At Last

At Last by Lollia

For Christmas, I bought IZ a fragrance sampler from Sephora. He’s worn the same fragrance for years and he was looking for a change. But differentiating colognes at a mens’ fragrance bar is a next to impossible task. It all starts to smell the same. And even if you can find something you prefer, there’s always the acid test of wearing it. 

Sephora and a trip to Portland to the rescue. The sampler lets you try 20 different colognes and gives you certificate to trade in for a full size bottle of the cologne you like best. It seemed like a good way to try something new without  making a committment to a fragrance in the store.

How pretty is that packaging. . . and I have a new appreciation for yellow all over again. Maybe I should reconsider the paint?

Being IZ,  he’s keeping detailed records about each sample. Mostly based on my reactions. Let’s face it, when you’re in a relationship, fragrance isn’t a unilateral decision. Not if you’re smart, anyhow. Not if what you adore makes your sweetheart sneeze or curl their nose or make them say, “Oh, my grandma used to wear that!”  The choosing of scent becomes this subtle negotiation. Do I love it. Does he crave it?. . . Do I smell uniquely like me? Will she notice?

So far, there have been a couple of real winners: but I’m still waiting for the the ultimate cologne that will past my litmus test: will I follow you, or a strange man, around a store just to catch a whiff of it. I’ll never admit to doing this, of course; but if I’m being honest, there is something lovely about a great smelling man. Ahem. 

I’ve worn Lollia’s Wish since 2007, I think. Maybe 2008, I forget; I just know I’ve got several empty bottles stashed away because they’re too pretty to toss. (hoarder!) I layer the fragrance with bath gel and lotion and  I am not tempted to follow women around stores if they are wearing a pretty perfume. That would be creepy. When it comes to my fragrance, I can’t even be tempted by pretty packaging.

It’s soft and floral and reminds me of sunshine. Lollia sells smaller tubes for about $8–an inexpensive way to try a fragrance. 

However, lately, I’m jealous. IZ gets out of his shower smelling like a different man, a new man. Somedays, a man I make up excuses to talk to during work, just so I can catch a whiff of his cologne. He’s not driven by his nose like I am, and he says he loves my perfume, but he’s not following me around the house. I’m delusional, but I may be in a rut as well. 

Yesterday, we walked around Cannon Beach. It was 50 degrees, sunny, and we desperately needed a break. There was a tester tube of this lotion in a store. I had seen the packaging online and I’d wondered what it smelled like. I never pass up an opportunity for hand lotion in the winter or ever really,  so, I dabbed some on. I was immediately intoxicated. 

“Here,” shoving my hand under his nose, “smell this. . . ” 

“Uh-huh… pretty.” 

(Short of wearing a fragrance that smells like prime rib, I probably need to let it go.) And then I spent the rest of the afternoon smelling my hands and sighing so much, that IZ went back to the store and bought me a tube of the stuff before we left.

It totally feels like I’m cheating–but I don’t feel like me, either. I feel new. At last.