Tonight, I'm wearing Borneo 1834. If you read this blog, you know it is the closest thing to a Holy Grail that I have experienced in years. Borneo has special meaning for me because it was the last perfume my mother ever loved. Each time she smelled it, she told me how much she liked it. One night, as I was getting ready to leave the hospital, she stood up from her bed, gave me a hug and said, "let me just keep hugging you because you smell so good."
Mom was the only one in my life who had the same love of perfume that I do. When she still lived and thrived at home, before her surgery, I would bring a collection of perfumes for her to sample. I often made a decant or left the perfume for her to enjoy. She had discriminating taste, so if she really liked one, I knew that I had pleased my mother, which is big for us middle children. The perfume ritual was part of every visit, and I looked forward to sharing that passion with her more than anything else.
Mother's Day is almost here. As I breathe in the dust, oak and licorice magic of Borneo, I think of her.