|Oh, Mamma...are you really going to share this story?|
There was a little boy I had in a toddler class many, many years ago. In fact, this boy is probably in his teens now so would perhaps agree with the direction I'm going with this (eventually - I have to set the mood first)...
His name was Lachlan. His mother was from France and only shopped in Paris for him on trips because "boys clothing was so much more appropriate there." I dunno. But he smelled amazing. My co-teacher and I were always swooning over his perfect baby boy fragrance. What was it, we'd want to know...
Mustela, she'd say. You can only get it in France but some shops here [Boston] have started to carry it so it can be found...
If we ever have baby boys they will smell French, my co-teacher and best friend at the time and I would say to each other. We don't care how much it costs: it's essential.
We worked together for a few more years before she left, pregnant with a boy. She found a tiny bottle of Mustela at a European shop, and yes, he did indeed smell like a French baby...bebe.
Over ten years later you can find it at places like Target, CVS and (of course) Amazon where I purchased a pump-jug of it at the magical price of $12 when he came home from NICU. I hadn't forgotten; when things become essential forgetting is impossible.
I have used it sparingly and am only a little more than halfway through the bottle.
Tristan smells like memories of hopes and wishes.
If I ever had a child I'd hoped for a little boy.
...not just to make him smell French!
Cross my heart.
Now Tristan is two+ and he gets so dirty every day. I don't even know how, but a dusty musty cloud has wrapped itself around Le French Scent. He smells like sweat and peanut butter, graham crackers and raisins, freshly washed clothes and carpet dust bunnies. There is the lingering fragrance underneath it all but I realized with a heart-squeeze that he's no longer a faux-French baby anymore.