Friday, April 17, 2009
Is it because blondes are called vanilla girls (or, in French, des filles à la vanille), and that as children my sister and I were blondies, our hair bleached by Kenya's sun?
Or maybe it's because of memories of my mum's wonderful cakes, enhanced with intoxicating vanilla extract she always brought back from Uruguay in her suitcase, claiming it was much better than the French or American equivalents...
Whatever the reason, my sister and I both adore the scent of vanilla - she wears the Body Shop's Vanilla Perfume Oil, while I just bought the Comptoir Sud Pacifique's Vanille Extrême. This is the exact scent my dear Chloé used to wear when we were in high school, so I think of her as I spray it on. It also brings me back to the plump, luscious vanilla beans that someone very special once brought back for me straight from Madagascar.
It is a bit odd, as I usually favor fresh, citrus-y smells with green notes, such as my usual fragrance, Blenheim Bouquet by Penhaligon, rather than sweet scents; but I guess you can't defeat the attachment that comes from an emotionally-tinged aroma.