As I walked in to the wool shop, I caught a small hint of a smell that automatically made my heart lurch and turn sharply for the door.
It was a heady scent of days long past and the sun streaming in through my mothers bedroom window making a rainbow on the wall. Little motes fluttering in the sunshine from the talcum powder.
I am sat on the bed, watching attentively as she pampered and preened. Apply makeup, green eye shadow, face powder, a touch of blush and lipstick, always with a lip linger. She has heated rollers in her hair and a scarf over the top. I try not top stair at the swirls as I know they will make me all dizzy.
Under her dressing gown she will have on her best underwear, always matching, just waiting to be covered by the outfit she has chosen earlier. She carefully slips on her clothes. Not disturbing her makeup of the rollers in her hair. The hot brush is warming up on the bedside table, so she can finish off any unruly hair. She then asks me to fasten her necklace and bracelet and clips on her ear rings. She slips on her healed shoes and just before leaving the room, she sprays her scent, Armani and if I am lucky I will get a small spray too.
I follow her down the stairs, my beautiful Mum.
I have that perfume, it was discontinued years ago and I remember my father buying bottles of it, as it was my mums signature scent, in fact it was the only one she wore. He didnt want her to run out and she had a bottle opened and a sealed bottle in the drawer.
Inspired by this wonderful post by Victoria Wallop
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