The Scent of a Mother
“Sometimes you find an old bottle from which the soul returns.”
One of the first questions Radha, the main character in The Perfumist of Paris, asks a woman looking for a new fragrance is, describe your mother’s scent.
“My mother chewed parsley after meals. She loved to bathe in water scented with orange blossoms…I remember her standing by the stove boiling milk. You know that smell? It is like comfort. Like your body is warm all over. She would be making rice pudding, and she would pour a little hot milk in a glass and add sugar to it. Before giving it to me, she would blow on the glass to cool down the milk…Almonds. I remember my mother always smelled of almonds.”
A few more questions and this woman walks away with a purchase she was pleased with: essences of bergamot, carnation, lavender, orris root, musk, amber and cedar trailing behind her.
I crawled into bed early on Tuesday night with The Perfumist of Paris by Alka Joshi and a cup of Women’s Tea from one of my favourite shops in Steveston village, Nikaido. The tea - a blend of cinnamon, apples, ginger, raspberry, fennel, chamomile, cardamom, alchemical, cloves, orange peel, St. John’s wort, black pepper, juniper berries, and goosegrass - tasted as subtle as it smelled.
The Perfumist of Paris is the last book of The Henna Artist trilogy. I have loved them all.
Those of you who have read the Start Here section of this website will know that many sounds fill my heart. But this book, about a woman passionate about scents, filled me with wonder. I learned so much, remembered smells from my childhood, and realized that I am very particular about the fragrances I surround myself with.
Did you know the citrus oil used in fragrances comes from the mist that stings our eyes when we peel the skin of the fruit, not from the juice of the fruit? Or that the fragrance of the middle, leafy layer of a forest is different than from the damp undergrowth? And, the woody, smoky, earthy oil extracted from the roots of vetiver grass is an ingredient found in almost every Western perfume?
But I am most intrigued by Radha’s question in the book, describe the scent of your mother.
My mother wore Opium perfume. Perfume websites inform me that Opium is “inspired by the edgy and daring woman, a seductive women’s perfume”. That is not the mother I remember. She stopped wearing it many years ago. I found a full bottle while packing up her apartment after she died. I thought about keeping it, but the headiness of this strong perfume gave me a headache.
What else do I remember? My mother employed a rigid system to fold sheets that required two people. I hated that chore, yet I loved the crisp, fresh outdoor smell lingering on the sheets. Her favourite flowers were freesias, reminiscent of distant strawberry fields - delicate and sweet. She loved a bouquet of freesias in shades of cream, yellow, mauve, and lavender and would clip off the smallest buds so all the flowers would open.
Kitchen smells, however, top the list! Her cooking in Canada initially consisted of typical Dutch meals - meat, boiled potatoes, and overcooked vegetables. She soon began experimenting with international cuisine. I would come home from school to the smells of rijstafels, curries, and other exotic dishes. Whenever I went back to the Netherlands my mother would give me a long list of spices to pick up from a little shop hidden away in an alley in Leiden. My head would fill with exotic far-away lands when I opened the door. I can still see the wizened old man sliding open drawer after drawer of fragrant spices! My favourite cooking smell though, was my mother’s Dutch meatballs simmering in butter which we would later pour over the boiled potatoes. She also ground coffee by hand every morning, the grinding releasing a blast of aromas. To this day, still one of my favourite smells.
I wondered what scents my daughters associated with me.
Youngest daughter
An ocean breeze fragrant with the smell of freshly roasted coffee and west coast forest drifts by. I am transported back to my childhood, sitting on the deck with my mum, wrapped in quilts, reading books. Books, particularly library books, redolent with the odor of musty paper, also bring me back to that moment. This smell also reminds me of going to story time at the library with my mother and the big pile of books we would head home with after each visit.
The smell of incense brings glimpses of mum in her happy place, working or reading in her office. Almond extract reminds me of the warm milk she would make me. I would sip slowly, so she would massage the growing pains in my legs a little longer. And the earthy, musky aroma of patchouli, mixed with my father's Ralph Lauren Polo, usually meant my parents were heading out for the evening.
The smell of old leather also reminds me of mum. She had a collection of leather book bags and backpacks and always wore leather gloves, soft as butter. The leather interior of her convertible VW Beetle, especially on a warm day, had a slightly earthy tang but also smelled of crayons.
Oldest daughter
Mom always drank freshly roasted coffee, but the smell is most reminiscent of lazy Sunday mornings. Probably because I also associate the smell of baking with Sunday mornings, her Dutch pancakes, famous muffins, sticky with maple syrup, and butterscotch squares.
I often had bad dreams when I was young until mom began spraying my pillow with lavender and smudging my windows with sage smoke to keep the nightmares at bay. I believed her and slept much better after that.
At Christmas, we would make candles as gifts. We would warm the wax with a blowdryer before rolling them. I still love candles; the smell brings back memories of crafting with mom.
And then there were the fragrances throughout the years! When I was young, mom wore Obsession perfume, which I associate most with a long patchwork dress she wore. It had an appliqué on the back of the painting, The Kiss by Gustav Klimt - a couple in a deep embrace. These days, my mother smells of lemongrass and sandalwood. She showers with black rice soap - when she can get it - and the earthy, smoky smell takes me back to hot days we enjoyed under the Indonesian sun.
Interesting how the smells they associate with me are some of the smells I still love the most. As you know, I often mention my cups of freshly ground, French Roast coffee - I’m enjoying one right now as I put the finishing touches to this blog post! I burn incense regularly, sandalwood being my favourite. And while I am not one for beauty products, for years I have purchased black rice soap and aromatic wood body scrub from Thann.
I’d love to hear your memories of your mother’s scent.