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On my childhood bedroom desk in Tahoe lies a small glass bottle, brimming with memories. Inside? Chanel No. 5, the cherished scent of my grandmother, Neenie, who guided me in the art of letter writing.
Strategically distanced, I indulge in its fragrance only sparingly. Its abode in Tahoe, away from my perfume collection in Seattle, safeguards the purity of these memories.
Each encounter with its scent is akin to unlocking a time capsule, flooding me with recollections of days long past. I can almost hear Neenie's laughter, feel the warmth of her Christmas hugs, and taste those cheeky nibbles of blue cheese pilfered from her salad plate It's as if I'm right back there, sitting on her lap, causing mischief and making memories all over again.
But the power of scent extends beyond mere nostalgia; it has the ability to shape our experiences in profound ways. This is something I discovered when I began scenting my letters. Scent makes me feel more relaxed and present. Sometimes I use a smoky wood scent. Other times, I go full Fragonard floral.
Scenting letters also allows us to shape an experience for the recipient too. I'm notoriously bad at remembering which scents I've used for letters. I rely on intuition, sampling various perfumes to evoke the essence of the person I'm writing to. It's an intuitive process, one that adds an extra layer of personal connection to my correspondence.
To help you incorporate scent into your letter writing practice, I filmed this short tutorial. You'll learn the best ways to scent your letters, whether using perfume, essential oils or incense.
Featured Wax Color: Provence
“Perfume is the most intense form of memory.
— Jean Paul Guerlain
Step into a world of natural beauty and serenity with Provence, a delightful lavender-colored sealing wax infused with the soothing fragrance of lavender oil from the picturesque region of Provence in the south of France. Named after this iconic locale renowned for its sprawling lavender fields, Provence wax encapsulates the essence of Provence's charm and tranquility in every seal.
As you apply this exquisite wax to your letters, the scent of lavender fills the air, evoking memories of sun-drenched fields and gentle breezes. While the fragrance may dissipate as the wax cools, the experience of using Provence wax to seal your correspondence is truly unforgettable.
Love Birds at Fountain
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This antique wax seal captures a timeless scene of two lovebirds perched atop a fountain, with delicate forget-me-not flowers blooming in the background. Each element of this exquisite design holds profound symbolism and invites a myriad of interpretations.
The image of two lovebirds, often depicted as affectionate partners, symbolizes love, devotion, and companionship. Their presence atop a fountain evokes a sense of serenity and renewal, as fountains are often associated with purity and the flow of life-giving water. The gentle flow of water from the fountain may symbolize the passage of time or the continuous renewal of love and commitment.
Surrounding the scene are forget-me-not flowers, which carry their own symbolic significance. Forget-me-nots are often associated with remembrance, fidelity, and everlasting love. Their presence in the background of this seal adds depth to its meaning, suggesting a desire for enduring love and a commitment to remember and cherish cherished moments.
Nostalgia by Billy Collins
You always wore brown, the color craze of the decade,
and I was draped in one of those capes that were popular,
the ones with unicorns and pomegranates in needlework.
Everyone would pause for beer and onions in the afternoon,
and at night we would play a game called “Find the Cow.”
Everything was hand-lettered then, not like today.
Where has the summer of 1572 gone? Brocade and sonnet
marathons were the rage. We used to dress up in the flags
of rival baronies and conquer one another in cold rooms of stone.
Out on the dance floor we were all doing the Struggle
while your sister practiced the Daphne all alone in her room.
We borrowed the jargon of farriers for our slang.
These days language seems transparent, a badly broken code.
The 1790s will never come again. Childhood was big.
People would take walks to the very tops of hills
and write down what they saw in their journals without speaking.
Our collars were high and our hats were extremely soft.
We would surprise each other with alphabets made of twigs.
It was a wonderful time to be alive, or even dead.
I am very fond of the period between 1815 and 1821.
Europe trembled while we sat still for our portraits.
And I would love to return to 1901 if only for a moment,
time enough to wind up a music box and do a few dance steps,
or shoot me back to 1922 or 1941, or at least let me
recapture the serenity of last month when we picked
berries and glided through afternoons in a canoe.
Even this morning would be an improvement over the present.
I was in the garden then, surrounded by the hum of bees
and the Latin names of flowers, watching the early light
flash off the slanted windows of the greenhouse
and silver the limbs on the rows of dark hemlocks.
As usual, I was thinking about the moments of the past,
letting my memory rush over them like water
rushing over the stones on the bottom of a stream.
I was even thinking a little about the future, that place
where people are doing a dance we cannot imagine,
a dance whose name we can only guess.
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To a week of noticing the lovely scents around you,