Tuesday, May 24, 2011

der Wunderkammer

I would love to create this in my home -- a room of wonder, a miracle chamber, the cabinet of scented oddities and wonderments, my studio. I began over two years ago to transform my dull family room from frumpy to perfume-creation fabulous, but things are at a standstill. Only one wall is painted. The flooring isn't complete. Only some of the shelving is installed. Things are in a state of mild disarray, but, to dream of a beautiful space in which to create and bring in visitors and teach classes and encourage an apprentice . . .

It's tough when your workspace is in your home. There are so many details to think about. How your family will react when visitors arrive, will the cat hiss at them, or will the dog bark and lift its leg on their shoes? Will the kids behave and not pick a fight over who ate the last frozen burrito or who drank the last bit of sweet tea? Will the husband decide that he should demonstrate his home maintenance skills by hammering loudly on a wall, any wall, whether it needs hammering or not, or will he choose this time to change the exhaust system on his motorcycle and rev the bike so it makes big noises over and over again? Will my mother arrive unexpectedly, her fingers dirty with Miracle Gro, wearing her favorite t-shirt that reads, "I'm a grandma. Ask me how to raise your kids," and amble past the guests and out the back sliding door to squat in my backyard and pull weeds? Or will my neighbor show up for a cup of coffee, her enormous bra-free bosoms drawing gasps from the mouths of my guests? Or, heaven forbid, one of my guests asks to use the restroom and discovers that my 16-year-old son still doesn't know how to flush the toilet, or that my daughter's cosmetics' case is always empty because its contents have been spread across the sink counter, or that there's an enormous blow-up duck in the bath tub.

The minutiae of my life prevents me from preparing my in home studio for guests. But I can still dream, even if the space currently looks like Baldini's basement.

*Photo still from the movie Perfume: The Story of a Murderer


  1. Anonymous10:58 AM

    The glamorous life of a perfumer:-)

    I can supply a mad cat who will use her litter tray at *the* most inopportune moment, to assist in completing your nightmare scenario. No, no need to thank me, I'm happy to help.

    Your neighbour brings my mother to mind - she could polish an entire kitchen counter just by reaching across it!

    cheerio, Anna in Edinburgh

  2. Why, thank you anyway! I mean, after all that, a pooping kitty really doesn't seem so bad, right?


    That's super funny about your mother!

  3. Anonymous8:16 AM

    It's true about the kitchen counter. She couldn't stop laughing, when she realised why the counter surfaces were all so shiny, and could scarcely get the words out to tell us!

    Happy memories (and mammaries, come to that!).

    cheerio, Anna in Edinburgh



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