The Little Perfume Shop Off the Champs-Élysées

by Rebecca Raisin

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a fragrance you’d buy for someone you didn’t know very well. A safe blend of…nothingness.’ My vial was an innocuous shade of light blue. I’d tried to encapsulate home, Whispering Lakes, earthy rugged mountains, crisp autumnal air and that feeling you get when you’re safe, you’re comfortable. And that’s exactly what I’d managed to do. A comfort zone perfume! Instead of stepping out of my own comfort zone, I stepped into it and bottled it. Gah.

  With no time to start over and a sense of panic arising, I could see the same reflected back in Lila’s eyes. Dammit.

  ‘You’re too talented to go home,’ she said, though she didn’t know me or my perfumery really. ‘It’ll be me who gets eliminated.’ She put a hand to her forehead. ‘And I gave up so much to be here. My parents, they didn’t approve.’ Pain tinged her voice grey and it was hard not to offer platitudes to the poor girl. She’d gone against her parents’ wishes and how soul crushing would it be to go home the very first week?

  Even I could see her perfume was not up to standard on aesthetics alone. She was on the verge of giving up but she still had hours left to fix that. I could help her, but in turn would that send me home? I dithered with what to do, until I heard my nan’s voice, I didn’t teach you to be selfish, Del, you help that girl now.

  Smiling at the thought of Nan somewhere over my shoulder, I said, ‘Lila, you just need to filter it again, use a different technique.’ I walked to her bench and opened the stopper, wafting the bottle under my nose. Green tea, orange peel, bergamot, if you overlooked the murkiness it was an evocative perfume. The scent brought to mind early mornings, the first sip of tea, and the beauty of a new dawn, soft sunlight and promise. A couple of the elements needed balancing but it could be fixed in time.

  Watching my face closely, tentative hope filled her eyes. ‘The green tea is too strong, yeah?’

  I nodded, ‘Yep, level it out or it takes on seaweed notes. Aside from that the top note is beautiful, and it conjures the quiet joy of a morning perfectly.’

  Her face flushed with happiness. ‘I’ll filter it and try and play about with the combinations. Do you really think I can fix it?’

  ‘Yep,’ I said with a smile. The only thing stopping Lila was self-doubt. By second guessing, she’d lost her way. Mired by the thought of failure because of the pressure, and I knew this because I was facing the same problem.

  But I could see that Lila had a real gift, the ability to make a perfume summon a scene, an evocation, it was what the Lecléres were striving for, something I was striving for but just couldn’t get quite grasp it.

  She’d do very well if she could get the aesthetics under control. ‘All you have to do is believe in yourself, seriously. I’m envious. You’ll make your parents proud, Lila. Just you wait and see.’ Hope flared, bright like a new dawn.

  ‘Thanks, Del. Imagine that,’ she said with a sad smile. ‘Them proud of me. They haven’t quite wrapped their heads around the fact they paid for my chemistry degree and I chose to make perfume instead of developing a cure for diseases or something noble. But I have to follow my heart, right? And the last thing I want is to go home tail between my legs and all those I-told-you-so looks.’

  It must’ve been awful not having their support. It would make the journey incredibly difficult and I really hoped she’d make it to the grand finale to prove to them that perfumery was a viable career. While it might have been all sorts of noble inventing medical breakthroughs, you couldn’t be passionate about it if it wasn’t your vocation.

  Like love, perfumery chose you, and not the other way around. Having the nose for it was a one in a million gift and how could you argue with that? As dippy as my parents were they always supported whatever whim I had, and I felt sorry that Lila didn’t have the same.

  Her eyes were glassy with tears and I gave her arm a pat.

  ‘Thanks, Del. Gosh, I didn’t expect in a million years that another contestant would ever help me fix it. I really appreciate it.’

  I shrugged and gave her a wide smile. ‘You would have fixed it, anyway, Lila. You probably just needed to step away from it for a while.’

  Lila walked to my bench and uncorked my perfume, piping a few drops onto a scent strip. After a moment, she said, ‘I see what you were trying to do,’ she said. ‘It is comforting, like a homecoming!’

  ‘Not exactly the risk of the century, is it?’

