The Nose Knows

Not Your Mother's Shalimar

There’s a new lady in town, and her beauty won’t stay bottled up for long.

The iconic bold fragrance in an Art Deco bottle.

Recently unveiled Shalimar L'Essence Eau de Parfum Intense features 

modern golden lettering and a vanilla-drenched profile. 

Eau de parfum from $115.

BY ALICE GARBARINI HURLEY

Shalimar, the storied French fragrance that has captured hearts and gazes since 1925, was the guest of honor in the Waldorf Astoria on January 31. To fete her 100^th birthday, a rejiggered version of the scent favored by screen sirens Marilyn Monroe and Rita Hayworth was uncapped, passed hand to hand, sprayed and sniffed in the hotel’s new fifth floor Guerlain Wellness Spa.

A clutch of 56 guests of Sniffapalooza, the fragrance fan group founded in 2004, were there to meet and greet the icon's little sister, while sipping mimosas and nibbling on pastel pink and green macarons. Many purchased bottles of either the classic or new Shalimar formula from the gilded Guerlain boutique on-site. Some had loved the scent since their late teens, when their mothers gifted them a bottle, a sign that they were finally women. The classic, time-tested eau de parfum starts at $110 a bottle.

“Shalimar was independence for women,” said Lee Davidson-Xhakollari, Guerlain Manager of Education. In the 1920s, women were cutting their hair shorter and swingy, freer flapper styles were emerging.

Shalimar introduced the first footed perfume bottle, on a pedestal, with a fluted "batwing" design and then a signature blue, fan-shaped Baccarat Crystal stopper.

The glamorous crystal stopper is now a thing of the past, 

though a blue cap, batwing shape and pedestal remain.

Vintage bottles, like this one from the 1940s or 1950s, are collectibles. 

Image from GoldenAgePerfumes, an Etsy seller from Kansas.  

                                                                The fragrance was "conceived in a garden of India."

Shalimar perfume history began with Shah Jahan, the 17th century Mughal emperor of India, who was mourning the death of his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal. He built the Taj Mahal and the royal Shalimar gardens in her honor as a timeless tribute to their love. Inspired by this story, Jacques Guerlain created the sensual, opulent scent--the first amber--with woody, sweet and floral components. The blue, fan-shaped bottle stopper is said to be inspired by silverware owned by the Guerlain family.

On Saturday, guests passed around the footed and still sapphire-blue capped bottles, waving their wrists, or Guerlain paper cards, for first and second impressions. The intense contemporary eau de parfum “celebrates vanilla in every form,” according to Guerlain, incorporating precious Madagascan vanilla tincture. The “floral heart" blends bergamot with rose absolute and iris.  

“I like the original Shalimar better,” said veteran sniffer Judy Davis of New York City. "But," she cautioned, "you can’t buy a perfume online. I never have. You have to smell it.” 

Snowy Morning at the Waldorf

The group included “noses” who had traveled from Poughkeepsie, Philly or other parts of NYC. 

“This event sold out in six hours,” said Karen Dubin, founder and CEO of the fragrance group, “with a waiting list of 30.” She has collected scents since age 6 (Arpège by Lanvin) and has over 2,000 in her New York apartment. The original Shalimar “was too cloyingly sweet” for her. But the new Shalimar L'Essence Eau de Parfum Intense? “I’m wearing it and can’t stop wearing it,” Dubin said. She plans to spritz it on for cocktail parties.

You will have to mist your wrist and decide for yourself.

Sniffapalooza hosts several events a year, in places from far-flung Provence lavender fields to bespoke boutiques, including Frédéric Malle on Madison Avenue and Hermès. In the Waldorf Astoria lobby, a second Guerlain Boutique is fully stocked with fragrances, makeup (KissKiss Bee Glow Hydrating Tinted Lip Oil in a lavender hue, anyone?) and refillable candles, steps from the historic Peacock Alley Bar.

 

 

Blessings Today: Spiritual and Store-Bought

A quick list.

1. My new Peanuts notebook from the Moleskine store in Moynihan Train Hall, up the escalator on the second floor. I love it. I made a list this morning of tasks for Life and for Work and found it helpful. I was productive. Dan usually doesn't read my blog, so I will say that I got him one, too (he loves Peanuts!!!!) for Father's Day. His set (shown above) includes 4 iconic Blackwing for Moleskine pencils. The following legends loved their Blackwings: John Steinbeck, Truman Capote, E.B. White, Aaron Copeland, Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, Eugene O'Neill. You had me at Capote and White.
2. Restore & Release Yoga class tonight with Krystal at Yoga Mechanics in Montclair. "People say 'take up space,'" she said near the end. "You don't take up space, you fill the space you're given." I hope I got her wise words right. Also, lovely music and a drop of moon oil at the end, so beautiful.
3. Jones Road The Nail Polish Kit from Montclair resident Bobbi Brown. I brushed on Poppy tonight, her signature red. It feels modern and clean, went on smoothly, dried quickly. The kit includes a bottle that doubles as base and top coat. Yay. 
   
   
   
4. The New York Times cookbook, No-Recipe Recipes by Sam Sifton. I bought the crimson, cloth-covered book at Friends NYC shop in Bushwick, Brooklyn on Saturday on a fun weekend with Kim, Liz and Nan. Already made the savory French toast with torn basil and tomatoes and the pasta with puttanesca sauce. Empowering and stylish book. I take it with me to the supermarket.
5. Wednesday interactions with Figgy. My niece Leah, up in Maine. My sister. My garden.

Good night.

