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What’s in a Name?
Several Christmases ago, the gift from my beloved was a small bottle of an iconic perfume. The one that Marilyn Monroe wore to bed. The one that was handed out free to American GIs entering Paris in 1945, in the heady days of victory and liberation. The one that became a legend in America when those same GIs took it back to their wives and girlfriends.
For almost a hundred years, its stark black and white packaging, and the simple bottle with a square glass lid, have been a byword for Parisian elegance.
I was charmed by the thought: less so by the perfume. Chanel No. 5 has a robust, in-your-face presence, which on me was overpowering. When I entered a room, it wafted before me.
Which left me with the dilemma of how to express heartfelt thanks, while discouraging repeat offerings. I know my beloved and once he gets an idea in his head, there it stays. So I thrust my wrists under his nose, turn and turn about, the one sprayed with my usual citrusy cologne, the other with complex layers of Parisian luxury and sophistication. “Smell the difference. Chanel is not really the sort of fragrance I can wear to the office every day,” I explained. “I’ll save it for our intimate moments.”
Which I did. Do you think he took the hint? Of course not. A couple of years later, I unwrapped my Christmas present to discover a larger size bottle. My husband beamed. “I remembered what you said and bought you the eau de toilette this time.”
It’s the thought that counts.
Stranded in Morocco, Emily Ryan accepts a job offer from a stranger. Entranced by her new life in the sleepy coastal village of Taghar, she struggles to resist widower Rafi Hassan’s charm – but also clashes with his autocratic ways and respect for tradition. As she attempts to persuade him to allow his teenage daughter Nour more freedom, Emily refuses to acknowledge her own errors of judgment. As the seasons turn and the olives ripen, Emily dares to dream of winning Rafi’s heart – until danger threatens from an unexpected quarter.
Madeleine McDonald lives on the east coast of England, where the cliffs crumble into the sea. She finds inspiration walking on the beach before the world wakes up.
Buy the book at Amazon.
Oh, that’s funny. At least you’ll have plenty of Chanel No. 5 for years to come, though!
True, and the bottles themselves look handsome on the dressing table.
I am allergic to perfumes. My husband had a hard time with that.
Debra, that’s a shame, but I’m sure your husband spoils you in other ways.
Funny story. Your husband is a very thoughtful man. All the best.
Thanks for your comment. I can only agree with you.