  She debated how to answer. ‘Well, while it’s not mind-blowing, it’s still pretty damn good.’

  ‘Not good enough though. It’s too sedentary. Like something you’d buy for the old lady down the road who looked after your dog while you were on holiday.’

  She laughed, the sound like chimes. ‘I wouldn’t quite put it that way, but yeah, I see what you mean. Keep going, Del, don’t give up now, will you?’

  I shook my head. There was no chance of that. ‘I’ll tinker with it some more and hope I can get some pizazz into it.’

  She dropped her gaze and her voice, her shyness reappearing. ‘Once this wraps up do you want to grab dinner sometime? I usually eat with the group but it’d be nice to escape that for a while.’

  ‘Dinner sounds great,’ I said, feeling a rush of warmth. I too wanted to escape the boisterous group most of the time. I’d managed to avoid dinner by eating cheaply at the little bistros tucked away in the 5th arrondissement, or further afield in the 6th, but still caught a handful of them at breakfast when they were usually more subdued. Like Lila, I didn’t enjoy confrontation or dominating personalities or being questioned by the management team who seemed intent on making us sweat by interrogating us for reasons unknown. ‘Was it you who asked to leave the competition?’ I asked.

  A blush crept up her cheeks. ‘It was a knee jerk reaction, that’s all. I’m glad Aurelie talked me out of it.’

  ‘I’m glad too. You’ve got such a gift, Lila. Don’t let anyone intimidate you. There’s some wily contestants here, but you can beat them on talent alone.’

  ‘Thanks, Del. Let’s just say I’ll never trust Clementine again…’

  You and me both.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mustering courage the next day I took my vial of perfume to the Leclére office to submit for judging. In the end I’d run out of time and had to submit the comfort zone fragrance and cross my fingers that someone submitted something worse. But not Lila or Lex. I didn’t want them to leave, and I had an inkling they’d stay after smelling their perfumes. The other contestants would sell me up the river if it would advance them, but Lex and Lila were of a differently ilk, and already I liked them as people and perfumers.

  We wouldn’t find the results out until Monday morning, so the next few days would be interminable. If only, if only, if only…

  Disappointment sat heavily on my shoulders. Still, it would be better to front up with confidence, right? Fake it until you make it and all that.

  With a steadying breath I knocked on the door and entered the office to find Sebastien there. ‘Bonjour, Del,’ he said, motioning for me to sit opposite him. In the light bright room with only us I felt exposed, vulnerable as I handed him the bottle. Perfume was so personal, each note symbolizing a hidden depth, a layer of secrets, until it became someone else’s and open to their interpretation. ‘Can I leave this with you for the judges?’

  ‘Oui,’ he said. Today his hair was slightly mussed as though he hadn’t slept well. But the vivid green of his eyes were bright and focused directly on me, waiting for me to speak. Shoot. I’d never been the tongue-tied sort. It was the long days and lonely nights in foreign locales that had me dreaming in French…while I was awake.

  I dropped into the wingback chair and we gazed at one another for too long to be comfortable, that same rueful smile playing at his lips, as if he could read my mind. It unnerved me that in his presence my traitorous heart fluttered. I reminded myself everyone acted a little foolishly around him. It was the French effect. That reserve of his that we all wanted to chip awa
y at and see what was underneath.

  He gave me his full attention like he was reading every nuance of my face, memorizing the curve of my lips, the way my hands quaked a little. Like he’d been waiting for me for the longest time and here I was…

  Lack of sleep was the culprit. He was just a man! Just a gorgeous French man. Even though this was liked being sucked into a bubble where time stopped and all I could feel was the thrumming of my heart.

  Sebastien radiated this cool intoxicating kind of charm. I bet he was the type who helped old ladies cross the street and took in stray puppies but he would never say so. He was just a little bit lovely if you were into the type of man who considered things, and held himself in check. I felt there was a deeper level to the guy if you got to know him.

  ‘You were saying?’ He wore that same half smirk he often did around me, like I was amusing to him. Gah.

  I set my shoulders and said, ‘I hope the judges find my perfume satisfactory.’ The phone rang, startling me, but he left it unanswered.

