The classic architecture of the buildings enthralled me, and the ornate doors held me spellbound. Each exquisite door represented a physical manifestation of possibilities. The allure appeased both my aesthetic and whimsical sensibilities.
As I walked around this neighborhood, it became clear that the beauty, elegance, and grandeur of these old, majestic cream-colored buildings with their wrought iron balconies, capped dark-colored roofs, and dormer windows were as much Aunt Evelyn as was her old Victorian back home.
My aunt stopped by an aquamarine-painted storefront. The gold letters sparkled against a blue-green background. The window display contained round perfume bottles encircling a bountiful arrangement of tiny fuchsia orchids in a milky rose-glaze vase on an antique oval cherrywood table.
She held the door open for me. “We’re here.”
I was surprised when the scents didn’t assault my senses the moment we stepped in. The store was small, although the eggshell walls made it appear larger. Aside from the orchids by the window, the only source of interior color was the perfume bottles.
The lone Asian saleslady, close to my aunt’s age, at the counter greeted us. Aunt Evelyn spoke with her, and soon I was presented with a velvet tray of five options.
“Try those. Clemense and I narrowed it to floral and citrus notes. If you prefer musk or something else, let us know.”
Clemense smiled at me and made a gesture. It was clear she didn’t speak English. She picked up a lilac bottle, sprayed it on a tester strip, and handed me the paper.
I brought it to my nose and closed my eyes. Subtle, floral, and clean. Jasmine.
“I love this one,” I declared.
“Try the others anyway. You might find something better.” My aunt said something to Clemense, who nodded, and retreated to give us some privacy.
I picked up an orange bottle and sprayed a tester. “Who were you with when you bought your perfume?”
Aunt Evelyn traced the side of the sky-blue perfume bottle on the tray. “A dear friend who showed me the beauty of this city. It was a time in my life when I wanted nothing more than to stay here. Back then, I walked these streets every day and spent hours sitting at a café watching the world unfold.”
I reached for the yellow bottle, spraying a new tester. “Have you gotten in touch with that old friend of yours?”
“Not yet.”
I yearned to pry, but I didn’t want to risk ruining the enjoyment of the past two days. I couldn’t remember the last time my aunt and I spent this much time together without quarrelling. She had never revealed a kernel of herself to me before. The need to connect with my aunt on a deeper level overrode my curiosity.
I waved the tester under my nose. The yellow bottle contained both floral and citrus notes. It wasn’t for me. I reached for the pink bottle, which was roses, next.
My aunt released her grip on the blue bottle. “You’re still leaning toward the jasmine, aren’t you?”
“So far, it seems to be the winner.” I sniffed the rose perfume and shook my head. “What are we doing tomorrow?”
“We are not doing anything.” She sprayed the blue bottle onto the tester and handed the paper to me. “I have work in getting the tea shop ready for its opening, but you are free to explore the city solo.”
“I’ll miss your company.” I sniffed the final option and shook my head.
“There was a time when I thought I would never hear you say that.”
“I mean, you did spoil me today.”
She arched her brow and let out a girlish laugh. “That I did. Do me a favor: don’t tell your mother. Linda would ask me for a spreadsheet breakdown of every item.”
“She totally would,” I laughed.
* * *
* * *
The next morning, as we sat down for breakfast, my aunt prepared me for exploring the city. She handed me a Paris Museum Pass along with a carnet of metro tickets.
“Your first day out on your own.” She nibbled on a buttery croissant. “You’ll be an excellent exploratrice. Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly safe.”
“A wonderful city for tourists, right?”
She nodded. “The nearest station is rue du Bac, a three-minute walk away. Take Montalembert south to boulevard Saint-Germain and you’ll see it. The metro system is easy to navigate and, you know, I’m only a text or call away if you need me. Enjoy these precious few days before you have to start your lessons. You’re young and you’ve never seen Paris before. It’ll be exciting.”
“There’re so many museums and galleries on my list. I don’t know where to begin.”
“It’s beautiful out. The Musée d’Orsay is nearby, as is the Louvre. I do think, though, that you should head to Luxembourg Gardens first. There’s nothing like seeing the flowers in bloom. The Eiffel Tower isn’t going anywhere.”
“Thank you. I’ll take my coat.” We had picked up a fitted trench coat yesterday and, with the cooler spring weather, it was perfect for this morning’s outing.
My aunt sipped her tea. “You’ll need a scarf. It complements your outfit. Go into my closet. There’re a few hanging there. I want you to pick one.”
“Auntie, you already gave me too much,” I protested. “I can’t raid your closet.”
“You can and you must. I’d love for you to have something of mine. Go on.”
There was no use in arguing with an older relative.
I headed to her closet. The bedrooms were of similar size. Rose damask curtains hung beside tall windows, contrasting against creamy white walls and their decorative plaster molding. The ivory Venetian rococo hand-painted commode was the centerpiece of the room. This had been my favorite piece of furniture in my aunt’s home. Delicate royal-blue butterflies fluttered between the bright painted roses, shifting as if they could fly into the air at any moment. It was as I remembered from wandering upstairs in my aunt’s house when I was six. I touched the moving butterflies on one of the drawers. One leaped into the air, fluttering until it faded into nothingness.
I tore myself from the mesmerizing cabinet, walked to the closet, and opened it. I always admired my aunt’s exquisite tastes: everything was tailored and stylish. After scanning through her curated collection of clothes, shoes, and handbags, I found the scarves: all Hermès and pricey. It would be a grave slight to my aunt to choose the cheapest option, not that there was one I could see. I selected the Faubourg print in pinks.
Before I put everything back, I spotted a stack of papers at the corner of her dresser.
I didn’t want to pry, but the top sheet caught my eye.