Weather-Beaten Awakenings: Let it Go

"You must have brought the bad weather with you,
the sky’s the colour of lead,
all you’ve left me was a feather
on an unmade bed”
~It’s Over, Tom Waits

The thunder came crushing down like release from heavens last night. The humidity and the city's torpor of the last few days came to an abrupt end. The foliage, dripping wet and cleansed, as if a giant rubber had erased all dust off it, shone with a newly found brilliance this morning. Mitsouko eau de toilette (with one drop of parfum extrait on the hollow of my neck) wafted off my cleavage in spicy puffs of selfish enjoyment.

How neatly arranged that the demarcation falls on the first calendar day of the month of October; almost as if the skies were conspiring or rather scheduling things with the precision of a conscientious housekeeper. It's official; autumn has started and with it the glorious melancholy that the promise of decline is giving us each year at this time. The moment when nature is rubbing its weary eyes a bit, starts yawning soon to plunge into a short nap. Hypnos (sleep) was the mythological brother of Thanatos and I'm reminded of this little fact as I see the fallen blossoms, yesterday still so orange red, today trampled underfoot in the muddy pools on the ivory pavement, a dark rotting mulch.

Mitsouko by Guerlain, my default rainy-weather-perfume, has often been linked to a certain wistfulness, seeing as it's inspired by a novel concerning cross-starred lovers. But I'm convinced there's something more to it than just mental associations, especially since raindrops make me exceedingly happy, as they're not incessant on these latitudes. As I savor the mowed grass freshly fragrant in the air by the scent of geosmin mixed with chlorophylle rising up, I sense anew that certain aspects of the fragrance are enhanced; its mossiness, its cinnamon-clove kick, its citric tang, its fiery heart torn by unspeakable passions...Although Mitsouko is also customarily linked to glamor, to me it will always remain an introspective affair, something to keep like a secret that puts a smile on your face no one knows anything about.

I'm reprising a ritual and this small tradition aids me more effortlessly slide into the slots of this giant machine of which we're all bolts and wheels in the end. Vaille que vaille...

And how about you? Do you have specific fragrances you wear in rainy weather?