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Evening in Paris  Soir de Paris Just as the smell of a favourite dish brings back images of cooked meals at home, so too the scent of many a good perfume has helped to cement memories of love, romance or just plain old friendship. Kiku  Green Apples  Nothing Blase about me  To quote a best selling author of the New York Times: " Scents have an uncanny ability to trigger memories because they are the only sense that directly connects to the part of the brain that stores emotional memories." This man knows his stuff as emotion sets in as I type recalling my teenage years and the definitive scents of the flower power generation as as much a part of the backdrop to the late 60's/early 70's era as I was, alongside the Beatles and flared trousers. I have perfume giants Houbigant, Max Factor, Faberge, Donna Karan, Coty and Nina Ricci to thank for tantilising my taste buds as a young woman as my poorly paid wages did not deter me from spoiling myself with my favourite perfumes in the guise of CHANTILLY, BLASE(with an acute accent) KIKU, and GREEN APPLES. Alas, they are now as vintage as I am but the smells (unlike me) are fresh as a daisy in my mind. Chantilly Lace  Without the pretty face Whilst the old Rock 'N' Roll stars back then, such as The Big Bopper and Little Richard may have confessed a love of "CHANTILLY LACE, a pretty face, a pony tail hangin' down, a wiggle in a girl's walk, and a giggle in her talk to make their world go round and round; going on to say that there was nothing in their world that would make them act so funny, make them spend their money and make them feel real loose like a pair of long necked geese, and .. oh baby, that is what they liked" .. that is where the similarity between me and one of my favourite scents ended. It has been said by many critics that the perfume one chooses acts as an expression of who you are or who you would like to be. Once more my altered ego kicked in here, as, even as a very young woman though completely unaware of her own sexuality, I adored PANACHE. French in origin, it was a perfume that carried the connotation of a girl with a flamboyant manner and reckless courage - both of which I desired but never quite made the grade in reality. Tommy Boy  For a not-so-tom-girl Though not the sporting type, I have to admit that I was once in love with Tommy Hilfiger. Sounds like a hunky firefighter don't you think, but alas, it was just, as my dad would have put it, a 'flash in the pan' perfume .. aftershave, in fact, that reminded me of my days back in the Deep South whilst standing in for Scarlett! It should have been Tommy Girl, I know, but it did not have the longevity of it's counterpart, so I needed a fragrance with staying power. Recycling the Mistletoe and Wine  When Olivia Newton John put her signatory to the sweet smelling XANADU - which proved to be more of a hit than her musical of the same name back then - I was quite taken aback to think that the only way to sell a scent would be by association with a movie star. It is only now, in recent years, that celebrities have signed contracts with perfume houses to associate their names with a signature scent as a self-promtion campaign. Corny though some of the brand names are, it is with deep regret that I now have to witness on the shelves bottles of "MISS YOU NIGHTS" and "DEVIL WOMAN" by Cliff Richards. This is amusing to say the least but maybe they are designed with deliberance to follow sequentially dependant upon his performance before and after a date! I mean, JLO GLOW, by Jennifer Lopez - how poetic is that? Are we soon to be adorned with equally laughable perfume adverts such as WICKY (by Bianca Jackson)(one that is a little thicker than normal), TUNA (by Captain Birds Eye)(a scent with a hit of omega)or HERCULES (By Albert Steptoe)(for loose women to "splash it all over" if they feel like horsing around with their partners)? I cannot believe for one minute that Sir Cliff needs the money from 'royalities', I mean, the government pension should without a 'SHADOW' of a doubt (no pun intended), keep him adequately in misteltoe and wine until he pops his clogs. Does he have no pride? Maybe I should bring out my own brand of LIEBFRAUMILCH by #Grace Kelly- a quick dab of it behind the ears and hey presto I might even 'pull' at the next alcoholics annonymous meeting! A Touch of Class  Very Hollywood  Epris  Givenchy  The Scent of Seduction  AP Maitresse Poison  Not Pure, Not White, just POISON Oscar winning perfume  Everybody Needs Love  Wake up and smell the roses  ... or not maybe? PERFUME: THE STORY OF A MURDERER (Buy cheap brands and you are guaranteed to live longer) Title  Caption MURDER: Now there's a thing. The scene is set. I am the producer of "MORT PAR LA JALOUSIE" and am hosting a VIP gala event for my up and coming movie release. It is a multi-million dollar budget movie with a touch of lust and romance in which I have cast Laurence Olivier as the Prince Regent and Marily Monroe as Elsie Maine. She is a showgirl. I am merely his undying love interest. I have invited the top echelon of Hollywood to attend this special unannounced VIP Premier to promote additional media hype for my movie. As my guests arrive on the red carpet they are greeted with cocktails and appetizers. Most of my celebrity guests already know each other. After mingling about and getting caught up in all the latest Hollywood gossip, they are each given a personalised gold laptop where they can indulge in a fun "What Movie Star Am I"? challenge on my Facebook application. My next task is for them to write, direct, produce and act out their own little plays that they can then entertain us with. As a delectable star-worthy dinner is served, the guests collect information for their scripts from each other with tremendous laughter as the champagne continues to flow. As the candles flicker, the venue becomes a stage and some guests plays out their fantasies while others continue to top up the Cava and flirt with each other in usual Hollywood style. Frivolities, however, are suddenly brought to a halt when one of my maid's