Advice to Tell a Bride About Marriage Funny
I am a woman who likes traditional presents: lingerie, kitchen appliances, and Chanel No. 5 — my signature scent since I was 15 years old. I still remember wandering down the perfume aisle at Jordan Marsh sampling Chloé (my mother's perfume), then picking up the atomizer with the interlocking C's. It was love at first spray.
Even I, a girl from a small mill town, knew who Coco Chanel was; I'd heard Marilyn Monroe's line that all she wore to bed was her Chanel No. 5. Except for a short misguided period when I switched to Chanel No. 19 (silver bottle, citrusy, less cachet), I've stuck with the scent, believing it has the power to transform me into someone sophisticated.
So when my husband, Lorne, walked into my birthday party a couple of years ago carrying a box from Nordstrom, I was pleased but not surprised — until I lifted the lid and found, instead of my usual sleek, black Chanel refill, an elaborate bottle with a "C" logo — but this "C" stood for Cartier's Le Baiser du Dragon.
"I know it's not Channel Five," said Lorne, using our pet name, "but I smelled this at the counter and loved it so much I had to buy it for you." My husband has liked to nuzzle my neck, murmuring how good I smell, since the night we first shared a bowl of pasta at Carmella's restaurant. Now, a dozen years later, he's buying me a different perfume.
Passing up someone's scent is like rejecting that person, isn't it? When a baboon doesn't like the way a female smells, he finds himself a different baboon that smells better.
"If you don't like it," my husband was saying, "you can take it back." Of course I wanted to take it back! Still, I didn't want him going in search of a different baboon, did I?
The very next night, on our way to a party, he took a big sniff near my neck and said, "Ooh, is that the new perfume I gave you?"
"Nope," I said, "it's still Channel Five." He seemed disappointed — but who was he to complain when he couldn't even smell the difference?
When I told my friend what Lorne had done, she was aghast. "Bring it back," she said. "You have to."
"Keep it," another friend advised me. "Wear it. You have to."
"What's the big deal?" a third friend asked me. "You don't wear the clothes you wore when you were 15 years old, do you?"
"Uh," I said, "actually, I do."
The next afternoon I found myself in Nordstrom, conducting a Cartier sniff test. I sprayed. I sneezed (twice). I sniffed my wrist. I smelled like a stranger.
That night, our 12-year-old son had a sleepover in the attic with a bunch of his buddies. Going up to check on them, I was ambushed by a cloud of Axe cologne. "They say it attracts girls," one of them offered as I backed out the door, choking on the fumes.
I hated the smell, but I loved the power of their belief. Climbing into the shower, I remembered the long-ago summer when my friend Beth and I wore Love's Fresh Lemon every day, believing it promised kisses and fields of daisies. Not long after, I switched my allegiance to a whole different kind of beast: Tigress roll-on, which made me feel powerful. Last of all came Chanel. From my very first whiff, it whispered to me of sophistication, travel to far-flung places, love.
Out of the shower, I dressed for a special evening: an art-gallery opening, then dinner with Lorne — this time for his birthday. I picked up that ornate bottle with the other C. What did I have to lose?
I sprayed myself, sneezed several times, and slipped on my little black dress. All night I waited for Lorne to say something. He didn't, but everyone else did, and they loved it.
Back in the car, I said to Lorne, "Did you notice? I'm wearing that perfume you gave me.
He leaned in and nuzzled my neck. "Mmm. You smell delicious," he said. "But then, you always do."
That's when I knew: The Cartier wasn't intended to make me over. It was just a gift — a whimsical, romantic message in a bottle from a guy who, after almost 14 years, still only has eyes (and a nose) for me.
Ann Hood's most recent books are The Knitting Circle and Comfort: A Journey Through Grief.
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Source: https://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/relationships/advice/a18697/romantic-gifts-love-stories/
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