Irony seems to have an outsized effect on my emotions, whether it works in my favor or the opposite. The sheer happenstance of statistical probability somehow manages to tap into some primitive reflex that wants to read into it and take it personally.

This past week, I was on vacation in London, Munich, and Berlin, in each city visiting old friends from different periods of my life. It was a bit surreal, as though I’d entered a portal connecting pasts to present, and incredibly enriching, not to mention so much fun!

While I was busy gallivanting, my package that had been stuck in customs limbo finally got released because the sender contacted customs and learned that a piece of paperwork was needed that UPS had deemed unnecessary. So that was sorted and it came on its merry way to my address on consecutive days that I would have been working from home and able to sign for it if I weren’t traveling, and despite multiple efforts from both me and the sender to release the signature or reschedule the delivery date until my return, UPS deemed the shipment ineligible for this service (even for additional payment starting at US$9.99) and promptly returned the package to the sender after 3 futile delivery attempts that we had tried to prevent in the first place. I don’t know if others have had similarly bad or worse experiences with other couriers, but right now I have a very low opinion of UPS.

On a positive and light note, the New York Times games seem to be smiling at us perfumistas recently:

While in London, we happened to go into a Paul Smith sale shop (outlet store) and I saw a 100-mL bottle of Rose in the display. I’ve heard so much about it that when they told me the price was 20 pounds, I snatched it up. “It’s rose, but it feels more masculine,” the SA said. I asked if that meant it had geranium notes. She wasn’t sure, but affirmed that it was not sweet.

It was cheaper for me to book a round-trip flight from Boston to London and travel to and from Germany separately than to book a multi-city trip, so at the end we flew from Berlin to London to catch our return flight to Boston. Already at the Berlin airport I had my carry-on luggage opened at security, presumably because of the shape of a tin of tea. At Heathrow airport in London, the luggage was fine, but something in my tray of properly contained liquids set off a further inspection.

I thought it might be because my plastic zippy bag was larger than those they had been handing out before security, but no… what the slightly perplexed, young security officer picked up to inspect was my sealed box of Paul Smith Rose. (Irony, see?) He seemed to be studying the box slowly, and I was… nervous? impatient? confused? So I blurted out, “Perfume, unopened.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied calmly.

“I bought it in London, actually,” I said.

He asked if I’d bought it outside the airport, which I confirmed, and he explained that the bottle may have looked on the x-ray like it contained more than 100 mL, and even though the packaging said it was 100 mL and it was unopened, anyone could have resealed it. “Do you mind if I open it?” he asked, sounding almost as reluctant to do it as I was to let him.

“Sure,” I said. (As he seemed friendly enough, I then asked what would happen if I said no—would he confiscate it? “I don’t know,” he replied. His supervisor, who had escorted me over, had not been friendly, so I wasn’t about to find out.)

“I just need to check its contents, but I won’t open the bottle,” he assured me.

So, the security officer proceeded to unbox my new perfume, removing the intact cellophane wrap—and then take the bottle to a machine to scan the liquid. My 100 mL of mostly alcohol was then gently replaced upside-down in the box (as he had opened the box from the bottom) and returned to me. He was very polite about the whole thing, so I didn’t begrudge him.

Now I can see why the volume looked larger, as the glass is thick at the base of the bottle. I also get what the SA meant by “masculine,” although it’s not geranium but woods that create this effect. The top notes remind me both of a good quality liquid hand soap and a cologne—it’s not surprising when I learn that they are violet, rose, and green tea. More rose and magnolia in the heart, and cedar and musks in the base. It’s definitely something I’ve smelled before.

Rose by perfumer Antoine Maisondieu is pretty straightforward, but uplifting and suitable for many occasions. I think, from now on, it will remind me of London.