announces that she has just found my leading lady dead in the conservatory. My very good friend, the distinguished Philip Marlowe openly declares that he is "about to come out of retirement." Underneath his wise-cracking, hard drinking personna, there is a tough private eye with a quietly contemplative and philisophical manner. Though he has had one too many brandy's himself this night, he is able to maintain his morally upright position, in keeping an open mind. Tongues are wagging, the sound of laughter continues and in true Hollywood fashion no-one blinks an eyelid but instead can't resist posing for the Papparazi who out for a front-page spread. As Phil mingles with my guests his ploy is to loosed their tongues with liquor in order to extract any information from them that might lead to the culprit. Murder and Motive are two very good friends of his. Her photographer David Canover made it no secret that he was jealous of the attention she had got from the armed forces following a special photo shoot to 'help the war effort.' They had all that 'eye candy' while he felt like he was on rations when it came to attention from Marilyn. Joe DiMaggio. Now here was a man who worshipped the ground she walked on but even though he turned up at the party accompanied by a stunning brunette, he had never quite got over their broken engagement. Joseph Cotton's absence did not go amiss during the dessert. She had been teasing him the entire evening as she had done before when they spent a few days at Niagra Falls. It was public knowledge among the jet set that he felt humiliated on that holiday when she turned her sights on a much younger man. He had felt threatened and was not going to let the matter go lightly. When JFK and Jackie arrived you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. His affair with Marilyn was a closely guarded secret but maybe the wife knew more than she was letting on. Then there was the man himself who had put up with her being late for their dates time and time again while he waited for her to put the finishing touches to her make-up. He was the President of the United States. How dare she toy with him like this knowing he could not resist her. He was on tenderhooks that night - his reputation was at stake here but he did not want to miss the Premiere. When questioned by Philip about their relationship Arthur Miller was quite open in his response. His exact words were that her "sleeping pills and alcohol consumption" made her "mortually injured in some way." But he did love her nevertheless. Anybody who was anybody attended my party that night most who had encountered Marilyn at some stage in their careers. Hollywood women knew she was a hard act to follow. Philip had been my friend and confidente for many years and if he did not know me by now then no-one would. My eyes were like a window to my mind and before the clock struck twelve he summoned me to the games room where Laurence was waiting. Laurence had been a priest before he opted to become an actor and it was there that he had his confession. That I was jealous of his Showgirl. That he and I could only ever be the Prince and the Pauper. After all, I was just a nurse in real-life. Overworked and underpaid. She did things to men that I could never hope to do. When she eventually arrived at JFK's hotel more that half an hour late for their date, he still told the press that "when she walked in it was like the parting of the red sea." They reported that "there were about 25 people in there at that time and the crowd divided into halves as she walked through the room ." The paparazzi went on to state that "as she walked in, everything stopped. It was magical. That they had never seen anyone stop a room like that before." The handsome waiters confessed that they, like everyone else just "wanted to stand near her, smell her fragrance and breath the same air." It just wasn't fair. There was this woman dependent on prescription drugs and alcohol to comfort her emotional instability and yet no other woman had been so seduced (even if discarded) by so many of her conquests and I was jealous, jealous, jealous! Now, I may not have personified Hollywood glamour in the way that she did, nor have an unparallelled glow and energy that would enarmour the world but hey, us brunettes need cuddling too you know. So why is it that GENTLEMEN (always) PREFER BLONDES? I too was a lonely girl with a dream only, unlike Marilyn,I woke up every morning to find that my dreams did not come true. I may not be Marilyn Monroe but I still wanted someone to read my Cinderella Story. As I made a quiet exit I cried a million love songs but hey, it was my party and I could cry if I wanted to. She had stolen my thunder. It wasn't video that killed the Hollywood star, it was a box of Thorntons. Actually! I knew she had a weakness for luxury treats and so with a little ARSENIC I wrapped the packaging in some OLD LACE, knowing she could not resist the temptation to unveil it. I had made a point of telling her and only her about my 'secret stash' and where it could be found. There were only 3 chocolates missing but it was enough to do the trick. Mort Par La Jalousie - Death by Jealousy - how apt. I was destined to have a Box Office hit but for one slight detail .. I couldn't even murder a pint of Britain's finest ale, yet serve up a large glass of entertainment at a Murder Mystery weekend, now you're talking. So mine had a Movie Theme this time round, what will it be next I wonder. A rip-roaring 1920's Gangster theme sounds ace with lots of murder, bribery and back -stabbing. I could create a venue called the Four Aces - a lavish joint that would serve booze with music in the front and a gambling hall out the back. Upstairs could be a very high class and exclusive brothel. I would invite the cream of the cream in society to attend once more with as we play out the roles of gangsters, jazz singers, hit men, politicians, singers and molls. There would be an awful lot of wheeling and dealing going on. (Hey, maybe I should invite Del Boy too). REALITY CHECK ..... Hey, this is Hollywood, anything can happen, right? |