A Rose is a Rose But Patchouli is My Fix

by

I wax philosophical about my law school days.  They were probably more akin to the experience most people have in college.  It was in law school that I first lived on my own and really began to know myself and test my mettle.  It was also when I was a groupie huge fan of Big Sun.

The lead singer of Big Sun, Joe, and I became fast friends.  He introduced me to the works of Hunter Thompson, telling me of a line from the opening scene of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas that went something like, “My attorney had taken off his shirt and was pouring beer down his chest to facilitate the tanning process.”  He thought as a would-be attorney, it was imperative that I know Thompson’s work.  He was right.

Joe often wore patchouli.  My mostly-steady boyfriend during law school (it was a long distance relationship that fit nicely with the schedule of a law student) spent a lot of time as a child in Hawaii.  He hated the smell of patchouli, saying it smelled like hippie sweat.

I began to wear Patchouli too.  I wore it mainly when I’d go out (without my beau).  I also started wearing it during finals.  It always reminded me that I had a life outside of the particular test I was taking.  I’d smell it and smile knowing that the test would be over soon enough and I’d be back in my world; that I was taking said test because it was my choice to be in law school to put my life on a path I chose for myself; that I had more facets than just the studious side.  I am not sure my classmates appreciated my approach to test-taking; patchouli isn’t a shy, dainty aroma.  But no one ever moved away from sitting near me and I wouldn’t have cared if they had.

I still have patchouli and wear it very infrequently.  I am now concerned what others will think of me when they smell it on me.  I have never worn it to the office.  I can only imagine what the other attorneys and staffers would think about me–probably that I’d gone off the deep end.

I have never worn it to the office, that is, until today.  I was still in a funk and knew finishing six tax returns really wasn’t gonna put a smile on my face.  So I resorted to a very old tactic: I wore patchouli.  I don’t know if that is why folks avoided me at work today or whether they intuitively knew I’d be grumpy since it was April 14th or whether I was overtly grumpy (a very distinct possibility). But as far as I am concerned, the patchouli did the trick of warding off being bugged.

Wearing patchouli today also reminded me that I am still that same person who found herself in law school; that I still know how to do what it takes to get through a tough spot; that I still have enough confidence to take care of myself without regard to what others will think of my ways.  And it reminded me that I still love the way patchouli smells today as much as I ever have.

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