Brushing up on Beauty Product Launches

The Tek purse set, with small oval paddle brush, comb and ecru cotton travel pouch. Handmade in Italy. I met the little fella through a Zoom product launch this week. It comes in red, pink (rosa), lime, orange, light blue and natural.

Let's play a game of telephone. You remember that, right? Someone starts a word or phrase and whispers it to the person beside them. The message is passed along and then the last person repeats what they heard. So funny. The words get scrambled and everyone laughs.

With social media saturation, beauty brands can share something new in a hurried whisper, putting product samples in the hands of influencers to keep the message accurate and on point. Bring on the views, the clicks, the purchases. The message is not garbled.

New beauty potions have long been delivered to magazines with opulent bouquets and gifts to catch the editor's eye. Then there are breakfasts, dinners, spa visits, treatments. (Try Botox on your lunch break, our treat.) I once went to a spa weekend in Montauk, in the Hamptons, for a product line launch. A party bus picked editors up in NYC after work. (My friend Moey watched young Figgy back home.) We had a lobster dinner, with lobster bibs, and played a game at the table that involved guessing things about the lipsticks.

Today, lavish events still happen, but cue the Zoom launch. You get an email invite (Tek's was from polished PR person Pauline). You RSVP. The samples are sent to your doorstep/mailbox, so you can try them, hold them. I don't pursue many invites, because they take time, unless I have a related assignment, or if the product catches my eye.

The Zoom is maybe 30 minutes, with colleagues and a beauty expert to talk about the brand. 

Snip, snap, done. Now here I am blogging about this purse set* from Tek, a brush company founded in Italy in 1977.

Until now, the other mini brush of my dreams was the travel gold hairbrush from Aerin. I loved it so much, I ordered it for Spice for Christmas 2023, when she was 16. Like Tek, it is also handcrafted in Italy. But beyond that, the little wonder is galvanized with 24k gold.

________________________________________________

*Tek's claims, abridged:

Our small purse brush made of 100% FSC®-certified ash wood, detangles without damaging the hair. The wood is stained in a water-based, non-toxic, non-allergenic colour, the handle is treated with vegetable waxes and oils...and the white cushion is in pure rubber. The small brush is practical to carry everywhere, whether traveling, at the beach or the gym. 

Our products are vegan and 100% FSC®-certified, meaning they are produced with the environment in mind. To further reduce their environmental impact, they come with unique and ecological packaging, highlighting our commitment to beauty and sustainability. 

16 Sweet Gratitudes, Catching Up

1. New Prada lipstick in the house. I bought my first tube in mid-May at the Nordstrom flagship in NYC and used it down to the nub. The colors are so stylish. Prada is so stylish. A lot of lettuce, $50 plus tax, but very worth it. The counter guru helped me find two great hues in person now. But the matte is a bit drying, so best to put the Prada lip balm under or on top, or even dab on Vaseline.
2. Lunch with young MTM*, my colleague and friend, a couple of Sundays ago in Princeton. We ate on Witherspoon Street. MTM had a salad and I had the chicken pot pie. It was a beautiful day, and we had been talking about reconnecting for years. :)
3. Chef Lidia Bastianich at the Ferguson Library in Stamford on a weeknight with Sis and Diane. We soaked up Lidia's hints, such as how to tell if you're buying real Italian San Marzano tomatoes. If a food is made in Italy, the packaging will say PRODUCT OF ITALY, Lidia said. I used that rule when selecting prosciutto last weekend.
4. "A Wonderful World, The Louis Armstrong Musical" on Broadway. I went to the matinee yesterday with Sis and Edie. It was.very.very.good. I've played Satchmo's music today. 
5. Post-theater dinner two blocks away at Patsy's, a landmark Italian restaurant and celeb magnet on West 56th Street since 1944. Best shrimp scampi with spaghetti that I have ever eaten. In my life. The simple pan sauce was intuitively done, "broiled with butter, garlic and lemon," per the menu. Tender butterflied shrimp. And if I were still indulging in desserts, I'm quite sure the ones I eyed on the old-fashioned rolling cart, pushed by a waiter, would have been winning. Especially that fancy ruffled chocolate cake or tiramisu.
6. "Conclave" film about electing/selecting a Pope. Dan and I saw it on opening night of the  Montclair Film Festival. Very well done. The acting (Ralph Fiennes, Isabella Rossellini, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow) is superb as are the settings and secret rituals of selecting a Pope. Director Edward Berger was there at the Wellmont Theater and took questions afterward.
7. The New Yorker Festival. Drove into NYC with my friend Anne to see New Yorker Magazine editor David Remnick interview Rachel Maddow.
8. The cold opening of SNL last night, Saturday, November 2, with Maya Rudolph and the real Kamala Harris. (Thank you, Nan, for texting link.)
9. A hike in the Stamford arboretum woods with Sis and Galena.
10. Walks around our block and in Anderson Park and Edgemont Park.
11. Tea nightcap at Figgy's apartment the other night.
12. Dinner in a Dumont tavern with Moey and Tish.
13. "Godzilla" movie. Newest version, made by Japanese writer and director Takashi Yamazaki. 
14. Ina Garten's memoir.
15. Seeing my friend Rachy for late breakfast, another thing that's been put off for months.
16. Work clients, including two new ones. I'm grateful.

I just realized many of these are Italian--numbers 1, 3, 5 and 6. And 12 is famous for its pizza.

*Dan gave my friend Eileen the "young MTM" nickname decades ago, before she was married, when we went to a party she hosted in Weehawken in her pretty little Mary Tyler Moore-style apartment with a view of NYC's sparkling skyline across the river.

