Have you ever noticed how certain smells can take you back in time, to another place altogether? For me, it’s Vitamin E cream, but even more so, Chanel number 5. These were my grandmother’s two staple products, and in my mind, they will forever be connected to her, no matter how I use them. It’s one comfort I’ve never forgotten to be thankful for.
See, my grandmother was the most amazing person I’ve ever met. She was strong, and wise, and determined, and independent, and, when she looked at me, it was the only time in life I ever felt understood. In the years since her passing, no one has been quite able to fill those shoes, and that has left me wondering if maybe I built her up into something superhuman, something more than she really was, something unattainable. But I don’t think so. And, even if I have, I really don’t care. What is so wrong with my image of her? Is it really so bad for me to have her as the one person I consider to be my hero?
Don’t get me wrong, I know she had her flaws, but her story and her life never fails to make me aspire to be better. Her strength and independence never stopped her ability to connect to people or be honest and venerable in her relationships. She was the best of both worlds. She spent her hours giving, or figuring out how to. Whether she was sneaking a 20 into my back pocket as she hugged me, or gift-wrapping all her presents to my 10 year old self from Santa (of course in her very distinctive handwriting), or sending me my monthly two dollar bill, I always knew she was thinking of me with nothing but love and acceptance. I must have hundreds of dollars in two dollar bills sitting somewhere at home, but their monetary value will never exceed their emotional value, and I will keep all of them always.
I remember looking up to her, even as a young child. In the morning I would carefully study her routine as she “put on her face”, applied her Chanel number 5, and walked out to face the day. And at night, I watched in awe as she sat at her mirror “taking off her face” and slathering on her Vitamin E cream. The routine ran like clockwork; the certainty, the smells, they all gave me hope, and maybe even some faith. I hoped one day to be just like her. I hoped to have it all together like her one day. I think the whole family felt that way. I think that’s why Chanel number 5 became that habitual gift we always got her for her birthday. Even though we got it every year, it was never a throw away gift. It was her scent. It was a part of her, and it was a part of our family. To this day, over a decade after her passing, I still carry her Chanel number 5 with me. No matter how many times I’ve moved (over 20), or what state I might be living in that day (most of the east coast), or what kind of house/apartment/camper/insert sketchy abode here I might be going to, I’ve never once left it behind, which says more than you know.
My friends will tell you I’m not necessarily the most emotional or sentimental person out there. Yes, I’ve kept a few keepsakes over my 27 years… in a box, in a closet, at my parents place, usually across the country from where I was living at that moment. I’m someone who feels that the act of moving is a great time to purge, and I learned to only carry with me what is absolutely vital. But, no matter where I’ve gone, no matter how many times I’ve moved, I have always kept a bottle of her Chanel number 5 with me, like the act of holding onto that would keep her close. At the end of a bad day, I spray her perfume on my wrists before I sleep. If I’m searching for comfort I spray it all over my room just so I can close my eyes and breathe in her scent. Never once has it not been a priority for me to keep that glass bottle safe and close.
So, as I begin this journey, I feel it is pertinent for me to explain its namesake to you. After all, this is really all for her in some way. Although she’s been gone over a decade now, she is still my gold standard. She is still the one person I want to call for advice. Especially in my 20’s, I’ve wished for her guidance over and over again… if only I could ask Mama. But I can’t, and no amount of imagined conversations with her will equate to the one I wish I could have face to face just one more time. Instead, I hold her memories, the feeling that I had in the time I got to spend with her, the way I felt like I really was enough when she looked at me, and the knowledge of her amazing heart. I’ve realize that in some ways, I live for her. I want to live a life that would make her proud. I want to use an honest and compassionate voice and never back away from a challenge. I want to create the love and connection around me that she created around her. She was the center of our family. She’s the one who brought us all together, and, without her, in many ways, we’ve all lost each other. It was like we all orbited around her, like she kept us in sync. I think that’s why I’ve spent the better part of my life longing to be the center of a community, the one everyone comes to for love, advice, and comfort. I’ve longed to take on her role. I’ve longed to become that gravity.
Although the world continues to progress, I feel that, in some ways, we’ve really lost our way. The value placed on individuality has begun to far outweigh the value of community. We’ve forgotten that we need and rely on each other. We’ve forgotten our orbit. In an age where unconditional love and acceptance have become harder and harder to find, the values Mama taught me have shown me the road I want to walk down, she is the beacon that lights my way and keeps me fighting, and her Chanel is the scent that always bring me back into the safety of her arms.
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