Cloud Or Tail

As a writer, I have tried to write about perfume many times. In the end, I always think that what I'm trying to say is too simple, too silly. It comes down to this: I once met a girl – one of those almost-friends – who wore some designer scent that was so wild and intoxicating that I spent years after our almost-friendship ended searching for it.  Because I knew nothing about perfume, and had never coveted another’s fragrance, my search was haphazard and mainly involved trying to remember a smell that had long since passed from my life whilst sniffing at random bottles and potions that looked like they might have approximated her stench.  In my quest, I went to all the usual places. All the fanciest shops. I walked through those aisles of refined flowers and fruits, not once encountering that smell. Or I thought I didn’t. However, sometimes I wonder if I did, but I didn’t recognise it.  I know I could probably write to her. Say something embarrassing like, "Hey, I know this is a weird question, but what perfume do you wear?" Or maybe I should be more specific: "What perfume did you wear in early 2017?" in case she has changed her perfume since our almost-friendship. Notwithstanding the question, I imagine she wouldn’t reply. I know I have ignored less weird letters from dearer people, because life is that way. Important questions go unasked; also unanswered.  But even if she defied my expectations and replied, and I found her smell and did something strange like buy it, do I really think it would be the same?  I suppose it might be. But then there would also be a sense of lostness and weirdness about it – the smell unchanged, and yet so different from that earlier time when it was just a cloud of unmarked scent.  Either way, she smelled so good. I don’t even dare explain it.