  ‘Please, continue,’ he said, in that god damn sultry French accent of his. It should have been illegal to speak in such a tone.

  ‘I was trying to make love….’ I petered off, mortification rushing my cheeks. Holy mother of perfume.

  His eyes shone with mirth, and I did my best to recover by speaking really loudly. ‘Make a perfume about love.’ Please, earth swallow me whole. ‘Love of homecoming. And, I really have to go now. I’ve, erm, left—’ my brain in America! ‘—left my electric blanket on and really it’s a waste of electricity not to mention a potential fire hazard. And being summer and all…’

  He held up a hand and I couldn’t help but notice it was pretty damn fine as far as hands went, long tapering fingers, a nice olive skin tone, and neat nails. ‘Wait, Del.’

  I was bent at the waist mid-hover, the desire to escape high, half crouched wasn’t my best angle so I sat heavily looking anywhere but him. I tried to make love?

  ‘Yes?’ He could have asked if I liked rap music and I would have said yes to escape faster.

  He cocked his head, sunlight caught the black of his hair and turned it silver. ‘You don’t have dinner with the group and I wondered why.’

  He’d noticed? ‘I’ve been working in the lab late every night. You know, that’s my happy place, perfumery, and I’ve always been that way.’ But truthfully I was struggling to make perfume without my nan, and I worried that without her, I couldn’t do it. How could I tell him though? I didn’t want anyone’s pity. Or worse their doubt, that the wildcard was struggling.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I understand. As long as you’re not having trouble with anyone?’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Besides, I could handle them, even Clementine if I needed to.

  ‘So now you’ve finished your “making love” perfume…’ He let the words hang in the air between us.

  ‘It’s love, just love of home,’ I said through gritted teeth. It was one thing to be slightly smitten by a man but quite another to give into it. So my brain might have been on vacation around him at times, that wasn’t exactly my fault.

  ‘OK, your love of home perfume is done so you can join us for dinner?’ Us? It surprised me he was part of the ensemble at dinner.

  ‘Quite possibly.’ No chance.

  ‘That’s not a yes.’

  ‘I’ve had a big week, and to be honest I’d rather not spend any more time with some of the contestants. It’s nothing personal, just self-preservation.’

  ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘On Sunday we’ll go to Dans Le Noir. How does eight o’clock sound?’

  ‘But what if I get sent home Monday?’ I saw no point talking shop if I was going home. It would be more devastating to know what I was missing out on.

  ‘What if you don’t?’

  The phone buzzed again, and this time he picked it up. ‘See you Sunday, Del. I’ll come up to your apartment to escort you.’ He nodded goodbye and then spoke into the phone leaving me no choice but to leave.

  As I crept away, his words carried down the hall. ‘…the management team are ready, and my uncle will take over…’ There was a pause as though someone had interrupted him. ‘…I’ll stay for the duration of the competition because I promised I would but then I’m free and I mean it, I want to be left alone.’

  Surprise knocked me sideways. He was leaving Leclére Parfumerie for good? Why? What kind of person would desert a thriving business such as theirs? Didn’t he want to continue his father’s legacy?

  The first perfumery masterclass was about to start, so I hurried back the lab, mind spinning. What would happen to Leclére Parfumerie without Vincent and his son? Aurelie wasn’t a perfumer… Aside from his uncle no one else in the family was involved. Surely the business would lose its lustre without Sebastien? Part of me wanted to shake the man!

  Notepad and pencil whipped from my bag, I raced into the room, sure my emotions were clearly showing on my face, only to find I was the last to arrive. All eyes landed like laser beams on me. I managed a flustered smile. ‘Hey,’ I said to no one in particular and then made a show of writing in my book.

  He wanted to leave?

  Maybe the pressure had got to him, the expectation. Leaving, abandoning the perfumery would be a mistake on his part, I was dead certain of it. Grief made people do strange things, and I bet later he’d regret this decision. But what could I do about it? Who was I to him in the scheme of things – no one, that was who. In my heart of hearts, I knew I had to try and help or I’d never forgive myself.

  Clementine sidled over. ‘Finally found a French lover ’ave we?’

