Random Perfume Memory, or Why I Love a Perfume I Hate
If you came for a perfume review today, I apologize. Wednesday and Friday will bring my impressions of Fath Iris Gris and Givenchy Amarige Harvest Collection. My friend Micki sometimes tries to prod me to open up and blog a little about myself, and well, I guess I think it’d be kind of boring to read, but she has other ideas. And her ideas are almost always good ones.
Yesterday I talked to someone who I haven’t really spoken with in nearly six years, which is the sort of thing that always puts me in an excessively nostagic mood. A walk down Nostalgia Street is one thing, but it inevitably leads me straight to the turnoff for Memory Lane. Ah me, what happened during those six years? And for the sake of this blog’s subject matter, what does my nostalgic sentimentality have to do with perfume?
My twins were born extremely premature (29 weeks) roughly that long ago, too. They were so very small, each weighing in at under three pounds. After birth, they were placed in a NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) for nearly two months. In retrospect, I realize just how scary it all was, but I think at the time I must have been in a complete state of shock. In fact, the shock remained my permanent emotional state for a year after they came home even. They arrived home on oxygen tanks. They also wore fetal heart monitors 24 hours a day for roughly the first six months after returning home. I cannot properly explain the horror of seeing your son turn blue, and having to get him to breathe and help him get his heart started again. There are no words in the English language that express what that feels like. There probably aren’t ones in any language.
We were warned while they were still in infancy that they may well possess developmental problems. And they did. We found when they turned age two that we could no longer chalk up some of their diffuculties to the simple differences between how individual children blossom. Taking them into see a specialist at the hospital revealed they suffered from Autism Spectrum Disorder. The word “disorder” makes it sound as if they just need to be reorganized. I suppose in some very small ways that’s true, but not overall. My twins both had severe language delays. In addition, they had some physical problems and manifold tactile difficulties. The feel of many fabrics would make them uncomfortable to an untoward degree. Taking a simple bath was not a simple matter at all, because the wetness of the water would make one of them howl as if he was in pain. Strike that - not as if. He WAS in pain. Water, water caused him pain.
Their tactile sensitivities carried over to the sense of smell. I rarely wore perfume for the first few years of their lives. During therapy at the hospital, the boys were exposed to one technique that their physical therapist described as a scent therapy. Scent therapy consisted of little more than various objects, spices, and solutions in jars held up for them to smell one by one. The therapist then jotted down their reactions, and tried to get them to smell as many of these jars as she could during the session to “teach” them to tolerate their own sense of smell. We decided to discontinue this portion of their therapy after it became clear that it did more harm than good - it was just too overwhelming, and only served to frustrate them.
It was shortly after this time that I began breaking out the perfumes again on a regularish basis, despite their doctors’ warnings. I needed it. Really. It sounds completely selfish and trivial I suppose, but at the time I needed something nice to do that would be just for myself during those days, especially the hard days. When you’ve got twins with ASD, most days turn out to be harder than you wake up thinking they will be. The easy ritual of perfume certainly was one I’d always enjoyed. I missed it. Besides, they’d react to all sorts of things, yet lightly wearing perfume for my own enjoyment didn’t seem to cause too much distress for some unknown reason.
Then one day, something most wonderful and surprising happened. I had recently bought a bottle of Miss Dior, and was spritzing it on when one of the boys expressed curiosity over it. He signed the American Sign Language word for “more.” “Do you want to smell this?,” I said as held out the bottle for him to hold. He clutched at it and held it up to his face, inhaling with a smile. He tried with his little stubby hands to inexpertly spray it onto his chest, but failed. I peeled away his fingers to retrive the bottle from him, and soothed that Mommy would help. Onto his wrists I squirted out a weak half-spray. He recoiled at the sensation of liquid hitting him, but no tears. Nor did he emit any screeches of displeasure. The next morning? Same thing. “More.” So “more” I gave him, and his brother too, who indicated he wanted at a bottle of The Body Shop’s Dewberry sitting on the back of the dresser. Both again were repelled by the feel of the liquid, but a couple days later, they were lying in wait in the bedroom, waiting for the next perfume. CK One, and then Dazzling Gold. Dazzling Silver, Organza Indecence, Dragon’s Blood oil, Frangipani oil, Poison, Magie Noire, etc… I was running out of smells, and while they still reacted viscerally and slightly negatively to the perfumes, they kept coming back for “more.”
