What's With the name of your blog?
This one is fun, and one part sentimental, one part silly; as I explained in NDC#5's inaugural post! But I've copy and pasted the good stuff for you to read here. ENJOY!
Love,
"Charlie"
So here we are. Back to perfume.... I'm going to write about perfume.
Perfume through my Joseph's-coat-of-many-colors-type-glasses. I have
some very strong AND hysterical memories tied to scent and perfume, so I
think it's going to be interesting to someone other than myself.
So the title. "No Disassemble Charlie No. 5"!?!?! Kathleen...what the hell is going on with that? Let me explain...it has to do with two of my earliest perfume associated memories.
As a girl, my mom wore Charlie as her perfume, and if you're somewhere between the ages of 30 & 35 (like I am - I seriously forget how old I am, and this is by design, so I don't obsess over it. That makes me sound daft, perhaps I should have just disclosed that...), I'm sure your Mom did too. As a little girl, I would sit indian-style on the floor outside of the bathroom (most likely singing something at the TOP of my lungs) in our mobile home (yep, mobile home) and adoringly watch her put on her makeup, fix her hair, and then spritz Charlie at the very end. I would smile in delight as the tiniest geranium, jasmine, rose, mossy woods, sandalwood, oakmoss, and musk scented droplets hit my skin. I didn't smell like a little girl anymore, I smelled like a GROWN UP LADY! I smelled like my Mom....and THAT was awesome! I also had this little habit (Mom, in case you're wondering what was really happening) of stealing my Mom's perfume bottles. Not full bottles, like...when they had a millimeter of two of liquid left in them...I'd tuck them away in my room where my Mom wouldn't find them (I remember a favorite hiding place of bottle was under the pillow in the crib for my baby dolls), but only after I sprayed all of my Barbie's hair w/ Charlie. (Wow! I was SUCH a girl!)
The other one takes me out to the country. My paternal grandparents lived Magnolia Spring, TX on a farm...I use the term farm loosely. We refereed to it as The Farm. They had a garden...(which I would directly pull the carrots from the ground and try to eat them, dirt and all. My mother insisted on a intermediary step, of me swiping them back and forth a few times of my courdery pants - complete w/ rainbow patches sewn on the back -before eating them. Yes, I had an orange nose from time to time as a child.)....and when I was quite young, horses. But I digress. I have a very strong memory of my Granny LeBlanc (for who her standing Christmas gift from me was a spray bottle of Designer Imposter's "Primo")....I was in the bathroom where she kept her perfumes, and I ran across a bottle of Chanel No. 5. I think I was about 6 or 7. I remember I was smelling it, thinking "Hmmmm...Granny doesn't really smell like this..." About that time she walking in and I was caught! She smiled, took the bottle from me, clicked the black cap monogrammed w/ the interlocking white "c's" back on the bottle, and as she placed the bottle back on the shelf said, "Kathleen, ladies don't wear Chanel until they're at least 50, remember that." Looking back, I'm going to guess she meant Chanel No. 5, but still...I still haven't managed to buy myself any Chanel perfume, thinking it would be a gate-way drug of sorts. This has also fueled my odd reverence towards Chanel. As many strolls as I've made past the one in Boston, I've only been one Chanel boutique, and it was in NYC, to buy nail polish - which is also linked to my Granny (but that's another story). This Chanel boutique was directly adjacent to a Dior boutique...my head almost exploded. Again...another story, for another time....
So, there we go. WAIT! "No Disassemble" ask you? I grew up in the 80's Remember "Short Circuit", right? "No Disassemble Johnny No. 5!" right? (I'd post a YouTube clip, but the site isn't working. YouTube is down!?! The world may be ending. I'm glad I have canned food and bottled water left over from "Hurricane" Irene!
So the title. "No Disassemble Charlie No. 5"!?!?! Kathleen...what the hell is going on with that? Let me explain...it has to do with two of my earliest perfume associated memories.
As a girl, my mom wore Charlie as her perfume, and if you're somewhere between the ages of 30 & 35 (like I am - I seriously forget how old I am, and this is by design, so I don't obsess over it. That makes me sound daft, perhaps I should have just disclosed that...), I'm sure your Mom did too. As a little girl, I would sit indian-style on the floor outside of the bathroom (most likely singing something at the TOP of my lungs) in our mobile home (yep, mobile home) and adoringly watch her put on her makeup, fix her hair, and then spritz Charlie at the very end. I would smile in delight as the tiniest geranium, jasmine, rose, mossy woods, sandalwood, oakmoss, and musk scented droplets hit my skin. I didn't smell like a little girl anymore, I smelled like a GROWN UP LADY! I smelled like my Mom....and THAT was awesome! I also had this little habit (Mom, in case you're wondering what was really happening) of stealing my Mom's perfume bottles. Not full bottles, like...when they had a millimeter of two of liquid left in them...I'd tuck them away in my room where my Mom wouldn't find them (I remember a favorite hiding place of bottle was under the pillow in the crib for my baby dolls), but only after I sprayed all of my Barbie's hair w/ Charlie. (Wow! I was SUCH a girl!)
The other one takes me out to the country. My paternal grandparents lived Magnolia Spring, TX on a farm...I use the term farm loosely. We refereed to it as The Farm. They had a garden...(which I would directly pull the carrots from the ground and try to eat them, dirt and all. My mother insisted on a intermediary step, of me swiping them back and forth a few times of my courdery pants - complete w/ rainbow patches sewn on the back -before eating them. Yes, I had an orange nose from time to time as a child.)....and when I was quite young, horses. But I digress. I have a very strong memory of my Granny LeBlanc (for who her standing Christmas gift from me was a spray bottle of Designer Imposter's "Primo")....I was in the bathroom where she kept her perfumes, and I ran across a bottle of Chanel No. 5. I think I was about 6 or 7. I remember I was smelling it, thinking "Hmmmm...Granny doesn't really smell like this..." About that time she walking in and I was caught! She smiled, took the bottle from me, clicked the black cap monogrammed w/ the interlocking white "c's" back on the bottle, and as she placed the bottle back on the shelf said, "Kathleen, ladies don't wear Chanel until they're at least 50, remember that." Looking back, I'm going to guess she meant Chanel No. 5, but still...I still haven't managed to buy myself any Chanel perfume, thinking it would be a gate-way drug of sorts. This has also fueled my odd reverence towards Chanel. As many strolls as I've made past the one in Boston, I've only been one Chanel boutique, and it was in NYC, to buy nail polish - which is also linked to my Granny (but that's another story). This Chanel boutique was directly adjacent to a Dior boutique...my head almost exploded. Again...another story, for another time....
So, there we go. WAIT! "No Disassemble" ask you? I grew up in the 80's Remember "Short Circuit", right? "No Disassemble Johnny No. 5!" right? (I'd post a YouTube clip, but the site isn't working. YouTube is down!?! The world may be ending. I'm glad I have canned food and bottled water left over from "Hurricane" Irene!
**Photo Credit: badhaven.com
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