Scent To Me

Long ago, when I was a child, I never thought about the soaps that my mother used, or the fragrance that she wore; my mother always smelled good, and safe, and pure...and that was it!
To succumb to her embrace and hugs and kisses was all that I ever wanted.

My mother smelled clean and musky; fresh and happy all at once. To hear her voice chatting away to our cook in the kitchen upon returning home from Regina Mundi (a private school for girls that educated me formally in kindergarten and first grade) was security that there would be something good to nibble on after changing out of my school uniform. There could have been coconut curry noodles steaming from a pot on the stove, or sweet banana and tapioca pudding drenched in cream; waiting to be scooped and eaten. Sometimes, there was just hot rice and french butter with squirts of Maggi (a really yummy soy sauce out of Switzerland way back when~it is still made today by Nestle, i think..and it is delicious on almost everything)
If I was really lucky, my grandmother would be there too and the whole kitchen hustled and bustled with the sounds of an open market.

The whole family gets involved in the cooking process in Vietnam. One member would be in charge of the soaking of sweet rice or mung beans; another the task of peeling and deveining shrimps (which are plenty in Vietnam) another braising, stewing or caramelizing chicken or pork....there is always a cooking chore growing up Vietnamese and I was more than happy to take the whole scene in. Our kitchen was a happy place that always produced memorable meals and endless conversations; it was there that we spent most of our days. It is there that my memory becomes vivid; there where I can recall most of my past; there that inspires me to re-live with my own family now.

My mother, who prides herself in the domestic arts, was and is an excellent cook (but you already knew that from my other entries, right?) Back then, she had the tiniest waist, and the most delicate hands; she could do almost anything and everything...and of course, I worshipped her. Although each of us three kids had our own room, we always gathered and slept on a big bed in my mother's room; and she welcomed us each and every night ~ hypnotizing us to sleep with her melancholic songs and her 1001 Arabian Nights stories. I could not have imagined a better childhood (or a better first childhood, i should say)

After arriving in the United States, things changed overnight. We no longer had my grandmother, or any other family members around us. We no longer acted as though we were floating by life on a fluffy cloud; things just changed and they changed drastically. Childhood wasn't as pure and innocent as it could have been; we were just too busy trying to adjust to our new lives that everything else got lost in the shuffle. Yes, there was still sibbling fun and naughtiness, but in trying to get used to our new status of "immigrants in America," we had to grow up quickly in order to fend for ourselves. We had to learn a new language to survive, make new and foreign friends, and take care of each other~for all the nannies and cooks and drivers were no longer around. And because my parents had to do the same (and i'm sure it was so much harder for them) time that would have normally been indulged on us went to gaining new survival skills.

Yet, it is a part of my childhood, and I know I would not have wanted it any other way for the lessons that I have learned would not have come to me if we hadn't been uprooted from our homes. Ultimately, in the end, it is family that is important, and that could be in any country at anytime..as long as we are together.

I think I was in the fifth grade when I discovered my mother's scent. She and I were strolling around Woolworth's on the upper west side of New York City by our home, when my mother paused at the soap section and picked up a brown-packaged bar of soap from a gift basket. My mother brought it to her nose and said, "they have it!" She was puzzled and excited. She couldn't believe that she found her fragranced soap; the one she used everyday of her life in Saigon. I really didn't think of anything other then she found the same soap that she used to use..I was only 10 and not old enough to make the correlation until recent years..but that was the scent of my mother, the air that I breathed. After all these years, my mother found her sandalwood scented soap again. ***Living in America has changed my mother, she said, she eventually switched to Irish Spring. "Much fresher" she declared!!***

I haven't thought about this story in years. It is only recently with my own scent and self-discoveries that my mind jogged back to the sandalwood soap. Being female and indecisive and particular, I have experimented with many fragrances in my life. There was Paris by Yves Saint Laurent, Paloma by Paloma Picasso, Chanel No.19...and the tried and true Chanel Cristalle which has been my faithful companion for many years. I have read that a woman should have just that one true fragrance~so that she may leave her mark behind. And so, it was a couple of weeks before Christmas, when I was perusing the fun Anthropologie store in Westport for some bathroom cabinet knobs for my kids, that a little fragrant bottle caught my eye. I glanced at the name very quickly and picked it up and pulsed a spray to my coat sleeve and walked away. I found my little green crystal knobs and left the store. On my way home, I kept bringing my sleeve up to my nose and inhaling the intricate smell. I really liked it a lot and that was it.

A couple of nights later, my husband and I left the kids with our friend Catherine, and went across the street to our neighbors'holiday kick-off party. I got dressed and before leaving spritzed some Chanel Cristalle on my hair and neck. Throughout the night, the fragrance that has charmed me wasn't that inspiring somehow. In the midst of the throngs of people at the party, I stood to the side and thought of the little bottle at Anthropologie; thinking that I must go back and smell it again; I must get it!

The only thing that I was able to conclude was that I was changing; evolving into a slightly different person with different needs and wants (i know it sounds dramatic..but to me it was very clear and logical) When I got back to the store, the displays had just changed and the fragrance wasn't in its spot. I looked around and didn't see it anywhere. A very knowledgeable salesgirl tried to help me find it. After sniffing all the fragrances and not coming up with the right one, she asked me if I may have meant Voluspa, which was a home fragrance. I said, I didn't think so. She went off and brought back a very familiar looking bottle (the one that called out to me days before) called Voluspa Champaca Bloom and Fern..a room fragrance!!!! I sprayed it to my coat sleeve again and realized that I had definitely changed~ I became an aroma room spray person! The two of us laughed together and I went off with my new fragrance to pay for it. Leaving the store I was full of energy and excitement. Living with Voluspa for the next few weeks or months will determine if this is what I will succumb to. So far, I love it! I have been spraying it on my clothing and coats rather than directly on my skin; the fragrance still intoxicating ~evoking many moods and feelings.

Special memories, like special scents, stay with us somewhere in the midst of our emotions - awaiting their release and recall. There is room within us for so much; our capacity for love and longing, learning and yearning. I am truly blessed to be where I am today and cannot imagine my life in any other place besides here and now. 2007 here I come!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!