It is said that "childhood smells like perfume and brownies."  That came to mind when I pulled up this picture this evening.  My Gram had a very distinct, if modest and understated, style.  She favored coordinating polyester outfits purchased by mail order, which somehow looked quite put together on her. She had her hair set and dried, in more or less the same style, every week from the day I was born until she died, giving it a mist of Final Net each day in between for good measure and covering the whole with a see-through plastic head scarf in wind or rain.  I don't recall her ever wearing mascara but she always wore lipstick… and a spritz of Estee. 

To this day I can walk past a perfume counter and she is right there. Right. There. 

One of my very favorite memories is of an atomizer like this one.  I remember the pressure of the fabric bulb and the weight of the cut glass. when I saw this one on a shelf  of bric-a-brac it was destined for my vanity. (Which, at this moment, is my windowsill.) I smile when I see it and offer a little prayer for the repose of her soul.