Prom Countdown

"Lucy and Ethel Buy the Same Dress" episode photo from "I Love Lucy." I doubt that will happen to Punchy but you never know! 

Punchy, 17, is going to Romeo's senior prom in Wayne this evening. I'm not allowed to post a photo of her in the dress yet. She tried it on twice. I guess you don't post the dress ahead of time now, at least in her case.

Mimi (her dad's mom) is driving up after work, for a photo window. Figgy plans to come after work, too.

It feels like a scaled-down wedding--by that I mean a focused and happy event, Dan and I coordinating car time to rush Punch to hair and nail appointments, purse shopping, the young man getting a jacket, etc., and that is good. We have ridden the crashing waves of many scary or sad moments in Punch's life sea but this is a joyous, "normal" one. I hope she and Romeo surf smoothly. Yet of course, I still worry--about after parties, alcohol, driving. I have already and will again address the matter with both teens involved.

The fancy manicure, two-tone with little rhinestones, was carefully crafted by a nail artist in her pretty at-home salon yesterday. (It took over two hours. Mimi funded it.) It's 12:22 and Dan is on a dash with Punch to CVS for silver hoop earrings and fake lashes, plus a purse at the mall. Starting at 1 p.m., pedicure, brow tint, hair trim and styling. She has to shower before all that. After hair, time for Punch to do her makeup.

Everyone is different. And while Punchy has a sharp, astute brain, she doesn't overexercise it for school. She is a capable athlete, but I have to twist her arm mostly to get her to the Y for a class or to the gymnastics place for an open tumbling session. But Punchy is a master at makeup. In a good way. Honestly, she is.

The nails....they are superlong, a trend these days. The family member who really digs them is our cat, Nina, whose green eyes dance and spin like saucers at the sparkly little jewels on teen queen's talons.

We picked up the pretty dress and shoes Tuesday after school. We did layaway at David's Bridal in Paramus, where Romeo's glamorous young mom has had a big position for years. She was very helpful, gracious and knowledgeable. As in, just the right shoes, black satin platform sandals with rhinestone buckles, which I wasn't inititally drawn to but love now. 

I have to go check my work emails. Hope to report back later.

Rejected, Ejected

Vintage black-tie image from Gentlemansgazette.com. Here is the link. 

It happened three nights ago, Wednesday, May 15 at a famous 14K gold hotel in New York City.

I will not wield a poison pen (or tap poison keystrokes) to write this, though I did feel hurt and vengeful in the moment.

I had received a media invite (an email, typical these days) to attend a black-tie charity dinner for a women's/family cause. I mulled it over. I don't have a black-tie wardrobe, or a shoe and handbag closet to pluck from.

The cause was important. I wasn't sure how I got on the invite chain, but I thought it might be related to a recent event I attended and wrote about. I RSVP'd yes.

I got my hair blown out. I asked Debbie to spray it hard so it would hold, especially on that damp day. I don't have an evening gown, but thought that would be okay, that the long list of media outlets I had seen on the invite would not all present in black-tie. I wore a pretty maxi dress, my very good vintage Kenneth Jay Lane earrings--the ones I'm wearing in my blog profile photo--and a cocktail ring, aquamarine set in gold prongs, from an antique shop on the coast of Maine. (I often wonder who owned it, and when. Did her husband present it? It makes a statement.) I booked a spot in a parking garage using SpotHero, and drove with my wipers on through congested traffic. I had a new Lilly Pulitzer notepad in my bag.

I was turned away.

Alice, go with her, the person in charge said loudly. "Her" was the young woman checking media names at the door. She had already combed and recombed the list and couldn't find me, then walked me over to see the woman in charge, who was standing among people in evening wear. Photos were being taken.

Did I mention that I had already met that person once, at a chic Soho shop event pre-Covid? As I recall, she held the reins pretty tight that time, too.

Was I an interloper, or a person who had been invited?

Next thing I knew, a man in black tie with eyeglasses appeared, and like a bad scene from "The Devil Wears Prada," he ushered me to the elevator, pushed the glowing button and waited to watch me descend, as though I would put up a fight or make a scene.

I have the media invite, I said, showing him my iPhone.

I'm sorry, we can't accommodate you. 

That's ridiculous. 

We sent out an email last night to let people know who made the list.

Well, I didn't get an email. And did you send one out to people who didn't make the list, too? That would be important. I drove all the way in from Montclair New Jersey.

I'm sorry we can't accommodate you.

That's too bad. It sounds like a good cause.

They all are.

This is outrageous. And as the doors closed, Please take me off your list.

Rejected. Ejected. Back to the coat check.

You're leaving? said the handsome black attendant. He and his co-worker, a white woman, had been the only two friendly people I'd met. Isn't it often that way? They had made me feel welcome.

Yeah.

He handed me my cardigan sweater and umbrella.

------------------------------------------------------

I thought, and maybe still do, they were not letting me in because of my dress, shoes, blowout (even with my hairspray helmet!), weight or age. They could see all that but they could not see my carefully acquired toolbox of words, the way my pen glides and flows, taking notes in my own shorthand, the details I drink in and capture, the colorful story I can tell and make come alive. They could not see my gift for connecting with people from many walks of life.

It wasn't until I checked on my cell phone later that I did indeed find an email, which had been sent out at about midnight the night before, saying I was not now on the list to attend.

So Tuxedo had not been lying about that.