  I blanched and said too quickly, ‘No!’

  ‘Ooh la la, what a shame. Last night I met a man, but he was, ’ow you say it, a little on the small side.’

  My eyebrows shot up. ‘Clementine!’

  ‘What? I don’t like a man who is skinnier than me.’

  ‘Oh.’ I shook my head. ‘I thought you meant—’

  She nudged me with her hip. ‘You ’ave a dirty mind, Del. I knew you weren’t as innocent as you seemed.’

  I was saved by the master perfumer entering the room. All eyes turned to Jacques Monpellier, French perfumer to the stars, infamous for his love of women and fast cars, but renowned just the same. His perfumes were extravagant and audacious and I was keen to learn from him.

  Everyone quieted down, everyone except Clementine that was.

  ‘I’ve booked us a table at the Moulin Rouge tonight. You’ll come, oui?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll come if you stop talking so I can listen now.’ I held up a hand to stop the inevitable Pah! and she closed her mouth. There was no way her invitation was genuine, I knew she wanted information, but I could play the game just as well as she could…

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shrugging deeper into my coat, I took in the spectacle in front of me, the famous red windmills of the Moulin Rouge. At night the red neon lit up the façade and people streamed past, stopping to take photos. The red-light district was a must-see, Clementine said, and I was happy to escape the apartment and leave the pressure and worry behind. Kathryn joined us and they reminisced about their days as perfumery students.

  ‘We used to get into so much trouble,’ Clementine laughed. ‘But somehow we always got good marks.’

  ‘You were sleeping with the teacher!’ Kathryn admonished. ‘That’s why you got good marks.’

  She laughed. ‘So I’m gifted in the boudoir, who are you to judge?’

  I wasn’t sure if they were serious or not but sleeping with the teacher seemed highly inappropriate to me. Call me a prude, but I’d want to know I was passing on my own merit, not because I was masterly between the sheets. For some inexplicable reason Sebastien popped into my mind. It would be the same, wouldn’t it, if I was interested in him? And not appropriate under the circumstances. As my mentor surely that was a conflict of interest, not to mention he was the owner of the business now, even if he was trying to leave… What a mess this
all was! I hated the thought of him making bad choices because of his grief, but not knowing him well enough to tell him so. It had been years since Nan died and I still suffered the fall out with my own perfumery and I missed her so badly, sometimes a memory took me by surprise and had me bawling into my hands all over again.

  ‘So,’ I said, shaking away the cloud in my mind and trying focus on the moment with the girls. ‘What’s the show about?’

  ‘It’s art,’ Clementine said. ‘You’ll see. You Americans always focus on les tétons,’ she sighed and cupped her bust. ‘But it’s not about that at all!’

  Les tétons could only mean one thing by Clementine’s charade. ‘I’m sure it’s quite the show.’

  ‘It’s about fashion, dance, art and the women are in charge, do you see?’

  ‘OK, you don’t have to convince me, Clementine. I’m here aren’t I?’ I really didn’t care one way or the other, I was just glad for a distraction, something that would take my mind away from perfume and all it entailed.

  Kathryn sighed and gently bumped me with her hip. ‘I’m just here to forget about the competition for a while. It’s crazy how exhausting it’s been.’

  ‘Oui,’ Clementine said. ‘And I’m just here for the men. There’s always lots of ’andsome specimens here.’ She waggled her brows suggestively. ‘And champagne.’

  ‘Champagne, now you’re talking!’ I said, and laughed. The two girls could not have been more different, and I was glad Kathryn had come along too. If Clementine took a fancy to someone at least I wouldn’t be sitting alone all night. And Kathryn, while still calculating in the competition, seemed like a nice enough person. She took her perfumery seriously, where there were times I thought Clem relied on other methods to get by and perfumery came second to that.

  Inside, music played sensually above. We were directed to a table and a bottle of champagne arrived, as waitresses spoke in rapid fire French to Clementine. Kathryn and I exchanged a look and left her to it, pouring ourselves a generous serve of bubbles while we waited for the show to start. Eventually the lights dimmed and we settled back to watch. Soon Clementine was nowhere to be found…