(Courtesy: Painter and father  Marco Meloni)

 

We conclude our seven part series, Fragrances of our Fathers. Thank you to all the contributors, all who shared with our readers the meaning of filial love, through the fifth sense. It’s as adults, that we realize that  these strong olfactive memories, are time in a bottle.  Treasure Father’s Day, not as a commercial holiday but as a day to reflect on these men–our fathers, uncles, grandfathers, and how they shaped our lives. (Thank you Marco Meloni for permitting cafleurebon to incorporate  your beautiful painting in our finale)

 Courtesy of Ambrosia Jones: Pop and Grandma

Ambrosia Jones, a natural perfumer, a member of The Natural Perfumer’s Guild and the Founder of Perfume by Nature created an olfactive tribute  to her grandfather and we are giving away Sense of Honor, a perfect finale for this week of memories. http://perfumebynature.blogspot.com/2010/05/scent-for-country-gentleman.html

My grandfather was one of those true Country Gentleman who I loved and respected deeply.

And I ended up creating a Scent in his memory…It’s a lovely, deep, Vetiver based scent impression of him sitting on his verandah drinking his beloved Coffee, the sharp, tangy scent of Grapefruit just picked from his orchard on a plate next to him, the fresh scent of the tall pine trees he planted many years ago as seedlings coming with a gentle breeze from the road down from the house…. And I named it “Sense of Honour” – Ambrosia Jones, Perfumer

Our Fathers: Scent of Remembrance

My dad Roy L. Hughes, I – passed away when I was two and a half, so there were virtually no scent memories of him that I could recall. Unlike two of the scenes from the short time we spent together, the most vivid being picked up by Uncle so I could see my dad laying still, all dressed up and quiet.

The other time was him walking down the hallway on a winter night as I walked to the bathroom. This image stayed so strongly with me because he had already passed away.

 

 

I remember him and the blue flames from the open space heater vividly.

 

Remembering things through scent is very awakening for me being a visual person, but since becoming a perfumer all kinds of memories have rushed into my head.

 

One day while in the West Village, I happened into Fresh to experience their fragrances and came across Patchouli Pure. Smelling this fragrance brought back memories of every influential man that had been a part of my life.

 

 

It’s the kind of fragrance that wraps up the spirit of the ‘70’s and ‘80’s; it took me back to those times when I use to drift away on the wave of a day dream.

 

Suddenly, I could smell my father as if he were standing very near to me. I was a kid all over again and could clearly smell him. That safety and contentment that a father can sometimes bring came rushing back for a brief moment.

 

Rodney Hughes, Bespoke Perfumer and Natural Perfume Editor for Cafleurebon

 

 Fathers and  Grandfathers

Dad wore Aramis until about 20 years ago, when he began to wear citrusy commercial scents, because my mother likes them. I bought him Terre d’ Hermes, last  Father’s Day.. now he’s happy, mom is happy and so am I.

Grandpa Henry came to this country with nothing. Grandpa was a fastidious man, who was good at fixing things; he was a quiet man, spoke softly and seldom and loved his grandchildren unconditionally. He never finished high school. Every morning he read the Wall Street Journal, ate breakfast my grandmother prepared,then drove to his small business on Church Avenue, a section of Brooklyn.

 

Growing up we lived in a two family house, which my grandfather owned and I spent most of my childhood years upstairs with my grandpa and grandma. It was in their home, at age 6, that I saw on the television that they shot our president, John F. Kennedy.

 

He was totally and thoroughly in love with my grandmother who was as outspoken as he was soft spoken. He worshipped her. He nursed her through her long battle with Parkinson’s disease, although he was eight years her senior. When grandma died, he was 88 yrs old and he became an alcoholic. My grandfather wore Old Spice, but it’s not the scent of the aftershave that I remember the most.  He smelled of brandy and salty tears; he could not control his wailing and crying when he wasn’t living in the alternate reality he created through drinking; in the kitchen where his beloved wife, his angel, his Ida was by his side. When he passed away at 97, we went to a place where my grandmother was waiting for him. But he ‘died’ of a broken heart years before.   – Michelyn Camen, Editor-in-Chief