'The flowers were full of song; upon the rose
I read the crimson annals of true love.
The violet flung me back an old romance.
All were associated with some link,
Whose fine electric throb was in the mind.'
I've been reading antique Victorian books on fashion and style for the 'modern' woman. I think we should take a cue from their gentle prodding words that a woman's scent, her perfume, should be personal, and thus smelled only within her personal space.
Can you just imagine how those long ago modern women would feel about perfume today? No more could they say, "Ah, she is a rose," or "She fills her seat with violets." Nope. Today, those women would be choking on toxic fumes of some unnamable essence for which no natural counterpart exists. Every woman who wears perfume today would be considered audacious and below society.
So, times change. Yet another trip to the perfume mart and $47 later, I hold a bottle of Opium. The salesperson asks, "Who is that for?" in her best trying-to-be-helpful voice.
"Mother-in-law," I say quietly.
"Oh, I didn't think it was for you. That's what the older ladies like," the salesperson says, using her fingers in the air to quote 'older ladies'. "Times change, don't they?"
Well, yes they do.