angel

sometimes perfume is just perfume until enough years happen around it. #

Mom had colleagues over again tonight and before I even came downstairs I knew because I could smell coffee and Angel. That combination is practically architectural now. Papers on the table, cups everywhere, Mom moving between rooms, that sweet perfume in the hallway. I went downstairs for tea and one of them asked whether I was going out later because apparently my eyeliner had already announced my plans before I did. Yes. Obviously.

It made me think again about why the copied Angel answer annoyed me. Not because I believe nobody else is allowed to wear it. Millions of people wear Angel. It annoyed me because a test reduces everything to answers without the route that produced them. Favourite perfume: Angel. That’s the answer. But behind mine is Mom. Her coats. Her room. Me being younger. Me borrowing it before I was old enough to buy expensive perfume without thinking about the price. Me using it before dates with Yuri. Christmas. Work meetings. Home. Somebody can copy the word `”Angel”` and none of that travels with it.

Maybe that’s the difference between a profile and a person.

God, that sounds philosophical for somebody currently waiting for Yuri to call from downstairs.

Remember me, Eclipse.