taste my (vanilla flavored) left foot

Is it wrong that I want to taste like vanilla cookies?

I know, I know. I'm back on the food topic again. But only peripherally today. The topic of conversation is not food specifically. It's about me and my wish to simulate certain aspects of food to those around me. As I said before, I want to taste and smell like vanilla.

Preferably french vanilla.

I've always been vaguely intrigued by this idea. Ever since youth I've been drawn to the idea of perfume. I thought it surely one of the greatest inventions. Being largely Scandanavian, I don't sweat much and even when I do I really don't emit much of a smell. If it weren't for the fact that my hair is so fine it would collect lots of oil otherwise, I might not need to shower very often. And don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. My genetic lot in life is for the most part quite satisfactory. But the fact that I don't have a lot of inherant smell meant I wanted one. Unlike most unfortunate smellies who wish only to purge themselves of their natural odors, I was obsessed with the idea of creating an Adrienne aroma. A scent that one would intrinsically connect with me. So despite being on the whole a rather ungirly girl I got into this aspect of makeupdom quite young.

It was a pursuit aided by my grandmother, the original queen of makeup. My grandmother has no eyebrows because in her youth it was fashionable to pluck them out and draw them back in with a pencil. Eventually, the poor eyebrows just stop trying. My mom's mother would give my sister and I perfume all the time for birthdays or christmas or even for no reason at all. I would slather myself in these scents: Emerald Musk, Amber Evening, Misty Rose and a variety of other fragerances that sounded like the names of soap opera characters, much to my mother's dismay. I think eventually someone pointed out that perhaps I was applying the prescious liquid from the tiny little vials a bit too heavily. Which made me actually take stock of whether I really liked any of these smells or not. And I realized that I didn't. They stunk.

Up until that point I had the simplistic idea that perfume = smells good. This was perfume, ergo I must be a fantastic nasal orgy for everyone around me. And if a little perfume = smells a little good, a lot of perfume should by rights make me smell even better. Should not goodness of smell be contained only by the amount of it one can acheive? Aparently, as my mom later revealed to me, Emerald Musk, Amber Evening, and Misty Rose didn't smell very good even when applied in small doses. It seemed I had learned that one had to be a bit more discerning in choosing one's scent.

So rather than take someone else's opinion on the matter I decided to decide for myself what the best smell was. The lilac bushes in the backyard were an paradise of scent. The more I smelled them the more of them I wanted to smell. Unfortunately, their delicate blossoms did not stand up to the test of being mashed into a purple pulp and then rubbed all over my neck. I found after performing such an operation I smelled only of generic dead plant mass. Same, it would seem for all of the flowers in the backyard. Berries were sticky, and I found fruit flavors rather cloying anyway. I liked mint in theory but the only source for the smell I had was toothpaste and even then I knew experiments with the tube would turn out badly. Chocolate also presented a clear problem in terms of mess. But lo and behold in the kitchen cabinets I found a tiny vial of vanilla extract. The magic brown liquid that I always watched go into cookie dough in tiny amounts. That bottle smelled like what I can only hope heaven does. And it seems from that moment forward, my loyal nature being what it is, I have stayed true to my scent.

I love vanilla in all forms, tea, ice cream, cookie, you name it I'll eat it. It's so comforting and soft a smell. Even in large doses it just doesn't know how to overpower. And I've found that one can get lotions, perfumes, shampoos, lipsticks, room fresheners, roll-on body stick, deoderant, face cream, foot scrubs, nail polish and on and on ad naseum in the scent of vanilla. I've come across a few that are particularly realistic to the true thing. I won't give away my trade secrets here, lest someone wish to simulate my presence and just buy the bottle my ambiance comes in, but suffice to say a mix of a couple vanilla inspired products and you basically have patented me. I will say however, the words French in front of the V-word will tend to put you on the right track.

In any event, once I found my scent I was rather pleased with myself. Ha, I thought. I can now forever be linked with one of the best smells ever. I claim vanilla for Adrienne. But the problem with store bought smells is they have to be applied via lotion or spray. And the problem with vanilla is it tends to remind one of things you want to taste. So vanilla applied via an alcohol spritz is a bit of a tease, a wolf in sheeps clothing. Because best case scenario you smell a mirage. My odor leads you nowhere, rendering your poor soul a wandering knight in the forest of scent with nary a vanilla bean touched taste bud in sight.

And I don't want to do that to you.

But I was talking to a friend the other day and she told me that there is a little jar you can buy. In this jar is a powder and the powder contains both the power of smell and taste. So when you put this on yourself and someone bites you, you taste like the thing you smell like. Fantastic... So I'll end with a return to my original question. Is it weird that I want to taste like a vanilla flavored product? Is this some strange desire to be consummed? What does that mean? Why can't things just be simple. Simple and sweet. Simple and sweet and bean derived.

Like vanilla.