When I had proven myself with Lace, and demonstrated that I was not going to drench myself in scent, I was given permission to have real perfume. A proper perfume from a department store. It was a very exciting prospect and I began to plan my list of potential candidates.
As it turned out though I was going to get a real perfume I was not in fact going to get a real choice. Or indeed any choice.
The scent my mother selected, in conjunction with the counter lady, was Rive Gauche. I’m not sure how they came to decide this was an appropriate scent for me, but this they did.
It’s a perfectly nice scent. To teenage me it smelled what I imagined the 1970s smelled like. Which is oddly appropriate since it was launched in 1971. My mother described it to me as “modern” and “trendy” which naturally in my head translated to “its older than methuselah”.
Like Lace I was not allowed to control the perfume. It lived in the box in my mother’s drawer. That it was not my preferred choice did not deter me. I still wanted to wear it as often as possible. I continued to be banned from wearing it on schooldays.
I think my mother and grandmother thought getting me a proper perfume would shut me up at least until my thirties. I’d have a go to single scented staple until I reached my maturity. Alas they were quite quite wrong.