The Perfume

I had lunch recently with a friend, and she said When Samantha is a beauty editor, I'll get lots of products. I had to remind her that I know nothing about beauty. (That fact is secondary considering that I don't choose to live in the fantasy world where I'll be the editor of anything one day.)

I know that my face products, all drug store bought, work. I know that I like to buy things from Kiehl's occasionally because their products are like beauty crack, and they give you 25 samples of everything before you leave. I like going to Dominican hair salons because it's always low key and my hair has never looked better. (She put vinegar in my hair last week. Vinegar! Like from a glass bottle that you would keep under the sink. I was shocked and then elated by the results.) And I know that I've liked my various past perfumes simply because they smelled pretty.

When I was temping in early 2008, I did a stint at a boutique Public Relations firm. My boss at the time went on a business trip to Paris. As often occurs when bosses go on such trips, there were gifts to be had upon her return. My gift was a bottle of perfume. Casmir by Chopard. It sat in my bathroom cabinet for months still sealed in its box. Stella and I were still in the midst of our two year affair. But one day, it would spritz no more. I hadn't realized how low it had gotten, and I finally had to open the little red box that was sitting next to my extra toothbrushes.

It was a light scent, key in my world as anything too heavy makes me feel a bit like a little girl playing at being an adult. There were some florals, some fruits and a hint of sweetness to the smell that I liked. And though my mother took my birthday that year as a chance to replace the Stella with Tom Ford, I still found myself reaching for the little red box everyday.

It is finally reaching the end of its run, and I can't decide if I should replace it. In the past I often took the emptiness of a perfume bottle as a sign to try something new. But it's possible that this time I've become too attached to the simplicity. And to the sweetness.