The smell of love

I was prompted today to think about scent. The women of my life have all been glamorous, beautiful and intelligent. With the exception of my Mother they have also all had a signature scent.

I don't know what my Dad's Mum wore, although knowing her I would bet on Chanel No5. I do remember the smell of her shampoo. She had a shoulder length bob of dark grey hair. I was lucky enough to be indulged by her as she sat still and I endlessly teased, crimped and sprayed her hair. (It was the '80's) Her hair smelled of apricots and honey. And I loved the silky sheen of it in my hands.

My Great Grandmother and Grandmother (on my Mum's side) both wore a Dior scent that came in a cream and was kept in a cameo brooch in the jewellery box. My Great Grandmother would play singing games with me as a baby and I can still see her blue rinse and wrinkle lined face as she twinkled her hands at me, showing me the stars.

As for my Grandmother I remember her sitting in the front of my car as I drove her and some of my friends to a movie. I remember that perfume filling the space as she joked about Marijuana as my straight edge friends' mouths fell open in horror.

My Mother is a Doctor and chooses not to wear perfume to avoid allergies in her patients. I think the scent I most associate with her is the slightly burnt, slightly sweet smell of "Charcoal Cake" a dried apricot and bran loaf that used to get burnt in our old oven, hence "charcoal".

For me each scent is a memory and a journey through who I have been and who I am becoming. But each scent is also an emotion. With each sniff I can feel the love.

My Bob and I

As a small child with no autonomy over my hair - or anything else- my first Bob was not my choice. It was my mother's decision and if memory is correct I cried for a day afterwards. This Bob lasted until I was about seven and decided to grow my hair long.

I loved my long hair, how it looked, all the styles I could do with it. But I was seven and I didn't really understand the whole "brushing" thing.

At age ten I saw the television series "The House of Elliot" and all I wanted in the whole world was Evangeline Elliot's geometric Bob. My Mum doesn't like change, especially change in my hair. She was sad when I said I wanted a Bob again. We compromised on a shoulder length do. Neither of us was happy. But over the next few years my hair got shorter and shorter and eventually I had the geometric Bob of my dreams.

Then puberty hit me with an unexpected twist. My dead straight, very manageable hair suddenly developed kinks, and then curls. i was very unhappy. But then Fiends hit the screen and the "Rachel" layered cut was all the rage. I grew my hair longer and had layers added.

But by fourteen I was back to the Bob. I had discovered leaving in conditioner and a hair dryer and it looked kinda rubbish but I loved the freedom of go-anywhere hair. By fifteen I was growing it back out and thinking I needed bra-strap length hair to be "pretty" and "feminine".

My hair got crazy curly and I just kept the Bob but switched to curl mouse to make it look okay.
The next decade of my like was a constant pendulum swing going toward or away from the Bob. My hair would reach that magical just-below-the shoulder-blades length that I still think is so sexy. But I would get frustrated and chop it off, back the Bob.

My hair was mid length again earlier this year. And curly. But I discovered the whole -grail of hair treatments- keratin straightening! i booked in and had a long-in-the-front, short-in-the-back Bob cut into my freshly smoothed hair. I thought I looked like Anna Wintor. But I don't. I look like a confident sixteen-year-old me. And I love it.

Maybe I'll grow my hair?