Last Valentine, for the first time in my life, I bought myself a bottle of perfume. It has a little story behind it.
In the little town where I grew up, perfume was something your grandmother and aunts received when a seaman uncle came home or a State-side relative sent a balikbayan box. And that was when you were special. (If you were an ordinary relative hell-bent on getting pasalubong, all you got was soap. Heno de Pravia, Lux, or Camay. And perhaps a can of corned beef.)
I only remember two of my grandmother's perfumes: Tatiana by Diane von Furstenberg and White Shoulders by Evyan. The little bottles lasted a long time because she used them sparingly. She forbade us to touch them and kept them in their boxes in her knick-knack cabinet, to be taken down only on special occations. When I had to be a flower girl, I would be given a tiny little spray of the perfume, and when I sweated I got nauseated by my own smell.
I rarely saw my mother when I was growing up, but when she came, she was always well- dressed, and she smelled good. She loved Tea Rose perfume, and Giorgio Beverly Hills in its pretty yellow bottle. Still, her perfumes were all gifts.
When I started working, perfume was something you bought on installment from officemates who also sold Avon bras and imitation signature bags. It's not something you just grab off the SM display counter, because it costs so much. To an ordinary employee, a 100ml bottle of Bvlgari Rose Essential is one payday's salary. So you say the hell with it and get a P50-peso bottle of baby cologne that smells suspiciously like those bottles with their thousand-peso labels. If you're raising kids, there's more reason to stick with baby cologne.
I also got my perfumes from my brothers-in-law, who are all seamen, and from aforementioned aunts in the States. And I forgot what I got over the years, except for one: Ralph. I positively love it; I even hoarded the two bottles of Ralph Goodbye Dry lotion I was given as gifts (it has body glitter!). There used to be a Johnson's baby cologne variant called 'Playful Tickle' and it smells like Ralph, and I'd buy them a few bottles at a time.
I figured that a bottle of perfume is an expensive present, even for seamen and dollar-earning relatives. It was a measure of your worth in the eyes of the giver. So you see, perfume was something special your grandma wore when she attended graduations, weddings and funerals. Perfume was glamorous, like my mom. Perfume was a luxury. I have bought perfume as gifts for only two people: my husband and my youngest brother.
I have bought myself expensive shoes and bags, but the perfume is different. When I was looking at the bottle, I smelled all the good things that it has come to represent. And I thought that if there's one person who deserved it, it would be me.
So every morning I come to work, I look forward to smelling Ralph on myself. It smells like love.
In the little town where I grew up, perfume was something your grandmother and aunts received when a seaman uncle came home or a State-side relative sent a balikbayan box. And that was when you were special. (If you were an ordinary relative hell-bent on getting pasalubong, all you got was soap. Heno de Pravia, Lux, or Camay. And perhaps a can of corned beef.)
I only remember two of my grandmother's perfumes: Tatiana by Diane von Furstenberg and White Shoulders by Evyan. The little bottles lasted a long time because she used them sparingly. She forbade us to touch them and kept them in their boxes in her knick-knack cabinet, to be taken down only on special occations. When I had to be a flower girl, I would be given a tiny little spray of the perfume, and when I sweated I got nauseated by my own smell.
I rarely saw my mother when I was growing up, but when she came, she was always well- dressed, and she smelled good. She loved Tea Rose perfume, and Giorgio Beverly Hills in its pretty yellow bottle. Still, her perfumes were all gifts.
When I started working, perfume was something you bought on installment from officemates who also sold Avon bras and imitation signature bags. It's not something you just grab off the SM display counter, because it costs so much. To an ordinary employee, a 100ml bottle of Bvlgari Rose Essential is one payday's salary. So you say the hell with it and get a P50-peso bottle of baby cologne that smells suspiciously like those bottles with their thousand-peso labels. If you're raising kids, there's more reason to stick with baby cologne.
I also got my perfumes from my brothers-in-law, who are all seamen, and from aforementioned aunts in the States. And I forgot what I got over the years, except for one: Ralph. I positively love it; I even hoarded the two bottles of Ralph Goodbye Dry lotion I was given as gifts (it has body glitter!). There used to be a Johnson's baby cologne variant called 'Playful Tickle' and it smells like Ralph, and I'd buy them a few bottles at a time.
I figured that a bottle of perfume is an expensive present, even for seamen and dollar-earning relatives. It was a measure of your worth in the eyes of the giver. So you see, perfume was something special your grandma wore when she attended graduations, weddings and funerals. Perfume was glamorous, like my mom. Perfume was a luxury. I have bought perfume as gifts for only two people: my husband and my youngest brother.
I have bought myself expensive shoes and bags, but the perfume is different. When I was looking at the bottle, I smelled all the good things that it has come to represent. And I thought that if there's one person who deserved it, it would be me.
So every morning I come to work, I look forward to smelling Ralph on myself. It smells like love.