So the email had gone out before they had seen me, before my dress and shoes had not been enough. Before I appeared with some frown lines, no Botox. Before they saw me but did not see my brain and heart.

---------------------------------------

It still felt bad. I had prepaid for parking (until 11 p.m.!), so I wandered around alone in my maxi dress with my Totes umbrella, up and down 57th Street. Past Bergdorf's, closed for the evening but its stylish windows (featuring a Marc Jacobs jeweled dress) always open. By the now shuttered restaurant, Mangia, that we editors used to love, past Carnegie Hall, where Dan took me to see Judy Collins when we were expecting Figgy. Then 224 West 57th Street, the old Hearst building, the gilded birdcage that housed Cosmopolitan. The Great American Health Bar, a holdout for carrot cake and soup, opened decades ago. An Italian restaurant. The Brooklyn Diner. 

As a I walked west, the tall towers ahead were half wrapped in mist. Gauzy skirts. 

It's still my city, I thought. Still the city I love, and no one can take that away from me.

I walked to Nordstrom, pot of gold at the end of my path, conveniently open til 9 p.m. with its convenient Prada Beauty alcove on the first floor that would take me in with open arms, not turn me away. I had read about Prada lipstick in WWD. (The gift guide drew me in with "We’re partial to the B105 shade for its modern take on the ’90s-inspired brown lipstick look.") 

I wanted to try it, but it's hard to choose a lip or cheek color online. Here was my chance to get a hands-on consultation. Ivan came through. He's right, the Prada Balm in the brand's signature mint green is cushiony and soft, addictive on its own or under the lipstick. (It does not go on green.) And he found a top color for me. Tonka. I love it. It brings out my eyes. And it's refillable so I don't have to add to the beauty landfill quite so much.

I then had a ridiculously overpriced yet somehow skimpy corned beef reuben on rye in a diner, for dinner, served with a tiny pleated paper cup of very good coleslaw and a rubbery pickle spear. No fries, but I didn't want the side salad on the plate. I stared down the cheesecakes and chocolate cakes taking star turns in a lit carousel by the entrance. I did succumb later to a crumb cake square from a deli. Then I headed back home, the lights of my glittery city in the rearview mirror.

At least, I thought, I turned a lost opportunity into a beauty win. And I do feel good about that. Now I just have to practice enough self-care to consistently build in time for makeup, because I look and feel better, younger and more confident when I wear it. The Tonka lipstick, yes.

P.S. When Dan heard what happened, he was upset. He told me I should call the people the next morning and complain. I know Dan, and I know he likes to stand up for me. I appreciate his loyalty. It touched me when I was fired from a magazine as a young writer. When the editor's name came up in conversation for a while, he would say Grrrrr, like a dog about to bite. But I can stand up for myself. For that reason, I won't tell him any details, like the name of the people or the charitable cause. 

P.P.S. Monday, 12:45 p.m. I just had my weekly telehealth therapy appointment with my wise therapist. It may have been brought to my attention by the end that: a. They had a strict limit on people; b. I hadn't checked my email to look for one from them before driving into the city; c. They have professional skills, but maybe kindness is not top of mind; and d. I internalized what happened and allowed myself to feel bad about it. Yes.

Fashion Fun: Meeting Hadley Pollet

Hadley Pollet and me. Note my new large navy makeup bag, 

which I had been eyeing on the website. It matches my denim dress.

In 2007, Dan and I did group training sessions to be foster parents, in our quest to add a second baby permanently to our family (hello, Punch in lavender fleece onesie, though a year later, your living situation would change and be on a long pause for years, years that affected hearts and souls). 

Our classes were taught by a mother-daughter pair, two pretty blondes from a nice pocket of New Jersey.

When I'm a student, I spend a lot of time studying my teacher's outfits. What else is there to look at in a state-mandated class? Back in high school, I studied my English teacher's nude pantyhose and ladylike heels, a male teacher's tweed blazers and gum-soled shoes. My college professors in Women's Studies varied, from scary well-known feminist (scary as in brisk and unfriendly, wearing business attire) to hippie from New York City, with long flowing hair and chunky, arty jewelry. 

The daughter in this mother-daughter pair of foster parenting teachers had a belt I loved. She was slim and wore it with her blue jeans. It had a tortoise tone buckle. I complimented her on it one week and then another. Finally, she said, "It's expensive, but you have to remember it's reversible, so it's like getting two belts for the price." I got a bee in my bonnet. I love feminine, and retro feminine, accessories. The floral patterns were just so pretty. Beautiful art as eye candy. I wanted one. The teacher told me they were made by a young woman named Hadley Pollet, and I started internet sleuthing.

I ordered a belt from the website (my waist was smaller then, but I hope to get back to that beauty, can't now close the size XL); a makeup bag with ribbon trim; a size XL top with rows of pretty ribbon forming fluted cuffs; a ribbon headband; a leopard print clutch; and fell in love in person with a large pink travel tote with brown ribbon trim at Thread, a Montclair boutique. That tote went on every road trip with me and even plane trips, until Sis got me a carry-on with wheels, far more practical at an airport than a heavy shoulder tote. I still love that tote. Then, on sale in 2018 with free shipping, the Pink Flutter Top (XL). Take a look. It's that gorgeous ribbon on the hem that I could not resist. I looked at it, looked away, looked back again.

I wore the Flutter Top with an open pink cardigan sweater over it in 

Palm Beach. (Link to photo here.)

But now that it’s getting hot, I will experiment a little. That ribbon against the black!!!

