Scent of a woman

Forget the cookie, a smell can really take you back. I was perfume shopping last night; or rather, I was trying to find the perfume I used to wear, which Sephora no longer carries (Jill Sander No. 4 -- know where I can get some?)

I tried to describe the scent to the woman at Bloomingdale's (spicy, vaguely oriental) and commented that it reminded me of my grandmother -- not that I want to smell like my grandmother, but that it seemed like an older scent. Like it could have been a perfume from the 20s or 30s.

She sprayed something on me and said "did it smell like this?"

And I said "Hm, I like that, but it's really familiar. What is it?"

It was Opium, which I couldn't place for a while, but then realized it was what my mother wore for years (She's since switched to Sung).

Some of the spray got on my coatsleeve, and I've consequently been thinking of my mother all day. In a way it's kind of comforting: Opium is in no way a "maternal" smell -- it's not like cookies or baby-powder or anything -- the company's web site describes it as "voluptuous, provocating and bewitching." But it's what my mother smelled like when I was young, and it's giving me that comforting "Mommy's here" feeling.