For the love of fragrance
Since teenage, I have been an avid user of spray deodorants. Growing up in Delhi, I think it was a necessity to use something of this ilk in order to beat the sweat when out and about in extreme heat using public transport (non-air conditioned buses). And deodorants were cheap and easily accessible with a dizzying variety of fragrances to choose from. Over the last decade though, despite having moved to a much cooler climate and being aware of harmful effects of aerosol sprays, I still didn't think to reform this age-old habit or find a replacement. I can't pinpoint what it must have been - the satisfying sound of a pressurised spray, or the novelty value of a different smell every month, or simply an overhang from my teens, but a deodorant was a necessity or so I believed till very recently.
I can remember how Amma would often pinch her nose finding the very strong smell on my clothes and body unpleasant - sometimes intolerable even. She would then point out the fact that her clothes (and indeed skin) were fragrant without having doused her skin with artificial sprays that overpowered senses. She preferred subtle smells instead, so had a tiny glass bottle containing high-concentration ‘ittar’ (a natural perfume distilled with water) hidden in-between pile of her sarees. I think she also had small artifacts (a pair of elephants) made of sandalwood kept at the far ends of her cupboard. Only on special occasions did she ever apply ‘ittar’ on her skin, that too sparingly - appropriating value as one should to an essence so carefully extracted from nature itself. No wonder then that small bottle seemed to last a lifetime! I can't be sure of that smell except that in its subtle earthiness it was uniquely tasteful.
So when I started evaluating my frequent buys (and indeed expenses) a few months ago and for the love of fragrance itself, I set out to find a replacement for those ultra-cheap sprays. Having used a heady mix of deodorants and perfumes over the years, what I had overlooked was a lighter variant in the form of an eau de toilette. With its natural spray and subtleness of smell, it has the constituents for a perfect post-bath indulgence for use every day. A trade-off that has left me out of pocket but one which is longer lasting and infinitely more appealing to the senses. I am sure Amma would not have pinched her nose this time around.
I can remember how Amma would often pinch her nose finding the very strong smell on my clothes and body unpleasant - sometimes intolerable even. She would then point out the fact that her clothes (and indeed skin) were fragrant without having doused her skin with artificial sprays that overpowered senses. She preferred subtle smells instead, so had a tiny glass bottle containing high-concentration ‘ittar’ (a natural perfume distilled with water) hidden in-between pile of her sarees. I think she also had small artifacts (a pair of elephants) made of sandalwood kept at the far ends of her cupboard. Only on special occasions did she ever apply ‘ittar’ on her skin, that too sparingly - appropriating value as one should to an essence so carefully extracted from nature itself. No wonder then that small bottle seemed to last a lifetime! I can't be sure of that smell except that in its subtle earthiness it was uniquely tasteful.
So when I started evaluating my frequent buys (and indeed expenses) a few months ago and for the love of fragrance itself, I set out to find a replacement for those ultra-cheap sprays. Having used a heady mix of deodorants and perfumes over the years, what I had overlooked was a lighter variant in the form of an eau de toilette. With its natural spray and subtleness of smell, it has the constituents for a perfect post-bath indulgence for use every day. A trade-off that has left me out of pocket but one which is longer lasting and infinitely more appealing to the senses. I am sure Amma would not have pinched her nose this time around.
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