Thursday night, Sis and I met Hadley Pollet at an evening wine and hors d'oeuvres event in Greenwich, Connecticut, where the designer debuted her home line (pillows, table linens, lovely, especially the former). We enjoyed passed nibbles at The Country Table: Pea soup shooters with chile oil; fried chicken bites with housemade ranch dressing; prosciutto-wrapped asparagus; and stacked, squared "grown-up grilled cheese." Each waitress had a lemon half on the serving tray, for guests to put the toothpicks in after use. 

It was eye-opening, the pops of color, the flowers spilling over, the well-dressed, toned women and men, the lustrous gold leather on some purses, the always alluring belts, especially a pink plaid floral that reminded me of a 1950s picnic dress.

Hadley was warm and friendly and fun. Sis left with a peek-a-boo clutch she purchased and I bought a large navy makeup bag, so crisp and pretty. The company is women-run and supports causes for women and girls.

A note about how it all began, according to the Hadley website:

Hadley’s original signature belt designs sprung from inspiration while at Rhode Island School of Design. Her unique style caught the eyes of many when she wore a belt made of vintage ribbon and a tortoise buckle to a birthday party in Boston where several people asked where she got her belt. And with the blink of an eye, she started her business and never looked back. Since then, her line has expanded into a lifestyle brand for high-spirited, powerful women.

And here's a notice from the NY Times in 2002.

I'm happy Sis and I went! Good night.

The abundant flowers.

A former Hadley employee with a ribbon belt 

tied to the shoulder strap of her dress.

Sis surveying the event. She enjoyed it.

Good night to you.

10 Steps Out of the Sinking Marsh

I can wallow in being overwhelmed and discouraged today with the course of events in this household at this moment but instead I will choose to dot i's and cross t's on my work assignments and:

1. Reread the beginning of "Miriam" (1945) to note the narrator in a tale by talented Truman Capote and start, once again, crafting a short story of my own. (I published a story in Good Housekeeping as a newlywed.) Type and think and click and capture, save it in a folder named SHORT STORY AS OF APRIL 2024 on my MacBook desktop. Begin to polish my pearl, my goal: To do my best to transport you, and me, to another place and time. Done.
2. Think about "A Room of One's Own" (1929), the extended essay by Virginia Woolf and be grateful for the time and space and paying assignments I have. Be thankful for my proficiency and skill set, for a room to claim (two, counting the dining room). "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." Done.
3. Be grateful for my health--and my sister's health on her 70th birthday today. Done.
4. Look forward to sharing in the gift she wants most for her birthday--to go the Turtle Back Zoo tomorrow with the girls, see the lions and feed lettuce to the giraffes. You will recall she went on an African safari, a lifelong dream. Done.
5. Plan healthy meals for today. Start with breakfast.
6. Walk to the Post Office to return a package on this sunny day.
7. Start looking into cars we can buy.
8. Shampoo with lovely, lavender-tinted Love shampoo from Davines. Special-occasion suds.
9. Water my candy-cane-striped dahlias. 
10. Pray. For acceptance, for hope, for faith, for guidance under angel wings, for compassion (for myself and others), for love.

Restorative Yoga at Night, with Dream Oil

This oil smells so lovely and the makers say it helps us dream better.

I went to my restorative yoga class tonight, led by lovely Krystal at Yoga Mechanics on Forest Street. It was relaxing, the music was beautiful, my body was at rest, I put my stress down. I was restored.

One of my favorite parts is when Krystal goes around the room at the end when we are in Shavasana, the final resting pose on the floor ("corpse pose"), and dabs a little dream anointing oil on us. 

"If you want the oil, put your hands by your side. If you put your hands on your belly, I will know you don't want it," she says.

As she put a few precious drops of the intoxicating, fragrant oil in my right palm, she said, "Alice, the world is lucky to have you." So life-affirming and touching. She does that for everyone. "Bernadette, the world is lucky to have you," and so on.

The yoga studio sells some magical products from Dolly Moo, a brand run by two sisters whose retail home base is in an adorable little shop in town. Yoga Mechanics is getting the dream oil this week. But I already purchased a bottle* a few weeks ago. I love the fragrance, made from a blend of flowers.

What I have to learn, though, is how to be better organized about dinner when I take a late class like this. I got home about 8:50 p.m., and there was continued family drama, and I grabbed some foods I had not planned to eat. I'm grateful that I see that and that I intend to strategize. 

Good night.

*The bottle is small, and has a roll-on top. I want to see if I can remove that top, because I don't get enough of the oil with it.

Sniffapalooza Strikes Again

Today's brand also sells a Perfume Gun, packaged in what looks like a cleaning spray bottle.

We might be wine buffs, swirling reds and whites in balloon glasses and comparing notes, then perhaps buying an expensive bottle or three. Or cacao connoisseurs, nibbling on squares of midnight dark bars and barks to access smoothness, depth of flavor, how the texture melts on the tongue.  

But we are fragrance fans/followers/enthusiasts/collectors, and we follow the noses of Karen Dubin and Karen Adams of Sniffapalooza, founded in NYC by the first Karen in 2002. We sniff and spritz to our hearts' content.

This time, Sis (my sister, MaryAnne, from Connecticut) and I trekked into the Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle Boutique on Madison Avenue at 72nd Street, not far from Ralph Lauren. The intimate space was packed with at least 40 people for an 11 a.m. start. Men and women in Burberry, good shoes and cool eyeglasses. A pretty redhead in a long Barbie-pink gown. Asian, White, Black perfume and overall style lovers. Young people just starting out, taking notes on an iPad, and older people, like me, who slipped out of my pumps and into my comfy sneakers after the event. Girlfriends telling each other their birthdays were coming up, so maybe they could gift themselves. Fragrance fans who knew to lift the glass dome off a scented candle and smell the dome. (Still an amateur, I had lifted the wax candle to my nose.)

