The Smell of a Woman

(circa 2001)

Mary Harycki

Today, as I bathe, I am overwhelmed by my bathing supplies and their smells.

First, I put in some bubbles that smell like Serini Tea (as the label says).

Though the potion is green the smell is sweeter than green tea,

if you can imagine that.

Next, I wash my body with Lemongrass and Limeleaf Gentle Body Wash.

The smell is heavenly.

Thinks of lemons and limes together, and lying in a field of fresh grass.

In addition to the lemons and limes and grass, the gentle body wash

also contains coconut milk, hibiscus and vitamin C.

There is a slight tinge of coconut to the mixture,

but I could not discern hibiscus,

or of course not the vitamin C.

I wondered what it was doing in the body wash:

what good would vitamin C do to my skin as I lay in my bath?

I have no idea; perhaps I should write to the manufacturer and ask.

The body wash is made by the company called The Thymes Limited,

but instead of mailing them I just read what it said on the back label:

"In a tropical garden, a late afternoon rain spills from a sunlit sky.

This body wash captures that moment, leaving you naturally rejuvenated.

Coconut milk creates a creamy lather to gently cleanse,

While nourishing extracts of hibiscus and lime deliver Vitamin C

To help skin heal and look younger."

So now we know. But the smell is still heavenly, and the list of ingredients

include hibiscus extract, lemongrass extract, coconut milk, and lime peel extract.

I wonder how the company peels their limes to get the lime peel extract?

Maybe I could ask them that in a letter.

And do they crack the coconuts before extracting just the milk?

And what do they do with the residual coconut meal and the shell?

I understand that the meal can be used as a nourishing food,

and the shell is also useftil and should not be discarded.

So maybe I should write to The Thymes Limited and ask them

if they recycle the coconut meal and the shell.

If they don't it might put the idea in their mind,

and be a useful thing for our environment.

Back to the bath.

For washing my hair I used a shampoo that was labeled Lavender,

Passion Flower and Vitamin B5. I don't know what the vitamin B5

was supposed to do to my hair, but once again I read the label.

"Herbal Care Lavender, Passion Flower and Vitamin B5

Leaves hair soft, silky and naturally beautiftil.

The Fresh Herbal Scent invigorates the senses."

The last was true, but I couldn't really detect Passion Flower

in the shampoo, but the lavender was definitely there, and the list

of ingredients did have Lavender (Angustifolia) Extract on it

as well as Passion Flower (Passiflor Edulis) Extract,

so they both must have been in there.

I need to go to a florist shop and smell the difference

between lavender and passion flower to really distinguish the difference.

In addition to the ingredients listed above, the shampoo also

contained Citric Acid, which is commonly called Vitamin C.

Where the Vitamin B5 came from I could not discern,

unless its technical name was Benzophenone-4,

or Methylcholroisothiazolinone.

I think I could look those terms up in a large dictionary,

but my small Webster's International doesn't contain them.

Since I always wash my hair twice, the second time

I used Strawberry Shampoo, with a

"Gentle cleansing and refreshing aroma for all hair types."

I know what real strawberries smell like.

I used to pick them near the cemetery in the town I grew up in,

and the fragrance of wild strawberries that I filled my small container

with was too beautiful for words.

This shampoo was only vaguely reminiscent of the days

when I would bike out to the cemetery to where I knew

the wild strawberries always hid,

and bring them home as a treat

for my father to eat as a dessert

with sugar and cream.

After I emerged from the bath,

I used some Ginger Gloss Smoothing Body Oil

on my legs and my feet, which are usually dry.

The Ginger Gloss did smell like ginger,

a spice I have used many times,

and it was glossy, even greasy you might say.

No doubt that came from the eucalyptus (eucalyptus citriodora) oil,

which was listed in the ingredients on the back

(I needed a magnifying glass to read them)

along, with of course ginger (zingiber officinale),

clove (eugenia caryophyllus) buds, distilled lime (citrus aurantifolia),

sweet Valencia orange (citrus sinensis),

and bergamot (citrus bergamia),

grapefruit (citrus paradisi) and lemon (citrus lemon) essential oils.

I feel like using some more right now to smooth my body,

especially my feet which are again unusually dry.

And I did that, and the intoxicating sense of the spices,

oranges and other citrus fruits was so delicious

I wish you could have smelled it.

I am almost through now, scenting myself

with delicious and secret odors.

After I rinse and towel myself dry,

there is one more thing I must do:

put on a few scents for the day,

meaning a cologne, and perhaps a perfume, too.

Today, as a cologne I choose the latest Caswell-Massey

Eau de Cologne that I bought, right here in Milwaukee,

in a small shop on the East Side.

I love Caswell-Massey colognes

and I used to be able to buy them only in Chicago

at a small shop in Water Tower Place on Michigan Avenue

where they sold soaps, colognes, and perfumes.

Along with Caswell-Massey products

I was particularly partial to colognes made by Floris,

at 89 Jermyn Street, London 9, Wl.

I still have two bottles of Floris

which I used to buy at Nieman-Marcus in Chicago, I believe,

when I worked or visited there,

and one is called Wild Hyacinth Toilet Water,

which is like a Cologne and meant to be splashed on your body

after you bathe,

and the other is Lavender Traditional English Toilet Water,

"a delicate and lasting Cologne capturing the fragrance of the flower itself."

I open the bottle and splash some on my arms and the fragrance of lavender overwhelms me.

I dare not try the Wild Hyacinth now; the two smells would be intoxicating.

But I can open the bottle and inhale the fumes, and know how wild hyacinths smell.

The only bottle ofCaswell-Massey Cologne, which is somewhat like a toilet water,

is called, of all things, Cucumber Eau de Cologne.

Where did I pick this bottle up, right here in Milwaukee?

I haven't been out of town in ages.

I think it was in a small shop on the East Side,

called Soaps and Scents,

But Cucumber Eau de Cologne does not smell like cucumbers.

I should know; I've grown cucumbers. I've sliced them into salads,

And I've eaten them. Yet there is something about this Cologne

if you splash a little on your arms,

that sends the scent of cucumbers to your nose,

and you will walk around smelling like a very nice vegetable,

which not many people have ever really smelled,

until your next bath.

There are ever so many more scents that I haven't touched upon

and that I would like to smell like: a rose, for example.

Any rose, or whole bouquet of them.

I know, a rose is a rose is a rose,

but how many scents make you smell like a rose?

I can't think of one right offhand,

but no doubt I could visit the little shop in Water Tower Place

in Chicago and find Tuberose Soaps and rose scented eau de colognes.

Or there may be a small place in Milwaukee that could answer

my craving for a scent that would make me smell like a rose.

I would like that more than anything.