On Nostalgia

A while back, I was perusing an antique store nearby when I was assailed by a pleasant scent. My nose recognized it before my mind did. I looked around until I found the source: an old powder cache. I was transported back to my childhood in an instant. Memories of my grandmother’s vanity tray flashed through my mind, and how she would let us powder our faces and pretend to be grown up. After prettifying ourselves, we would go out to the sala and climb a small stepstool and sing songs for our grandma.

Coty Airspun powder, the standard for women for decades. She had a vanity mirror tray that looked like it was wrapped with gold lace, and on it were her preciouses: the powder, a bottle of Chanel No. 19, a lipstick in a rose pink, and a jar of Pond’s face cream. She replaced every item with the same things as they were used up, save the perfume. That bottle she treasured and was only donned for special occasions. I think I have it somewhere, the alcohol evaporated long ago leaving the oil base dark and pungent laying on the bottom of that iconic bottle. She also had a bottle of Chanel No. 22 which she had purchased back in the 1930s and was SACRED and kept in the drawer under lock and key and away from sunlight.

Once the memory floodgates were opened, impulse took over. I found myself at the drugstore, perusing the aisles for the Airspun powder. I saw it sitting on a shelf, looking shy and quiet among the flashier offerings. But the round orange container with its happy little poufs scattered on the lid beckoned to me, tugging at my heartstrings. And so I indulged in a memory, smiling as the young cashier asked me if the powder was nice. “It was wonderful when I was five years old,” I replied. I hurried home and opened that little cache and proceeded to powder my nose just like my grandmother taught me.

And in those few minutes, I was young and pretty and singing again. ❤