A chic boutique staffer in all black, Gilda Atlan-Perez, offered a large tray of mimosas in slender flutes, then a platter of small pastries and mini muffins.  

"Don't be shy," she said as she moved around the room. It was, after all, Sunday brunch time.

When I said no thank you, Gilda said, "You don't drink champagne? You're not French, huh?"

We laughed. But she surely was French, presumably Parisian. Refreshingly over 50, slim and beautiful, not too tall. Black pantsuit, impeccable black suede booties with low heels and squared gold buckles, cleanly filed nails polished red, large pearl button earrings, black hair swept back off the face and slightly flipped at the bottom. Gilda was charming. And her eyes and the soft skin around them had depth, the depth that comes from living life.

Why the party (which Sniffapalooza charged $20 to attend)? Frédéric Malle, the Frenchman who famously started out at Barneys New York, is unveiling a new fragrance on April 17: Acne Studios par Frédéric Malle. 

Acne Studios is a Stockholm-based fashion house known for its distressed denim, footwear, wool scarves and more. (The acronym initially stood for Associated Computer Nerd Enterprises. Later a backronym was announced: Ambition to Create Novel Expressions.) This new fragrance joins Malle's Portrait of a Lady, Lipstick Rose, Carnal Flower and others released in collaboration with famous noses. 

A young perfumer, Suzy Le Helley, 32, and Acne's Jonny Johansson are behind the new "clean laundry" layered scent. 

The buildup was brisk. "I will take just a few minutes of your time and then we are going to smell it," said perfume and education advisor Josh Mayhew, who led today's masterclass. He and Gilda passed around white cards spritzed with the scent. We waved them and inhaled. Josh asked the audience to call out words to describe it.

Layered, soft, sweet, musk, powdery, floral, soapy, clean, the people said. Sis and I really liked it. It smelled really good. I noticed layers of fragrance right away, not just one or two pronounced notes. In an instant, I imagined myself wearing it, smelling fresh and delicious, and confident about that, and thinking that other people would notice my clean, lovely scent. It could become my signature.

Then Josh let the cat out of the bag. "It's rose, violet and orange blossom with peach and incense, all resting on top of a white musk base. It smells like fresh clothing, fresh linen, fresh clean garments but with a French twist, a floral from another time."

"We all own a lot of perfumes, all of us," said Sniffapalooza co-founder Karen Dubin after Josh's presentation. But she didn't talk long, because she and everyone else wanted to dash off and smell the hair mist, the body butter and rubber incense. The boutique extended a 15 percent discount to us ("unheard of," they said, because fragrances don't go on sale), and everyone received a parting gift, an elegant rubber incense disc to hang in a closet or cupboard and three fragrance samples. We carried our loot out in the brand's small orange shopping bag.

Since a 50 ml bottle of perfume spray costs $295 here, it is not in my immediate future. (Sis always loves irises, in both real flower and bottled fragrance form, so I had scoped out the Iris Hand Cream* last night and she bought a small tube.) But I love a good glimpse of beautiful people and a beautiful scent on a Palm Sunday morning in New York. 

FYI, here is Vogue's report on the Acne Studios perfume launch.

*From the website:

Frédéric Malle was inspired by the history of iris as precious perfume for the gloves and hands of the Medici family. 

Its subtle, silky texture was harnessed by Olivia Giacobetti with musk and cedar to produce a clean, soft scent, combined with the perfect textural balance: shea butter, vitamin C and lemon tree honey make for a rich, nourishing cream that absorbs instantly, to fully hydrate your skin. 

A $277 Spend But Kept My Eye on the Ball at Whole Foods Market

I did not get a lipstick this time, which saved me about $19 plus tax. Often, I am drawn to the beauty case to buy one....I think it has to do with NOT getting sweets and treats. It is a beauty treat. And the colors (Charming is shown here) are alluring. Photo link from here.

At Whole Foods the other day, I did not waste much money. I still did spend a lot, but these days, groceries seem quite high. We stick mostly to ShopRite for better prices, but I had gotten a writing paycheck and stocked up on (mostly) healthy things, including:

• 1 pack Bell & Evans chicken cutlets (sale*)
• 2 packs ground beef
• 1.5 lb. Alaskan salmon fillet (sale)
• pack of 5 rainbow peppers
• corn tortillas
• everything bagel seasoning
• baby spinach
• pint of heavy cream
• romaine lettuce
• box Annie’s mac and cheese
• Back to Nature woven wheat crackers
• 2 bags excellent organic ground Guatemalan medium roast coffee (Whole Foods brand, one caramel and one mocha). This is good because I have been making my own coffee so much of the time now and spending less on cups of coffee in places other than my home. The cream and organic milk go with this.
• potatoes
• organic blueberries
• 5 nice ripe mangos on sale, for Punchy to eat as is or make smoothies
• bananas 
• a “slicer” tomato
• Parmigiano-Reggiano (big-ticket item)
• Immaculate Baking Company biscuits for young one to bake (I realize now that I could have gotten refrigerated biscuits way cheaper at ShopRite)
• pound of butter
• bottle of Thai peanut coconut sauce 
• gallon of delicious Whole Foods brand organic whole milk ($6.99. Dan gets nonorganic milk at a much lower price at ShopRite but this is so creamy and good)
• 2 frozen pizzas on sale, one with vegs and one with prosciutto (both pies made in Italy!?)
• orange juice, no pulp, four-pack of small bottles
• box of pasta
• jar of pasta sauce
• Spanish rice
• bag of Bob’s Red Mill organic polenta
• refrigerated anchovies (I sometimes want to put them on pizza)
• Honey Nut Cheerios (I see that I could have paid far less for this at ShopRite)
• A single LA FERMIÈRE French yogurt (pressed lemon), true treat in little blue pottery pot
• Calabro ricotta
• Vermont Creamery mascarpone (on sale)
• Amy’s veg burgers
• Frozen pretzel bites
• 2 Nounos glass jar baby yogurts

*When you scan your Amazon Prime in-store code, you get an additional 10 percent off sale items, so I look for sale items.

