Mauboussin was one of those rare perfumes that upon first sniff sent me to the land of Oh. My. God. Stale morning breath mixed with allspice, vanilla and benzoin make it an aromatic wonder. Sometimes Mauboussin assaults my nose with full-on patchouli (hints of Borneo 1834), and sometimes it knocks me out with plum and amber. But when the mood is right, as it is on this reflective Wednesday evening, Mauboussin hits the spot like nothing else.
Several months ago, in a clean-out-this-damn-perfume-cabinet frenzy, I bequeathed B-man with Mauboussin. Bequeath: hold the item far out in front of you with both hands and bow as you hand it to the other person. Knowing the great importance of the perfume - because of the bequeathing and all - B-man wore it occasionally. It's actually quite nice on him, lasting well into the next day, through at least one shower. But after a while, like any self-respecting middle child, I started getting jealous, certain that if Mauboussin smelled good on B-man, it would smell even more amazing on me. Yesterday out of the blue, I worked up the nerve to
Me: Hey, you know the Mauboussin?
Me: You know, the perfume I gave you.
Him: Oh yeah, what about it?
Me: What if I wanted it back?
Him: You want it back?
Me: Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do. Did you throw the box away?
Him: No, I have it somewhere.
Me: 'Cause I noticed it's not in its box. In your drawer. Not that I was looking in your drawer.
Him: Take it - I have more stuff than I can possibly wear anyway.
Me: So I'm kinda doing you a favor.
Him: You're doing me a huge favor.
B-man understands the role that perfume plays in my life. This evening when I got home from work, my Mauboussin was neatly boxed up and sitting beside my perfume cabinet...bequeathed back to me. Sure, we could share, but sharing is for well adjusted only children.
Picture from 99perfume.com