Free J'adore Paris by Isabelle Lafleche Page B

announced out of the blue that my mother would be going away alone to do some painting. I remember crying and tugging at her skirt as she packed her bags and loaded up her car. After reading her journal, I realized she’d needed to leave us temporarily to maintain her sanity and rebuild her sense of self.
    It was only long after my father died that she finally found her calling. She studied interior design in Paris, moved to the south for inspiration, and finally picked up her paintbrush.
    I now understand why my mother kept insisting that I look for another job when I practised law at Edwards & White. She knew that, deep down, I wasn’t happy, and that my passions lay elsewhere. Having suppressed her dreams for so long, she feared that I would also suffer the consequences of an unsatisfying career choice.
    After all,
maman
knows best.

Chapter 10
    I t is said that Cleopatra had the sails of her barge soaked with perfume before she set off to seduce Mark Anthony; that Madame de Pompadour, one of Louis XV’s mistresses, spent millions of francs a year on aromatic elixirs to keep her lover entranced; and that Marilyn Monroe slept in nothing but a few drops of Chanel N°5.
    The French have always been known for their
expertise
in creating fine perfumes, thanks to the culture’s celebrated cadre of “noses.” The house of Christian Dior shares in this heritage. Back in 1968, Christian Dior hired Serge Lutens, then a photographer and stylist, to create a cosmetics line that became one of the most successful in history.
    Working for a high-end company like Dior, one might forget that there’s a whole other world of fragrances out there. The drugstores in New York are filled with perfumes carrying the names of Hollywood actresses, pop singers, and reality showstarlets. When I saw women pick one up, I wanted to wrestle the bottle out of their hands and throw it away. As Mr. Dior put it,
A woman’s perfume tells more about her than her handwriting
. So who are you if you wear fragrances by Britney, Cher, or Fergie? Curious, Uninhibited, or Outspoken.
    Although I’ve faithfully worn Dior’s J’Adore for years, I’m looking to diversify my portfolio of scents, so I’m heading over to Parfums Serge Lutens, an opulent boutique set in the arcade that encloses the Jardin du Palais Royal, the rose-lined garden that adjoins the former royal palace. My weekend away with Antoine is coming up, and I’m in the market for something new and provocative.
    Picking out a fragrance at Lutens is not a task to be taken lightly. All of the fragrances made there take their scent cues from everyday objects—sugar, for example, or a freshly peeled orange—and contain unique and untraditional ingredients.
    Once inside, I pick up a bottle of Bas de Soie (“silk stockings”), and its exotic notes transport me to the Far East. I imagine Antoine holding me in his arms and try to guess what he’d like best. He’s not into citrus or flowers but goes more for woody and peppery musks. After testing a half-dozen perfumes, I decide on À la Nuit (“a toast to the night”: could the name be more perfect?), an intoxicating blast of white jasmine, and leave the boutique feeling a frisson of excitement.
    Before heading home, I stop at one of the oldest restaurants in the city, Le Grand Véfour, for an espresso. Also located in the arcade of the Jardin du Palais Royal, it boasts a longand storied list of former patrons: Simone de Beauvoir, Jean-Paul Sartre, Jean Cocteau, Colette, and even Napoleon and Joséphine have dined here. It has a special place in my heart because my father brought me here as a child and sometimes bought me their exquisite
mousse au chocolat
.
    A treasure house of eighteenth-century decorative arts, the dining room is lined with delicately engraved mirrors and velvet upholstery. As I take in the sumptuous room, I’m reminded of Cecil Beaton’s famous remark.
We are all French
, he wrote, referring to the respect we all have for