Chaos – by Nava

I heard you all missed me… 

I´ve returned a bit later than I planned to, so I hope everyone had an enjoyable holiday season and 2009 is off to a good start. I wish I could say the same from where I´m sitting; things did not work out exactly as I´d planned, and instead of a communiqué from the Great White North, I am now hailing from somewhere south of the Mason Dixon Line. A dramatic paradigm shift, I know, and I am calling it a “pit stop”. It may be a cliché, but, “The best laid plans…” Well, you know the rest.

When last seen, I was heading to Canada for what I thought was going to be more than a “pit stop”, but the Canadian Border Services Agency thought otherwise. Although I am not a Canadian citizen, I am the daughter of a Canadian citizen (my deceased mother), and have been traveling there all my life to visit my family. I´ve never had a problem crossing the border via land or air, even over the past 7 years since “security” has taken on a whole new meaning. I´ve always known my luck was bound to run out sooner or later and run out it did, spectacularly, and at a very inconvenient time. I´ll spare you all the gory details, but I will advise anyone planning to travel to Canada to do so with caution, especially if you choose to cross at the Thousand Islands land border crossing in New York State. This facility serves as a “sin bin” for those Canadian Border Services employees of questionable character and intelligence. If you don´t believe me, I´ll give you my immigration attorney´s phone number. His exact words to me were, “That is one bad-ass border crossing.”

In the meantime, I am barred from traveling to Canada until next October; Seriously. Feel free to think of me as your friendly neighborhood enemy radical. You can literally smell me coming. The upside is that I am now working towards finally obtaining dual citizenship. I´ve started and abandoned the process a number of times; governmental bureaucracy is not my preferred poison, especially when dealing with the Canadian government. Their citizenship guidelines have changed many times over the years, and I´ve been eligible and ineligible at different points. Now it seems I will once again be eligible in a few months, so I am definitely planning on doing the deed. By the way, the fragrance selection in the duty-free shop on the Canadian side at Thousand Islands is lame; REALLY LAME. Not exactly what I wanted to say, but I´m trying to keep this within the boundaries of good taste.

Suffice it to say, this entire situation has been a shock to my system, and it has affected me in ways I could never have imagined. I´ve been vacillating between the gallows humor, anger, ridiculousness, and sheer ignorance and stupidity of it all. This would surely make a damn good story to regale people with at cocktail parties; not that I attend many cocktail parties, but if I did, I can definitely envision holding court in someone´s living room, putting people off their drinks and watching their jaws drop to the floor. In reality, I´ve been fogged over to the point where I have been unable to take pleasure in most things that used to give me pleasure; including fragrance. Things smell differently to me now, and what I used to love to smell, I can´t seem to stomach. Fragrances I´ve raved about smell “off” and ones I used to sport on rare occasions now provide more comfort than I ever thought possible. Is it any wonder that Donna Karan´s newly re-issued Chaos is what I reach for most often now? My rave review of Estée Lauder Sensuous should be stricken from the Posse archives because it now makes me gag. Lostmarc´h Lann Ael: Syrup of Ipecac. Bond Scent of Peace: a metallic, sour grapefruit nightmare. L´Artisan Vanilia: rancid burnt sugar mixed with baby vomit. I am not well…

The only smells that make me happy these days are the aforementioned Chaos, Comme des Garà§ons´ Harissa; am I literally full of piss and vinegar – er, blood oranges and chili peppers? I think I might be. Incense Zagorsk; pimento berries and pine have never smelled so right. Occasionally, Satellite Padparadscha works its way in, but Idole de Lubin makes me feel like I have an over-proof rum hangover. My bottle of Christian Lacroix Tumulte Pour Homme is down to the dregs. I had squirreled it away because it is impossible to get. Now I would offer up a vital organ to whoever can tell me where I can get some more. My Serges? Don´t even go there. Muscs Koublai Kahn reminds me of a horse barn that hasn´t been mucked out in decades. Borneo 1834 smells like a construction worker in need of a steel wool scrub-down. Animalic is completely out of the question and skank is officially off the menu.

The only “foodie” or “gourmand” scents I seem to be able to tolerate are Philosophy´s Cranberry shower gel, which I believe has been discontinued, and Pacifica´s Mexican Cocoa pillar candle. Actually, you might find me curled up in the fetal position in front of the Pacifica candle display at Whole Foods. I never cared for them before, but now I find them powerfully soothing. Trolling department store fragrance counters used to be powerfully soothing, but I can´t bring myself to go there yet. I think I´ll get back to them eventually, or this could possibly be an existential crisis that will permanently alter the course of my life. There are many days when I don´t reach for fragrance at all, which is what I find most shocking. In the past, not spritzing or dabbing on something was tantamount to forgetting to put on underwear. Now, it´s a regular thing.  

Here´s an update: I ventured to the local mall for the first time since my reverse-relocation to pick up a few non-essential kitchen implements. I´ve been watching a lot of Food Network cooking shows over the past few months and those seem to soothe me almost as much as Pacifica candles. I realized I couldn´t live without one of those long-handled mesh strainer thingies, so I ended up getting two. Ina Garten, the Barefoot Contessa, has me jonesing a French food mill, but I couldn´t find one. I´m not that disappointed; I do own a food processor and a blender. I wandered through Sephora and sampled Ed Hardy Love & Luck. Big mistake; worse than Ed Hardy Women.

I deliberately parked outside one of the department stores so I could exit through the cosmetics/fragrance area. The only scent I sampled was Harajuku Lovers “G”. It was soft, coconutty and not too sweet. There were still some of those cute solid perfume compacts for sale and they made me smile. I didn´t buy them, but I´m seriously thinking I need them. The road back might not be as long as I thought. Stay tuned…