As a small child my mother's handbag seemed voluminous, and spoke of an exotic world that I'd never reach and when sent to get her purse, or a hanky, I'd inhale a smell that exuded grown-upness. There was the shiny tan leather of the bag and the silk lining that absorbed many other fragrances: the faintest touch of laundry soap from clean, ironed handkerchiefs, but overwhelmingly the scent of her pressed face powder escaping slightly from its metal compact, a slight waxy note of lipstick and remnants of the perfume she wore from scarves put in her bag. There was also always her red leather address book, a pair of black leather gloves and a pen.
For me this is the smell of glamour - leather and powder, silk and a background medley of fragrance. I bought the Annick Goutal candle 'Le sac de ma mere' in anticipation of finding this smell again, but it was not my smell of my mother's handbag, it was the smell of Annick Goutal's for her daughter, Camille. For me it smelt violetish like a Guerlain lipstick, lovely but not my mum.
