Day 40 ~ One Year, One Nose

Yin Hao (a perfume) by Liz Zorn



I have a confession to make. When I first sniffed this perfume, I wasn't crazy about it. In fact, I was pretty well turned off by it. However, because I am a good sport when it comes to testing out perfumes, I gave it another go. But let me first tell you how round one went: The package was waiting for me when I arrived home from work, so I tore into it -- yes, 'tore', because that's how I ride -- and everything within the box burst out, Yin Hao skittering all the way across the room to rest in the foyer near the front door. I thought it was a sign -- good or bad, something was up with this perfume (I know, sometimes even I think I'm weird). I rushed into the kitchen with my prizes (two new bottles of Zorn perfumes to play with) and accosted my daughter, Mini-Perfume-Whore-Me, with bottles in hand ready to shoot. So she shot Yin Hao first, right on the pulse point of her wrist, waved her hand around to dry off the alcohol, then sniffed. Her nose scrunched, she bared her teeth, then exclaimed, "Smell this!" as she thrust her arm out to me, "It smells like -- like -- like pooh!" I smelled her wrist, and to my surprise, right on top of the loveliness of lush white florals was a speck of pooh. I thought it was a chemistry thing, so I tried it, also spraying it on my wrist, and 'lo and behold, the speck of pooh rested on my wrist as well. Then we called in the friend, the unsuspecting victim of our game, and sprayed him -- and again, the pooh. I was perplexed. How did this happen? I know Liz makes absolutely gorgeous perfumes, I'm a big fan of nearly all that I've tried. But this. This was a surprise. I thought perhaps it had surpassed its expiration date, if that's even possible. But again, as I mentioned earlier, I'm a good sport, so I popped the bottle into my backpack to evaluate while at work the next day. Let me tell you, I contemplated whether or not to wear it at work because, also as I've mentioned before, I sit right at the main entrance (see back door) for the other employees, and whatever I'm wearing scent-wise, goes straight up their noses when they step inside. I arrive at work and begin settling in with the daily routine -- start up the dictophone machine, turn on the computer, set out the perfume on my desk, drop the backpack on the floor under the desk, open the blinds, flick on the printer, turn on the fan, grab the mug and head off to the kitchen to make tea; tea is done, settle into my chair, spray perfume on the wrists and decolletage, drop the bottle into the backpack, pop on the headphones, press the peddle and start typing. Within moments I began to smell this wondrously beautiful, deep, lush, white petaled, pink tinged aroma rising from my skin -- I was in a garden dripping with jasmine, so sweet, so intoxicating, so soul wrenching, it was like falling in love. You think I exaggerate (and in most cases, you'd be right ~ ha!), but not in this case. I couldn't believe it was the same perfume. I flipped off the headphones, dug around in the backpack until I found the perfume bottle, and read the label very, very carefully. Yes. It was Yin Hao. The perfume that two days earlier had come off all poopy and sorrowfully indolic, was now offering shades of sweet floral bliss. The dry down was just as spectacular as the opening, turning delicate and feminine and bringing to mind the word 'classic'.

Redemption. It's a good thing.