A little story -- Dec. 26 UPDATE

I have a friend of 24 years standing. We met when her need for typesetting and design of her antique sampler reproduction kits and catalog brought her to my newly hatched graphics business.

Until I discovered fragrances three or four years ago, I didn't know that M had a modest fragrance wardrobe. She said I made her come out of the closet when I expressed my newfound enthusiasm for perfume. It was she who introduced me to Angel and Angel Innocent and Thymes Fig Leaf & Cassis.

As I gathered fragrance samples, I set aside those I thought M might like, and one day she fell in love with Susanne Lang Peony Rose, which, as luck would have it, was discontinued. However, Lang & Co. said they'd mix up a bottle just for M. My friend was thrilled. I don't think she could believe a perfumer would do such a thing. Well, months dragged on, and the Peony Rose never blossomed forth. I added my email voice to M's pleas for a response. We were bummed, but of course M was so much more grieved than I.

About two months ago, M developed a cold that went from bad to worse and dragged on. Her doc gave her a string of antibiotics to fight pneumonia, and still things got worse. (If Lievje's son weren't getting better, I wouldn't even want to relate now how sick M became.) She was finally hospitalized, and I don't need to share details, but after a week, she was sent home with stitches, steroids, and a three-month program for oxygen.

M's three-level, historic house was strung with tubes so she could be attached to oxygen in whichever area she needed to be. And she was forbade from going outside. Outside is where she longed to be, with her sheep, chickens, peacocks, llamas, and who-knows-what critters. Her ex-husband, who got the 40 acres next door in their divorce, had to visit every day to keep things going and then help dispense M's beloved flock.

I was happy to think that at least M was on the mend. I sent her a little giftie, some frag samples I thought she'd like, and a card with a puffin bird on it, along with the cheer "Keep on Puffin'!" She was looking forward to smelling pretty, non-hospital things again.

Then, three days ago, M forwarded this email to me from the operations manager of Susanne Lang Parfumerie in Toronto:
I am so sorry for the delay. Susanne was travelling extensively. We are currently blending your order and it will be $70.00 per 50ml bottle and I will need a mailing address and credit card information and I will send right away.

As M said:
JOY! SANTA HAS COME THROUGH! EVERYTHING'S SQUARED AWAY WITH MEGHAN AND SHE SAID SHE'S SHIPPING THE PEONY ROSE TOMORROW. I AM THRILLED, BECAUSE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING COMPARES.
IN-SCENTS,
M

I thought you'd enjoy a story with a fragrant, happy ending.

As funny as the mental image of barking seals in an apartment is, I, too, have a greater respect for the seriousness of seemingly routine colds. I had one two years ago I now refer to as "the coughing cold" cuz it hung on for weeks, especially odd as I rarely suffer cold. I suspect mutating viruses and bacteria are to blame. Take good care, Indi.

December 26 brings an email from M:

It came in an unmarked box, left outside for almost 24 hours, anonymous except for her name. It's a puffer. What a thrilling Christmas present. I'll be smelling like a peony rose for weeks. You get a big thrill in the first five minutes, then it lulls in to a spectacular fade. I adore the first hit, the heavenly aftermath is even better.

Just two sprays: one onto my gown, the other onto my oxygen tube.
Blip.
Off to Nirvana.
I'm still amazed that a major parfumiere cooked up a special batch just for me. She didn't imprint the scent name on the new bottle. It's just an anonymous batch.