Chanelophobia

Chanelophobia2 It’s been an age since I had my first bottle of perfume, and in the long interim that has followed, with lord knows how many bottles passing through, only one of them has ever been a Chanel.

Isn’t that peculiar, isn’t that abnormal, for a perfume enthusiast? I’ve worn just about everything else, but for some obscure reason, hardly ever a Chanel.  The closest I came was a bottle of Coco, and a bottle of No 19 bath mousant given me for Christmas once.  Used up both, did not replace either, that must say something about Chanel, personal aesthetics and moi, probably in that order, namely that they have a style, it is pronounced, and I don’t get it.

This may be a familial glitch, because my sister doesn’t get it either.  Neither one of us have worn Chanel for long, and both of us are slightly leery of the customary Chanel aldehyde blends.  The result seems to be that my sister simply dislikes Chanel, and to me, the perfumes are impressive, but my admiration is expressed from a safe distance. Continue reading

Twelve Smells of Christmas, Day Ten: The Trajectory of Fizz

I only recently learned how to open bottles of Champagne without spritzing an entire kitchen in the process.  It’s a useful skill.  You don’t have to bellow for your husband when the ladies want to make mimosas, you just do the opening and mixing on your own.

By the way, I know that I am not supposed to refer to any sparkling wine as Champagne unless it was grown in the region so denominated – my brother-in-law is French, you see, and so I know that it is really Vin Petillante and not Champagne. Whether or not it came from France, I have just noticed that you can get bubbles in your wine much more cheaply these days and that the Spanish are dab hands at this kind of doubly fermented drink. Continue reading