ loose. Heck, we often break it loose ourselves.
Who knew how bad was it going to be? Well, along about noon on Monday our cat (the Jersey Girl par excellence) put her nose out the front door and considered a quick dash to avoid the litter box. If the Jersey Girl had been any other type of cat than the scrappy little tabby that she is, and a Jersey Native, she wouldn’t have risked it. As it was, she was out the door for a grand total of ten minutes and then dashed back inside. She had taken care of the essentials.
So had I. Besides the water (which I didn’t buy bottled, geez, this is Jersey. guys!) and the batteries, and the shortwave radio, and the non-perishable food items, I had to go spritz myself. Which raises the question, what exactly do you wear to a deluge?
Previous deluges, dress rehearsals for this one, involved staying up to all hours and swabbing out the basement with the wet/dry vac. It involved checking the boiler room for leakages, it involved hoping that the Commodore got all the worst vegetation out of our gutters, and those of the neighbors’ (yeah, he’s a soft touch), and then staying up watching old movies (Vincent Price ones are favorites of mine in a pinch, though I will do Bette Davis) in order to periodically bail out the basement. It gets a trifle surreal at about 4 a.m., but the basement stays more or less dry.
We eat popcorn, and drink coffee, and pray the power doesn’t go out, and in this kind of emergency, I do the sensible thing: I wear Guerlain.
Guerlain is the perfume for emergencies. Don’t know why. For every day, I’m inclined to wear Coty; for going out, I wear Caron. For heat, I wear Parfums de Nicolais,but for emergencies, I only wear Guerlain.
Last year, when we caught the last plane into La Guardia from Chicago just before that other virago Irene, I wore – Guerlain, Shalimar Parfum Initial.
It worked well. I stayed calm, cool and collected, and we caught the last train out to Jersey after a high speed cab ride through an empty Manhattan. Another totally surreal emergency.
This time it was Mouchoir de Monsieur which smelled delightfully dry while all the world around me got wet. But you could have worn Habit Rouge or Vol de Nuit equally well, and I fancy that Mitsouko would keep her head while all other perfumes about were losing theirs.
Guerlain is exactly right for disasters. This probably has something to do with that same instinct that has perfumistas wearing expensive stuff to rake the yard or clean the gardening tools – an inside joke that Bloody Frida has observed. It almost certainly springs from the same impulse; if you’re in trouble, you should at least smell nice for said trouble.