THE BIG SPEND ALSO INCLUDED THESE EXTRAS:

• A box of six “clean” burning fire logs ($27.99)
• Mini no sugar added/soy ice cream pops on sale
• 2 mini Junior’s no sugar added Little Fella cheesecakes, one for Dan and one for me (pricey, $4.29 each)
• Can of Bon Ami cleanser
• Method bathroom cleaner spray
• Pacifica makeup wipes for Punch (on sale)
• Tom’s of Maine toothpaste (sale)
• Birthday card for Meggy

WHAT I DID NOT GET:

• A tube of lipstick in the beauty aisle, a pop of pretty color. I toyed with it, looked at a few shades, thought of how they would look good. Considered the names, tempted. Pictured myself wearing the lipstick when I come shopping next time, with a skirt. But the thought occurred to me, “You have a lot of lipsticks at home to use up.” I paused long enough, I guess, to listen and hear. Perhaps next time, as this Mineral Fusion formula is stylish and flattering.
• Fancy Hu dark chocolate bar, low sugar but v expensive per ounce
• Cookies
• Good-looking cakes
• Pricey pure vanilla extract ($22 plus for smallish bottle)
• Sushi
• Prepared fruit salad--had it in my cart but with the mangos and blueberries, knew I could do without.
• The Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day (what a great name) scented soy candle in jar. The Honeysuckle smells so good and I knew it would give me and my family and my house a lift, but about $15? plus tax.

So I think all in all, I did okay. I’m curious if other people make close budgets and lists and resist splurges, trigger items at the supermarket? I always remember my friend young MTM posting on my blog that when she goes to Whole Foods, she doesn’t even get a basket or a cart, just the salmon, which she considers so good. She puts on blinders to get to the seafood counter.

As Seen in Montclair

Pre-owned, vintage white gold and mother-of-pearl Alhambra necklace from Van Cleef & Arpels, sold on Farfetch.com now for $3,290.

This is Montclair. Hence, I’ve seen some well-heeled style in the 31 years since Dan and I first moved into an old Bellevue Avenue apartment here with plaster walls, golden sconces, a butler’s pantry and black-and-white tile bathroom after our honeymoon.

The township is not homogeneous, no whole-milk Madison Avenue. Montclair prides itself on being inclusive. We have Grey Poupon mansions with groundskeepers and crowded apartments, polished parks with ponds and grassy patches worn down by teens with nowhere else to go. We don’t have just white skin, but all rich colors and all gender identities. 

It’s the style watch I’ve kept as we moved along, saving money to drive our possessions across town from apartment to small house, living as writers, putting our girls through the public schools. It’s this home base where I take in fashion, where I first saw a man wearing a pink oxford shirt with jeans and good brown leather shoes without socks. (I saw him often, and came to believe he had a trust fund.) 

Sure, I’ve peeked into the Van Cleef & Arpels shop, a hushed church of jewelry ensconced in Bergdorf Goodman on Fifth Avenue, musing about how it would be to have an income (mine or someone else’s) to cover a piece of that. But here in Montclair, I have seen the jewelry up close, resting just so against the tanned collarbones of beautiful women. 

On Friday, after my doctor’s appointment, I stopped at Van Hook, where the well-cheesed fill their baskets with select wedges, Norwegian crackers, ceramic Brie bakers, and pints of heavy cream from a farm. Then I walked around the corner to Jones Road, Bobbi Brown’s flagship makeup store. (Did I tell you I once saw Bobbi in the Kings produce aisle?) Due to Covid, the shop limits customers to six at a time. 

I waited 15 minutes in the sun and got to know the women in front of and behind me. Both were warm and friendly. We all had kids in school, and were happy to have a small pocket of time to beauty shop. We chatted as only fans can when bonding to get our hands on Bobbi’s cult line.

Ahead of me, the pretty, slim-hipped blonde wore penny loafers (penny loafers!), with her jeans, perfect for back-to-school week. She said the shiny copper pennies are remembrances of her two high school children--a penny in each shoe, with the appropriate birth year. She wore Van Cleef & Arpels necklace and earrings from the venerable Paris jeweler. I had a chance to study the iconic Alhambra charms and start to grow a love for those flowers, between drinking paper cups of lemon water from the mason jar outside Jones Road.

Behind me was a mother of three kids who, like me, said she often ran around with no makeup on and wanted to change that, maybe with Bobbi’s Miracle Balm, which comes in different glowy shades. 

Both shoppers were from nearby towns, not Montclair. But here is where I’ve plumped up my style file. This is where I first saw:

*Hermès jewelry, favored by fashionable Holly, owner of a clothing shop on Valley Road.

*Tory Burch flats, in the former Tory Janes store, which I still miss.

