The airline lost my luggage, and my signature scent with it. Somehow it became the best week of my life.
It was a big trip, and I wanted to feel my best for it, so I packed my scent first, before anything else. But as I waited at the carousel, a bad feeling began to churn while nothing of mine arrived.
The first thing I thought of was my signature scent. It's the thing I used to be known for, and without it I felt oddly unfinished, like you've left the house without your keys.
So I bought the first thing I could find, a bottle from a newsstand with notes similar to my signature, or so the label promised. But when I opened it, it was something else entirely. It must have been mislabelled. Lavender, loud and cheerful and nothing like me.
I wore it all week because I had nothing else, and that week turned out to be one of the best of my life.
Now lavender ambushes me, in a candle or a garden or a hand cream on a stranger, and I'm back there instantly. The wrong bottle did what my right one never has. It became a memory.
Six oils, eight combinations, and a signature that's yours alone.
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