Twirl

This past weekend, dear friends, I decided I needed a perfume. Now, I am not really a "perfume" person - I tend to avoid those store entrances in malls that are lined with perfume counters as they give me an agonizing headache. I've noticed, though, that my husband's cologne is a smell I have come to associate with him. He only purchased this cologne in London in December 2010, and yet it has now become a scent that makes me think of him when I am laundering his shirts. I suppose it has become his "trademark fragrance", and I began to think I might want one, too. This decision coincided with the opening of a brand new drugstore in my city, and one with an impressive selection of designer perfumes.

I went down to the local store, and was dazzled by the display. I had no idea how to choose a fragrance - I know what I don't like, which are perfumes that are too funeral-home flowery or musk-heavy. But how to choose a perfume? I decided, in a way that will likely only make sense to me, that what I needed to do was look at the perfumes by some of my favourite designers. The reasoning was that if I liked their clothing then perhaps I would also find their scents appealing. Surprisingly this theory was quite sound, and I found several fragrances I liked - ones by Versace and Burberry, Chanel and Dior. None of them seemed quite right, though, until I stumbled upon a new perfume called "Twirl" from Kate Spade. Now, I like Kate Spade quite a lot. Many of her designs have a retro-50's feel, which is an era in clothing design I've always admired - those nipped waists and little black dresses appeal to me. She has brought these designs into the new millennium, though, like this one:

Kate Spade also designs shoes, and since I loved those shoes I was very hopeful about "Twirl", too :

Kate Spade designs are feminine without being cloying, sweet without the sugar rush. Finding a new scent by this designer seemed auspicious and it begged to be tried. So, I pulled down the bottle of Twirl, and sprayed it on a card to experience the scent. Satisfied that it was not too floral or too musky I then sprayed it on my wrists and neck.

Almost immediately it felt right. There was just something about it, something that seemed very "me". There are floral notes in it - according to a description I found online it combines orange blossom, magnolia, and jasmine. There are notes of blackberry, watermelon, and red currant. And yet there is even a bit of a bakery scent about it, too, which I found described as "a touch of a French macaroon fresh from a patisserie". It was not an overwhelming scent, just the right touch of floral and fruit and yes, even bakery. Even the bottle felt right to me, and the name just evoked a sense of whimsy and joy. I felt enveloped in a sense of happiness when I inhaled the fragrance, and it seemed perfect.

So, I purchased my new "signature scent", and home I went to pull it out of the carton. I arrived at home, pulled off the plastic wrap, opened the box and stopped dead. There on the carton liner was this:

Just those simple words, and yet as soon as I saw them it seemed fate meant this perfume for me. You see, I know I can't walk around every day with a cocktail in my hand and confetti in my hair as if I have just arrived at a party - but, dear friends, I can live like I do. I can live every day like it's a party, and a day to celebrate. I can envelope myself in this fragrance and let it remind me that every day is a reason for joy. I can let it remind me that we can find joy in a cup of coffee, a text from a friend, a beautiful flower, or a lovely scent that resonates with our soul.

I wore my new fragrance out that night to a gala evening event, and during that event whenever I caught a whiff of my new scent I thought "cocktail in hand and confetti in hair" - and the event just seemed that much sweeter, and that much more celebratory. I didn't just find a new scent, dear friends - I found yet another reason for joy. Those reasons are everywhere, just waiting to be found, and sometimes even at a drugstore perfume counter.