❤ I can't always make up my mind, but I am boldly undecided. ❤

20 January 2012


Cause of ambivalence:

Note contents:
"Chère délicieuse effluve que je croise parfois sur mon chemin, tu m'enivres à chaque fois et me rappelles une radieuse après-midi de décembre à Tolède... Je déteste que tu ne sois qu'un parfum commercial et chimique."

Place left:
Sous l'assiette à pain de la table voisine dans un bistro gastronomique à Rimouski.

A French speaking friend sent me this little note this week and gave me full permission to translate it for the blog.  However, there are words such as "effluve" (which is a much more beautiful way of saying scent or smell) that just don't exist in the English language.  Therefore, I wont attempt to translate her words, but will instead paraphrase the ambivalent sentiment expressed.  This particular ambivalence was directed at a familiar scent that evoked sweet memories of a December afternoon in Toledo, yet the delight is somewhat tarnished by the fact that perfume in question is nothing more than a commercial chemical blend.  This moment is a reminder of the impact of popular media's use of romantic love as an aggressive advertizing tool, and the tense dissatisfaction that results from allowing oneself to be duped by these strategically manufactured fantasies.  In this particular case, the mere inclusion of a mass manufactured product in a genuine moment is almost retroactively spoiling  the memory of it.  I wonder how different love would smell if we weren't so constantly bombarded with commercially packaged romance?

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