I followed a stranger's perfume round the shop. Somewhere between the bread and the fridges, something stopped me. An old favourite I hadn't come across in years, and a question: do I ask?
I popped into the local shop to get dinner. Nothing special. A normal weeknight.
Somewhere between the bread and the fridges, something stopped me. A smell I knew. An old favourite I hadn't come across in years.
At least I thought so. Your nose knows before you do.
So I did what any reasonable adult would do. I turned round and walked back past the spot where I thought it had come from. There it was again. Definitely familiar. But there were a few people about, and I couldn't tell which of them was wearing it.
Then came the question. Do I ask?
Asking a stranger what they're wearing is an odd thing to do over a basket of shopping. It's even odder in Britain. We don't talk to strangers in shops. We apologise to them.
But nobody wears something like that by accident. Whoever it was had good taste. They took pride in how they smelled. And I wanted them to feel as good as they'd just made me feel.
I walked past a few more times. My dinner got the full tour. Eventually the courage turned up, just before I ran out of reasons to be in that aisle.
So I asked. I was right. It was my old favourite. I felt unreasonably pleased with myself.
We ended up talking for ages. What they wore, what I wore, what we should each try next. We swapped recommendations like people who'd known each other for years, not minutes. I left with a few new names saved in my phone. And my dinner, eventually.
I nearly didn't say anything. I'm really glad I did.
Most of us put on something we love in the morning and hardly anyone ever mentions it. So if a smell stops you in the aisle, say something. It might make their day. It made mine.