Their strong negativity towards strong scents seemed to evaporate over the course of months and years. And nowadays they happen to be the biggest six-going-on-seven-year-old perfume fiends I have ever known. I think they may have even adopted their own snobbish aesthete - they are quite particular now over what is “a good one” and what is not. I cannot fathom why exactly perfume gave them what a therapist and her empirical studies and techniques could not. But how grateful I am that something (read: anything) worked. For the curious, the six year old syndicate within our household has only but a very general rotation of favorites. One’s regulars include Caswell-Massey’s Lilac, Givenchy Pi, Galimard Sindora, Sephora L’eau Orange, Disney Pluto, and lately he wears Fruits and Passion Hot Dog a lot. The other still wears Miss Dior with some frequency, as well as Molinard Habanita, Weil Antilope, Lulu Beauty Gigi and Gres Cabaret. Not that they aren’t like their mother - the curiosity of what’s new to smell has become irresistable to them.
This also isn’t to say they don’t still have problems that need addressing - they’re still using special education assistance for things like language. Even an inconsequential incident like getting muddy while playing outside can wreak emotional havoc for the rest of the day sometimes. But their sense of smell has become a pleasure rather than a pain-inducing liability for them, and for that I am grateful. DEEPLY grateful.
I have decided I don’t at all care for your modern incarnation, but I must thank you, Miss Dior. Despite my distaste, I love that you’re still around.
If you wish to read an excellent (and neutral) review of Miss Dior in her modern form, please go to Now Smell This to read the lovely Robin’s impressions.
Image of Miss Dior with box from mydesignerperfume.com
January 9th, 2006 at 6:25 am
Katie, I don’t think I can express what I feel properly, and a virtual hug seems like an ineffectual and superficial gesture. You are amazing and so are your boys (little perfume snobs :-)). All my love, Marina.
January 9th, 2006 at 6:39 am
This was one of your best written pieces K.
I am going to send a virtual hug(even though I agree with M) because I just have to.
BTW: I voted for you several times in the blogger awards. I hope you get recognized for the incredible work you do here and Seldom Nice.
January 9th, 2006 at 8:07 am
Oh K - this piece is so wonderful and soulddeep written that it wrings my heart both ways. As a mom to two miracle boys that “not flesh of my flesh, not bone of my bone, but still miracleus (sp??)my own” and can truly relate to all that fright early on in your precious twins lives.
I’m sitting here with tears in my eyes, laughing at the same time, about their scent snobbism. Wow, I’ll bet these two will have a terrific life, knowing what’s important and whatsnot.
BIG cyberhugs to you and your precious twins :-D
January 9th, 2006 at 8:39 am
Wow… (fishing around for the right words here): “thank you” doesn’t really seem to cut it… I think kids with ASD can use their extraordinary sensitivities and focus to derive pleasure from the nuances of a perfume in a way we mere mortals are only faintly aware of. I have 4 kids, including 3YO b/g twins with language disorders and some behavioral issues. They have a little buddy with ASD in their speech class. I laugh when people say, I’m glad those kids are yours and not mine. I think, yeah, I’m glad too. Hugs.
January 9th, 2006 at 8:44 am
(((hug))) What an amazing and sweet story.
January 9th, 2006 at 8:50 am
I admire your strength, and I am sending lots of hugs to you and your boys. I wish I could say something more eloquent, but your post touched me and brought tears to my eyes.
January 9th, 2006 at 9:11 am
K, what a lovely post. My son was in the NICU for 2 days. I simply can’t imagine what 2 months was like.
Anyway, my son had mild “sensory issues” when he was young, and like you, I gave up perfume for a very long time. I find it fascinating that that Miss Dior was the breakthrough scent…the only scent my son will tolerate even now (at 7) is Antica Farmacista Vaniglia, which smells like cookie dough.
January 9th, 2006 at 11:06 am
A big Hello frome the Netherlands from a Perfume Junkie
I love your blog!!
Heikke
Ps: my little girl was also born with 29 weeks
January 9th, 2006 at 1:07 pm
Thank you so much for sharing your incredible story! Fragrance as a healer has taken on a whole new meaning for me now.
January 9th, 2006 at 2:04 pm
Thank you for such a moving story. I don’t have children of my own, but for the past five summers (and next summer too) I’ve worked at an activity program for kids with ASD in Portland. I don’t know how to describe my feelings towards all the kids I’ve worked with without sounding trite, but I truly love them. And it’s heartbreaking when the world is so painful, as it often can with sensory issues. I’m so glad that you all are able to share a love a scent. I absolutely love seeing “my” kids take joy in things, and when they take joy in it with their families, it’s just wonderful. I also agree with Marchlion that they very well are detecting nuances we can’t even imagine. Your post has really made by day and makes me think differently about perfume. It’s connected two areas in my life that are really important to me and left me teary-eyed. I’m also impressed at the variety and quality of their taste!
