Dusting Powder . . . a simple rememberance

Powder and a powder puff—that’s what I wanted. To open a box of lightly-scented dusting powder and puff on the soft light scent of days gone by. I could smell the powder on my mother’s vanity; was it White Shoulders? I’m not sure, but I remember after baths, how wonderful it was to take that big soft fluffy powder puff—so elegant, so ladylike. So grown up it seemed. As the days passed, I kept thinking about it and finally, decided it was time to get some! I went online to find my brand (Diorissomo) Oh my! It was something like $175! Yikes! What happened to the old ones? Coty, White Shoulders? Windsong? There must be more. A quick online search located a Chantilly powder for around $6 at Walgreens. Perfect, I thought; I’ll stop by later. When I went in, all the powders were in a glass case. None much less than $20. I did find one—that I could open the box and see the puff; Jean Nate. I love Jean Nate body splash and have worn it since I was a teenager (and have some still). But when I opened the box, my hand instinctively went to slide beneath the satin strap on the back of the puff—but it wasn’t there. How long has it been since I slid my hand beneath one of those satin straps? 50 years? And the puff was flat, not fluffy at all. Pam and I got into a discussion about power puffs of yesterday and bubble bath and  . . . the special simple things we both remembered. The satin strap, the smell of the powders; the feeling of puffing it on—I want to get some for my granddaughters she said.  The simple things we remember.


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