The Head Note, perceived immediately upon applying the scent.
Maybe if I had known what a nose (perfumer) was much earlier in life then things might have turned out differently. But how was I to know that such a thing even existed, let alone dream of becoming one? I am an immigrant; a child of laborers who immigrated to Hawaii from the Philippines to toil in the pineapple fields. There was little time or money left over after day-to-day concerns to indulge in any revelatory experiences. Be practical, or as my mother reminded my younger sister and I, to reach for the moon and not the stars.
Education was neither encouraged nor discouraged; there was an unspoken understanding that I would follow in my parents’ footsteps. Unfortunately, I was doubly cursed with an intellect and delicate hands. It was obvious to anyone that I was meant for something other than manual labor. But that was all there was: recognition, no encouragement.
There is a noticeable resignation, almost bordering on embarrassment, when asked why I had majored in accounting in college. I had gone to into my studies at the University of Hawaii with no particular area in mind, hoping that by the time I had to declare my major some field of concentration would have piqued my interest. But that was not the case. So I fell back on what was familiar: accounting. I had taken a bookkeeping class in high school and felt it was a profession in which I would almost certainly find a job. It seemed like everyone was looking to hire a number-cruncher.
As I think back on that time, I should have been less of a pragmatist and more of a dreamer. I should have also not thought so little of myself and instead trusted my intuition, no matter how unrealistic it might have been. It would have been better to resolutely pursue a degree in Chemistry (even if it lead to nowhere) than to resign to a field that I was never truly interested in from the outset.
The Heart Note, revealed as the scent of the Head Note dissipates.
One of my fondest memories of childhood was marveling at the sheer number of airlines that existed in the world and the foreign lands they reached. If there was any indication that travel would play a large part later in my life than it was that 6-year-old boy sitting mesmerized in economy class on a flight back to Hawaii from the Philippines, eyes fixated on a magazine about the many different air carriers, their logos, their destinations given to him by a friendly co-pilot.
Then there were those silly fantasies of Paris in my teenage years. Somehow the universe would conspire to lead me to live a life in France. I would have shed my pubescent awkwardness by then and be fluent in French, Italian, Spanish, and English. One day, when least unexpected, while strolling along the Seine, I would catch the eye of a handsome Parisian, enamored by my otherness. We would fall madly and deeply in love. My days would be spent be concocting fragrances at a famous French parfumerie. In the evenings and on the weekends, we would entertain family and friends from around the globe and discover the hidden gems of France and the whole of Europe.
The Base Note, discerned long after the scents of the Head and Heart Notes have faded.
The sense of smell is often the most unappreciated; it is the one I think many people would forego if forced to choose. But for me, the opposite is true. Our olfactory ability brings an added dimension to the experience of life that no other sense can.
Just the simple whiff of diesel while fueling my car at the gas station brings back the vibration of the tricycle and the rush of air hitting my face as we made our way down the international highway that bisected my hometown in the Philippines. Memories, both good and bad, of that wonderful visit long ago soon come flooding in.
Although the unmistakable scent of the tomato plant is meant to be a deterrent for pests and disease, the oil that exudes from hair-like fuzz on the stems and leaves brings me a brief moment of joy. Why so is still a mystery.
Bob claims that the fragrance of Issey Miyake’s L’eau d’Issey Pour Homme reminds him of the night we met almost two and half decades ago. For me, the cologne and its mysterious ability to arouse emotion were the early stirrings that I might have been choosing the wrong career path. If only I had paid attention.
But that dream will remain a dream. And although some people have achieved their passions later in life, I am too set in my ways. The time to be a dreamer has long passed. Only a conspiration of the universe could help me now. In the meanwhile, the next best thing was to visit Grasse, the perfume capital of world, while we were in Provence.
Post Script. I am enamored with the French word Sillage (pronounced “see yaajh”). According to Wikipedia, the term “refers to the trail created by a perfume when it is worn on the skin. It comes from the word in French for ‘wake’ and can be best described as how a fragrance diffuses behind the wearer as they move.”.
Post Script. Almost a half year after our 2015 European trip and at the suggestion of our then chiropractor, I forked out $750 to take an aptitude assessment at the Johnson O’Connor Research Foundation branch in downtown Seattle. Maybe just maybe, it would reveal some hidden secret aptitude and open up an new field for me.
But alas, I am destined to be a number-cruncher.