Although I have to confess I’ve never smelled Miss Dior. Sorry for the long comment, but it just really resonated with me. Thank you again.
January 9th, 2006 at 2:16 pm
I have been reading your blog for a while now and felt compelled to make this my first comment. I am so touched by your story. I, too, have a DS on the spectrum, also with significant language dysfunction. He is a sensory-seeker for touch and smell, often content to snuggle up and nuzzle against an arm or cheek, relaxing with a deep sigh. To him, it seems, the *very best* smell in the whole wide world is skin :) Our children are all truly unique, but also share similarities. What an amazing discovery into your sons’ worlds - and what a wonderful thing to be able to share betweeen the three of you! Thank you for posting this and many blessings to you and your family.
January 9th, 2006 at 2:20 pm
Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to know you a little better.To share a small but very intimate part of yourself and family makes me feel privilaged to know you.I am also a mother of twins and still could never begin to relate.Your inner strengh and patience you endured is a testament to motherhood.I thank you again for such a poignant piece of writing.
January 9th, 2006 at 4:58 pm
Thanks to everyone for your kind words - I felt a twinge self-concious about posting it, and I do appreciate your comments. And thank you so much for sharing your own experiences and stories, too: that especially means a lot to me.
January 9th, 2006 at 8:51 pm
Oh my, what an amazing story. I have always thought that fragrance really IS a healing element. Thank you for sharing your personal experience with us. I cannot imagine going through that.
January 9th, 2006 at 10:06 pm
What a beautiful story.
How wonderful and amazing that the comfort and joy scent gives you is also such a healing comfort for your sons, too. I loved how, by something as small as a squirt of perfume, could open a new and beautiful world for you and your kids. Not to say I also was impressed that one loves Habitanta! Such a story as only life can write it.
January 10th, 2006 at 7:10 am
Dear Katie — what a moving and adventurous story. Your boys are lucky to have such a sensitive and sniffalicious mom. You may not realize it, but your story should be shared with professionals who deal with autistic children. Your openness and vulnerability at sharing this experience, and the amazing results can go on to help others. There must be websites of MDs who deal with this disorder - please forward it to them, and your doctor, of course.
And give them a hug for me, Vent Vert (vintage) scented! ;-)
January 10th, 2006 at 10:29 am
Wow. You are such an amazing writer and mom. This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.
January 10th, 2006 at 1:29 pm
Thank yo so much for sharing your story.
Hugs to you my dear,
Victoria O
January 10th, 2006 at 2:38 pm
K, what an amazing story. For several years I worked with children whose difficulties ran from ASD to ADHD to uncontrollable epilepsy to deafness to Down’s syndrome, with many of them saddled with more than one. It was the most frustrating yet most rewarding time of my life, and I always remember the little triumphs that were always so quirky and almost mystifying. There was one little boy, maybe 8 years old, who would only calm down when we played Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl.” It’s amazing how a song or even a scent can affect someone in ways that we might never truly understand.
Thank you for sharing this, K!
January 10th, 2006 at 6:45 pm
K, thank you for writing this. It is hard to reveal the more personal parts of life when writing for the public, but it often does a great more than you think. I will remember this story forever, it is so touching. {{{{{K}}}}}
January 11th, 2006 at 12:39 am
I hope I can bring the story of your boys to my work with kids with special needs and abilities. It’s inspiring and fascinating and you have given a lot to all of your readers by posting this here. Thank you and lots of love from a stranger who was nonetheless deeply moved by your words.
Cait
January 12th, 2006 at 7:35 am
Katie - my daughter who is now 18 has a rare chromosome disorder - at 10 months old (after perfect 9month incubation and no birthing horrors) we found ourselves in a hot and airless hospital room, in a place of relentless sorrow - and I prayed that day in the toilet of all places - I begged whoever might be listening on high not to let my baby die. And I learned exactly what it was to be a mother that day - the anguish and the love.
We too had a happy outcome - albeit our daughter has many many issues we live with that are difficult - but life is joyful in many other ways - and the little tales we have of these priceless little people are inspiring.
Well done you for sharing. You never know who might be reading, who might gain some comfort or learning.
Much love to you and your boys - and carry on spritzing my girl.
Incidently my two year old sniffs at bottles of essential oils like a wino with a bottle of free meths.
Heather
January 13th, 2006 at 11:29 am
Astonishing. I am deeply moved. And fascinated. Was it their love for you that helped them associate perfume with something good? Was it the beauty of Miss Dior? Wonderful to think about. You’re quite a gal. (And I owe you samples that I have been too distracted to remember to send, for, what, two months?) Thank you, K, for that.