*Luxury linens and Santa Maria Novella shampoo from Florence. The shopowner brought it back in her suitcase. It was expensive even back in the nineties but I swear I had a great hair day whenever I used it. 

*Even elite boutique chocolate, from Mariebelle bars in Susan's dark-chocolate shop with a narrow winding staircase to Basque Cheesecake (made by Julia at Vesta Chocolate) with whipped ganache and caramel.

Style is beauty, comfort, art. Earrings that catch  the light when they swing. Fun coats that make a dark winter day better.  Cakes that stir up conversations. Mothers who share everyday fashion talk on a line outside a shop.

I do love Montclair, whether or not, at the moment, my heels are worn low and I need a new pair.

Movie Baby Food for the Soul--from 1961 and 1962 🎥 🍿

I was so tired Friday evening, after running Skippy around to appointments and obligations (gymnastics, home instructor four days a week for two hours each time, doctor appointment in pouring rain, CVS Rx pickup, soccer practice, orthodontist). Plus my own doctor check-up, which I didn’t relish, since I haven’t been taking such good care of myself. Dan and I share the daily morning and afternoon driving, on top of that.

I know a million parents do a million good things for their children and don’t get exhausted, but I do. I hope that changes as I take better care of me. I thought the Miracle Balm I bought at Jones Road Beauty (Bobbi Brown’s flagship store in Montclair) might energize me, but I was too tired to put it on until this morning.

I had the living room and our one TV to myself both Friday and Saturday night. This was the nursery food I chose:

The Parent Trap from 1961, starring Maureen O’Hara, Brian Keith--and Hayley Mills playing the twins. It came out the year I was born. I loved seeing what was happening in the world and on the big screen, though I know what I saw was WAY above my parents’ level of comfort living. This story involves a beautiful ranch in Monterey with horses, a ranch hand, a mission style home and modern furniture--and, for the other twin, a high-society life in Boston. You see housekeepers, a chauffeur, girls’ sleepaway summer camp. That was not in the cards at 187 Bedford Road in Dumont. I didn’t feel deprived, not really, but seeing this was such fluff and fun. And the fashions, oh, the fashions.

Joanna Barnes as Vicky, the gorgeous gold digger who wants to marry Sharon's and Susan’s handsome Dad--before they intervene. Oh, Barnes plays this role deliciously. Best treasure: In the 1998 "Parent Trap" remake, with Lindsey Lohan, Barnes returns to play the gold digger’s mother. 

Sharon and Susan. Or is it Susan and Sharon? Even their parents can’t tell them apart.

Beautiful Maureen O’Hara--the chemistry is good with Brian Keith. My Dad and I loved watching "Miracle on 34th Street" with O’Hara every Christmas season, so I thought of him a lot.

That Touch of Mink, 1962, starring Cary Grant and Doris Day. Omigosh, omigosh. Again with the fashions, the hair, the Automat, the men’s office empire, the trips to Bermuda. The home decor. AND this swinging, wealthy bachelor lets secretary Cathy Timberlake (Doris Day) go to Bergdorf Goodman and pick out whatever she wants, from a sexy black evening gown (in 1962!) to a mink coat. I love that one of the closing credits thanks "Bergdorf Goodman for being Bergdorf Goodman."

Also stars Audrey Meadows (Mrs. Ralph Kramden) as Cathy’s roommate Connie, who works in the Automat. That setting brings on all kinds of funny lunch jokes from behind the little glass doors. I thought of my parents bringing us to the Automat when it was closing (and probably before that).

Cary Grant at his wittiest and most attractive.

Bermuda in all its glory, from a horse-drawn carriage to a private apartment with a view of coral sand beaches . Did I tell you my mother won a trip to Bermuda when I was in fifth grade? She and Dad went. So I thought of them there, too.

The worst thing about watching "Mink" is that it was playing on some odd network and there were SO MANY DARN commercials. Now I see I could have watched it on Amazon Prime?! Honestly, I practically memorized the commercials for an online casino and for a drug that might help prevent HIV. I know the latter is vital but the ads were repeated SO MANY times. So the movie wasn’t really free--I paid with my mind space, infiltrated with those ad messages.

Anyway, those were two great movies. Good night to you. I will be joining The Neon Tea Party Crochet Camp on Zoom at 8:15 p.m. Making a sweater, lots of fun.

Don’t Throw out the Mama with the Bathwater

Above: I bought a pretty Bath Bubbler, made with raw honey, from the honey man at the Montclair Farmers' Market and stashed it in my tote like a hungry person might hide a crisp, fresh apple for the right moment. Now, the time has come. (Product link HERE*.}

Remember when we had young babies, little girls or boys?

Recall bath time, when Night’s dark curtain fell, and we rounded up the young one(s), filled the tub, added bubbles and bath toys? I always put on Simon & Garfunkel, Loggins and Messina ("House at Pooh Corner"), John Denver or Cat Stevens...on cassette tapes...Figgy was born in 1995. I do believe that music--those notes, the words--is embedded in her soul, and certainly in mine.

Tonight it’s only 7:58, but I’m about to run the tub and take a bath and read stories to myself in bed after that (or do the NY Times Spelling Bee game on my iPhone).

Just because we grown-ups are no longer mothered/fathered with bubble baths and storytime does not mean we cannot gift that ritual to ourselves.

Good night.

*Note at 9:48 p.m. I chose Rose/Fennel. Very pleasant and clean-smelling but doesn’t bubble, despite the name, FYI. Bath bombs generally do not; hence, the common name bath fizzy.