Sandwiched
Growing up, I remember my mother having challenges when she would get close to people wearing certain perfumes or colognes. Some fragrances caused her to have headaches or other reactions, which made me avoid wearing my favorite Eternity perfume whenever I was around her.
Mom was only able to wear a few types of perfumes, which she applied sparingly. I recall she usually lined her shelves with Chanel No. 5 products. Later she switched to Obsession. The smell of either still reminds me of her.
At age 87, however, Mom’s done a complete 180. In recent years she’s been wearing Boucheron, which is becoming increasingly hard to find. And when I say she’s wearing it, I mean she is WEARING it!
I do her laundry for her, which I have to keep separate from my family’s clothing because the Boucheron doesn’t just cling lightly to each of her items – I think it’s now bonded permanently to every thread. And lately I’ve gone from buying her a bottle every few months to a bottle every month!
I can’t even keep her laundry in my house anymore once it’s folded or hung up. I always take it to my car so our laundry room doesn’t reek.
I wondered lately what might be going on and I found out that, similar to the sense of taste diminishing as we age, the sense of smell can lessen as well. It can be caused by a loss of nerve endings, less mucus in the nose, and other factors. Some causes are preventable, some not so much.
My sister-in-law Janie can sometimes get Mom to rein things in by reminding her that others in her assisted living facility may be sensitive to overpowering fragrances. This works for a few months, then Mom slowly begins to return to her dousing routine.
My brother Mark and I have talked about sneaking over to her apartment to dilute the Boucheron bottle with water. At this point I’m about ready to give it a try. Recently the smell from her clothing got so overpowering that even I experienced a slight headache.
Another tactic may be the “Gosh, Mom, I just can’t find it online anymore,” routine, although I hate lying, especially to my mother. Or I could start wearing a face mask when it’s laundry time.
Wish me luck on overcoming this latest hurdle in the sandwich generation adventure. And don’t think I’ve lost my mind if you see my driving down the street with Mom’s clothes hanging in the back of my car with every window open in the middle of winter. A gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do.