Perfume is Pleasure

“Please don’t make me smell anything, Laura Beth.” These are not the words to inspire a love of scent or the decision to make a career in the fragrance industry. Yet, a certain suspicion about perfume was Shari Cohn Steinhardt’s legacy.

Not one of those who complain of headaches, allergies and the rudeness of those who indulge, she nonetheless preferred smells that were already there, not the kind you put on.

My mom died in late June and her final weeks were a glorious celebration of the people she loved, food and laughter. She held court and reveled in saying cheerful goodbyes. Her appreciation for sights, sounds and tastes was intense. She rhapsodized about flowers brought by friends, the hustle bustle of hospital life and the gurgling noise of water bubbling in a tank to moisten her oxygen. She loudly proclaimed her appreciation for food, ending months of picky eating - who knew that an orange popsicle could bring such transcendent joy?

Not all food was safe from Shari’s critique, however. There were, of course, the playful death-bed digs about my cooking. “With Laura Beth, it’s never the same way twice… (do not assume, dear reader, that this was a tribute to my creativity)… now Bob…(my husband and her cherished son-in-law)…he always does it the way I like it!”

“But wait, Mom,” I protested, “isn’t this supposed to be a time of reconciliation, you know, where we make peace?” Laughter all around. The point is, my mother was occasionally fussy, but generally elegant. Though not a scent-o-phile, she was an aesthete, a woman of exquisite taste in fashion, food, interior design. She adored beautiful things.

I forgive the rest. And I believe that my mother passed on to me certain tastes in perfume. My grandmother, Sylvia Steirman Cohn, wore scent. My earliest perfume memory was a bottle of Monsieur Worth, a men’s fragrance, on Grandma Sylvia’s mirrored tray. I discovered oakmoss. When I was about 13, my mother returned from a trip to France with a bottle of Yves Saint Laurent’s Y for me. Three generations charmed by chypre.

I have complete peace about my mother’s death and admire her decision to squeeze every bit of pleasure from life, even when death was clearly imminent. I am deeply grateful to her for teaching me the art of appreciation. My love for her goes from the tips of my toes to the tip of my nose.