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My first and strongest memories about perfume come from childhood, from my mother, and they are a complex blend of her private and public selves.

As a child, our house had a backyard lined with roses tended vigilantly by my mother. So the fragrance fills me with nostalgia for my youth.

I first started wearing fragrance when I was thirteen or fourteen, and the smell was candy-like. They were in very colorful bottles, like turquoise and pink. By the time I was sixteen or seventeen, it got more girly and more floral.

My childhood memories seem to be wreathed in the twin and far from harmonious olfactory sensations of patchouli oil and caustic soda.

My mom would have different fragrances for different times of the year. They were a part of her identity. I don't remember the specific ones she used, but I remember the bottles.

Yes, I always remember my dad's, mom's and my grandma's perfumes.

I've always loved to combine different scents to come up with my own unique thing.

My mother worked in a chocolate factory, so when I came home from school, I had a piece of baguette with dark chocolate in it. I remember her smelling like chocolate.

When I think of my childhood, I see my mother, the complete sixties parent, decked in purple frappe silk caftans, the acidic smell of newly stripped pine mingling with incense.

I always remember my childhood house with happy memories. There was a beautiful garden, and outside my bedroom window was a jasmine vine which would open in the evenings, giving off a divine scent.