Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end?

—Nelly Furtado, “All Good Things (Come to an End)” (2006)

The final story is one of me,
Who with four minutes left has used up three,
I think of you, I think of me,
Then I think of nothing, it’s the end, you see

—Mark Owen, “Four Minute Warning” (2003)

… It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine

—R.E.M., “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” (1987)

OK, I’m being a little dramatic. The only thing that has ended for me today is my bottle of Masque Milano Ray-Flection. It’s the first bottle of perfume that I’ve finished since falling down the perfumery rabbit hole over 4.5 years ago. Even so, it was only 35 mL.

I blame the nozzle. See, Ray-Flection was a love at first sniff in the winter of 2021 because to my nose, it smelled of black tea and dried fruits. It was one I kept going back to, intrigued. It got me a compliment in my early days of going back to the office in person occasionally, after Omicron. It got me rejected by puppies at said office… which challenged, but didn’t break, my love for it.

Around that time, the nozzle—which had been delivering unusually long, satisfying, sweeping sprays since the beginning—started getting clogged. I swapped it out with a similar one from another perfume bottle, and that one got clogged too, after a few uses. Strange, because Ray-Flection is not a thick liquid. Determined, I soaked both nozzle caps in isopropyl alcohol for days or weeks in hopes of dissolving the clog. The mixture of isopropyl alcohol, plastic, and perfume didn’t smell good. I was beginning to understand the sentiment of the puppies.

When I tried spraying again, it turned out the alcohol had done little to help. However, something had changed, because Ray-Flection didn’t smell quite the same. Perhaps some alcohol had gone into the bottle along with air from the pumping action. In any case, I switched to yet another nozzle—from a Le Labo travel spray, which has a much bigger hole and shorter distance to pump. Instead of a gentle line of mist, it was now a quick blast. But this one didn’t get clogged!

This created a mental loose end for me: an empty travel spray vial waiting for its nozzle cap to be restored so it could be put away. As such, I really wanted to use up the bottle… so I wore Ray-Flection a lot over the past couple of months, even though hot weather was not the most suitable. It did start to smell more like the listed notes of mimosa and beeswax, though (other notes include mandarin, aldehydes, cardamom, violet leaf, “solar rays accord,”…)

That is, when I could smell it. My nose got accustomed to it quickly, and even with generous sprays, I had to constantly sniff at my clothes to remind myself that it was there and therefore not wasted. I could more easily detect smaller amounts of new smells (perfume or raw materials) around me over the scent of Ray-Flection.

Ironically, while Ray-Flection was my most-worn perfume last year for the love of it, it will be my most-worn perfume this year as well… for the sake of using it up. It had a good run.

At the beginning of the year, I made myself wear a different perfume each day, and soon I was missing my old favorites. In this latest self-imposed arbitrary adventure, I made myself wear the same perfume most days (but at most 4 days in a row), and I’ve been missing my old favorites, as well as variety. So, today is a bit of a relief.

Closing time, every new beginning
Comes from some other beginning’s end

—Semisonic, “Closing Time” (1998)