The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
by Sherryanne De La Boise
Home tests abound in the Walgreen's: pregnancy, blood sugar, arch supports, level of reading glasses required. Scientists have trained dogs to sniff for cancer and for illegal drugs (what will happen to the dogs trained to find Marijuana,, now that it is legal?).
A doctor once told me that she could recognize certain diseases, just by how the patient smelled. Asking the patient to leave off the aftershave and scented soap must have made her waiting room rather rank. Like before a mammogram, when no one has been adorned with deodorant. Ugh!
I like the smell that waifs, when I turn my head. For to clean hair, I sometimes give an extra dash of my favorite floral perfume and pile it high with a fancy clip and a dusting of secure-hold hairspray. We are social distancing, so I don't have to worry about perfuming bombing anyone other than my Husband.
Just a whiff of White Hair hairspray takes me back to being a small child playing on the floor of the beauty salon, listening to the ladies tell riotous stories and commiserating over troubles. Appointments were made so as to specifically encounter certain people. My late sister's mother-in-law hated her own mother-in-law, yet once a month, they would share the same hair appointment slot. This was done so that they did not have to speak to each other, but could transmit important family information. I miss the fun of the beauty appointments.
Just this past week, my 93 year old uncle went to his barber shop of 40+ years. Across from the high school, it was teeming with men. There was no way that I was going to pass that threshold! His unsuspecting aide went and returned highly amused. Seems that one man had plopped down beside her and asked her out to dinner. Another told her to forget him, he'd probably stiff her with the bill. Instead, she should go to lunch with him.
"Yes," said the barber, indicating the second man and lunch. "You'd get stuck with a smaller bill."
For me, the other comfort smell is suntan lotion. That coconut smell of Hawaiian Tropic Dark Tanning Oil starts a memory rush of high school and the hours spent trying to get tan hands and feet (one is really tan if the toes and fingers are tan). The smell of Bain de Soleil and I'm on the back of a motorcycle with the boyfriend travelling France.
Open a bottle of Coppertone Tanning Lotion #4 and I am a young girl riding in Mother's carmen gia convertible with the 8-track tape blaring "Jesus Christ Superstar." Once she pulled up to a red light and forgot to reach over to turn down the volume. The tape screeched out, "I'm King of the Jews!"
This was before electric windows, so she just stared straight ahead, as if it must have come from some other car, totally ignoring the horrified man in the next car.
Apparently, bees also are cognizant of smells. Usually, they bump into me, if I am too close. As I passed by the bee yard, several decided I must be a source of sweetness and nectar and dug into my perfumed hair. Panic, as I tried to get them away from my head. For, I swell terribly with stings and am terrified if one should sting and cause swelling in my neck. I ran to the drug box and grabbed a package of frozen shrimp – ice packs could not be found - to cool the stings and a permanent marker to make circles on my scalp where the three stings occurred. Very helpful for the doctor, if swelling gets out of hand. The circles and fallen hair gave a punk edge to my church attire.