Plum and Blue

For today’s post with my violet cardigan playing with violets in the garden, I feel the need to tell you about the smell of violets and why they remind me so much of Paris and London. My great grandmother (the one who taught me to pronounce Grand Prix) used to have violets growing in her garden. She passed away when I turned 8, but when I turned 18, my friends Erin and Ashley bought me a bag of purple things because purple was my favourite colour at the time. In that bag was a small tube of violet perfume.

It wasn’t anything expensive. It was just a little pump of pure violet. At first I didn’t use it, but it did remind my of my British great grandmother and that was wonderful. I do like to wear perfume when I travel, though. Each trip I try to take a new perfume so that when I wear that perfume later on it makes me think of that time travelling. My sister and I had a trip to Paris and London planned and I needed a perfume, so I packed this particular violet fragrance.

It was a magnificent trip. We started with a tour of Buckingham Palace, followed by High Tea at Fortnum and Mason. My sister was recovering from the same surgery I’ve just had and we had to take things slow. This made for some lazy and long climbs of Montmarte and St Pauls Cathedral. We made a point of visiting spots we simply had to go to, but left ourselves time to wander and just ‘be’ in the places we were visiting.

If I’m being honest, my sister is my absolute best friend but we often drive each other nuts. If there is one thing I’ve learned about family and those friends you love the most, it’s that you love each other so deeply that arguments can in no way diminish that love. We argued about where to go, whether to rest or keep going, what was worth visiting. We stayed in a queen bed together in a couple of cute little hotels. She’s an early riser and I’m a night owl. All those differences didn’t matter though, because I remember her face lit up by the streetlights near the Louvre and her smile next to me at the Wolseley. I remember her perfect bum on the seat of a bicycle riding in front of me, the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance. I remember her calling the waiter for another cocktail at The Ritz in London. All those memories come flooding back to me as soon as I smell violets.

When I lived in Perth I would sometimes wear the violet perfume to make me feel less homesick, but on one unfortunate day the small glass vial shattered on the bathroom tiles. Because it’s such a simple perfume, I’ve never been able to find a replacement. So for now, if I ever smell violets in the garden, I remember Paris and London and my sister. So it’s a bit of a treat that she bought me orchids and a bunch of violets as a ‘sorry you had to go through surgery’ present. ☺