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At the end, I am laughing. Not as harshly or as mockingly as Sarah laughed, but in an incredulous manner all the same.
It had begun some time earlier, when I finally decided to create my first official decant. Those other experiments — failed experiments — we must not speak of them.
To get one into the other should be no problem, thought I. I will simply open the bottle, unscrew the nozzle from the sprayer, and then pour some liquid from the large container into the small sprayer.
Restrain your mirth, O experienced alchemists! How was I to know what perils Yves had in store? Carefully, I began the disassembly of the Rive Gauche bottle (though it was not glass, but I digress). I removed the sprayer button.
Now I was concerned. There didn’t seem to be any obvious way to remove the deep metal O-ring, and I did not want to damage my fragrance bottle. The aesthetics were what concerned me. I did not think of what a perfume bottle explosion could do to my kitchen or my social life until afterwards.
Then I laughed. After my careful effort, I found myself faced with a sealed and maybe pressurized bottle! How could I go any further? Old Yves had me over a barrel. So, I reassembled the bottle, remembering from my Chilton days, that assembly is never quite the opposite of removal, and secretly sprayed enough into the sprayer to fill it up. Then, once I had packaged the other samples, I sent it on its way, hoping that I had not injured any top notes in the process.
The education of a mad chemist has begun.
3 comments
February 9, 2013 at 8:39 am
I did my first “mass” decanting session a few weeks ago–13 10 mL decants. Needless to say, it was rough on my index fingers. Not to mention I smelled like 13 different desserts. I had to turn the vent on and walk away from the bathroom a few times.
The ladies over at Surrender to Chance and The Perfumed Court must adore perfumes, because I wouldn’t last a week doing what they do.
February 9, 2013 at 4:48 pm
I am impressed. I don’t think I have the coordination to do what you did, much less what the masochists at those two sites do (though I’m more than willing to pay them to suffer!). It seems that there is always spillage involved in such endeavors, as my sink smelled like Rive Gauche for days afterwards, and I don’t remember explicitly spilling anything. I can definitely see what you’re saying. Thirteen Different Desserts would be a great name for a band.
February 18, 2013 at 9:11 am
It’s called Jessica Simpson: Dessert Treats XD