Talking about Maria Nina Ricci, well, that name takes me back. Not Maria specifically, but Nina Ricci. It mostly makes me think of that one perfume, you know the one. L’Air du Temps. With the doves on the bottle.
I first bumped into it ages ago. Wasn’t something I went looking for. My grandmother, she had a bottle sitting on her dresser for years. Looked fancy, that swirly glass thing with the birds on top. As a kid, I just thought it was a weird decoration.
My First Real Sniff
Didn’t actually smell it properly until I was much older, probably helping clear things out. Found that same bottle, still half full. Gave it a little spray. Whoosh. It was… a lot. Very flowery, kind of powdery? Not like the stuff people wear now, all sweet or smelling like the ocean.
Here’s how it went down:
- Found the bottle, looked dusty but okay.
- Curiosity got the better of me. Sprayed a tiny bit on my wrist.
- Instantly recognisable, even though I’d never consciously smelled it before. Funny how memory works.
- It smelled like… well, like my grandmother’s house. Old paper, furniture polish, and this strong floral scent underneath.
It wasn’t really ‘me’. Felt like wearing someone else’s coat, you know? Too formal, maybe too classic. Stuck around for ages, though. That stuff had staying power, I’ll give it that.
Why I’m Even Thinking About This
You might wonder why I’m rambling about old perfume. It’s tied to a weird memory, actually. It reminds me of this one specific summer. My grandmother was still around, quite sharp back then. I’d just had a real rough patch, lost a job I thought was gonna be my big break. Moved back home for a bit, feeling pretty low.
Grandma wasn’t the type for big emotional talks. Never was. But one afternoon, she was getting ready to go out somewhere, probably meeting her friends for cards. She put on her usual bit of L’Air du Temps. The smell filled the hallway.
She just looked at me, fiddling with her handbag, and said, “Things change. Sometimes they get worse, sometimes better. You just keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Then she patted my arm and left. Didn’t mention the job, didn’t offer advice I didn’t ask for. Just that.
That smell, that moment. It stuck with me more than any pep talk could have. It wasn’t about the perfume itself, really. It was about her, about that quiet resilience. The perfume was just part of the background track to that memory.
So yeah, Nina Ricci. For me, it’s not about high fashion or fancy scents. It’s that dusty bottle on the dresser and my grandmother telling me to just keep walking. Funny the things that stick with you, isn’t it?
