2020 Hindsight posted this lead to a New Yorker piece by Chandler Burr, author of The Emperor of Scent: A Story of Perfume, Obsession, and the Last Mystery of the Senses, a book that might break my heart if I read it.
Not your fault, 2020, or Mr. Burr. It’s just that I’ve always had this romantic notion of how perfume should be designed, by a conjurer in an exotic garden in the Virgin Islands, or next door to the Dalai Lama in Dharamsala, using nothing but fresh flowers and some kind of secret spells. I don’t want to learn it’s all done in a sterile lab, or that it has anything to do with fashion runways, or—especially—haughty designers’ reps who would dare tell the perfumer that his essais (olfactory sketches) stink. But I may read the book anyway, because sometimes curiousity overrides my need for fantasy.
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Thanks so much for your comment of support for my mom. Yes, the medical system is a frustrating and frightening quagmire, isn’t it? I’ve had some experiences with it myself. Especially frustrating (and maddening) is the cavalier attitude toward pain. I’m hopeful that my mom’s pain is in the process of improving with the dialysis — I’m pretty sure this has been going on for quite a while, but the severity was masked by the previous back issues she’s had. Again, thanks so much for your support!
Comment by Tonya — April 21, 2005 @ 8:54 pm