I often say that my earliest perfume memory is seeing my mother’s little black bottle of Joy, and it instilled a love of that fragrance, in me, that my mother nurtured by gifting me with the parfum. I was mentioning that to her not long ago, and she said “You know, it wasn’t me that got you into this perfume thing, it was your FATHER!”

She went on to reminisce about my father’s proclivity for gifting his friends, and sometimes mere acquaintances, with perfumes (often to their embarrassment) and fancy Egyptian cigarettes, and how he was very stylish and cut quite a figure in a fabulous coat with a fur collar. I loved that story, and could imagine the befuddled friends who were given such an intimate gift by a man they barely knew.  I could visualize my father as a good-looking youth, with curly black hair and blue eyes, in his swanky coat, handing out foreign smokes and exotic fragrances.

A long career in the arts gave Dad the opportunity to surround himself with beautiful and interesting art pieces and handcrafts.  He was a sensualist in that he enjoyed trying new brands of cigars and testing out different vodkas for his martinis. There were always a numbers of fragrance bottles on his side of the bathroom counter, and he always smelled good.

I wish I had taken the time to memorize the scents he had – I would love to find and smell them, so that I could bring him back for an instant.  I vaguely remember Aramis and Royall Lyme along the way, but I know he had fancier scents as well. Once in a while I catch a Dad-ish whiff of something, but can never quite pin it down. He didn’t have a signature scent, exactly, and he had an aura of cigar intertwined in his aroma, so I don’t know if I’ll ever recreate it.

Christmas was when Dad got to shop for perfume for his girls. Because he and I had very similar skin chemistry, he rarely missed when he chose scent for me. I loved finding that tell-tale heavy rectangular box under the tree and knowing I had a new smellie from Dad. I can clearly imagine him at the perfume counter, spraying different scents on his skin, letting them dry down, deciding which to buy. I have always felt that he was not one to be swayed too much by the sales associates trying to push the popular thing on him, which delights me. He gave me scents that were high quality, and could be worn for a lifetime.

One of my favorite scent gifts was a carefully and individually wrapped pile of minis. What a darling stack of tiny presents it was! I had to take a picture of it (blurry, I know, but so cute). Maxim’s, Salvador Dali, Organza, Ysatis, Amarige, Panthere de Cartier – I still have some of these. Dad made me a Givenchy fan. I wear Givenchy very well, even the mighty and somewhat reviled Amarige. I know Dad had a great time choosing these – and I also know that with the possible exception of the Dali, every perfume was chosen for the scent, not the cute little bottle.

Dad made me a "Guerlie" Girl. He gave me gGerlain Jardins de Bagatelle, for one. I wore Jardins today, Christmas Eve, for the first time in a long time – the bottle Dad gave me is long gone. It is a great scent, one I will have to add back into my collection. Samsara was another gift; wearing it always gave me great pleasure. I am sad it is not what it used to be. I have a dab of the original , and it is just like I remember it, rich and interesting.

The last perfume I received from my father was Bvlgari Blv. I still have that bottle, and will have it for as long as I can. I wear it now and then, and it works very well on my skin. I will never use it up, because it is the last perfume, and it has to stay with me.  

I wonder what Dad would think of my immersion in the world of perfume. Would he cluck at how much money I’m spending? Probably, but he would smell everything I offered up for him to evaluate. He would be pleased that I am able to write these stories and reviews, and have them read by so many enthusiasts. I think he would enjoy the idea of making scent friends and gathering together for sniff-fests and events. If he was still with us, I would invite him to the perfume counter with me, so we could share in our mutual pleasure of perfume. As it is, all I can do now is cherish those memories of gifts of scent from a beloved man.

Was a parent or anyone in your family pivotal in our appreciation of fragrance? Is it nature, or nurture?

–Tama Blough, Editor