Unscentable By Jennifer Francis Novels & Stories

It is the kind of beauty that is annoying precisely because it is impossible to ignore. Her heart beats faster when the wind carries his scent to her. That fragrance affects her in a way she can barely explain, as though every note carries a memory, a silent longing, an absence. It is a scent that leaves her dizzy because she knows it will never linger on her own skin. No matter how much she wants it to, he will never be hers. And somehow, it is as though one note of that fragrance is made of a nearly imperceptible sadness, revealing just how badly she longs for something unattainable. That is why she wants to avoid him. Seeing him like this leaves her breathless and sends her heart racing.

For a second she felt like she just stepped into a heaven. She hates to admit it but she loved the smell very much and she also hated the fact that her step sister is the one who created this smell. The bitch is born with the rare talent of creating unique fragrances. Fuck her and her talent. She rubbed her nose as if she wanted to wipe off the smell and approached the reception. The receptionist of course didn’t allow her to meet Matilda as she didn’t have an appointment but Natalie pestered the poor receptionist to inform Matilda about her arrival.

Antoine watched Camille, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. Camille’s emotions surged, and tears began to roll down her cheeks, salty and bittersweet. How long had it been since she last remembered the scent of her mother’s lily of the valley? How long had it been since she felt the vibrant essence of fragrance, the subtle bond between scent and memory? 'Muse' didn’t just analyze the scent—it awakened a corner of her mind she thought lost forever. It allowed her to 'see' images again, to 'hear' sounds, and to feel the delicate stirrings of emotions she believed had disappeared for good.

Thank God she wasn’t a handbag freak but instead was practical and low maintenance when it came to accessories. Max left Johnny to do his job and headed to her bedroom to fix the equipment. Her perfume lingered. Delicate, creamy. The white bottle sat on her dresser—Juliette has a Gun: Sunny Side Up—Max bet his bottom dollar that Evans would find a way to re-purchase this scent. She had only one, which meant this was a signature scent.

Scarlett resolutely refused. After that, Scarlett turned to leave. Right then, she ran into the last person she felt like seeing. It was Jennifer and Claire. They were walking towards her. “Wow… what the fuck? It really is my lucky day, isn’t it?” Scarlett frowned and muttered under her breath. “Don’t talk like that! You are a mother now!” Francis urged. As they came closer, Jenifer ignored Scarlett completely. Instead, she went straight up to Francis. She extended her palm to shake Francis’s hand and said, “Well, what a lovely coincidence, Mr. Sandler. Fancy meeting you here.”

The scent of her perfume still lingered in my office, cloying and heavy. I thought of Eloise, of her quiet resilience and trembling strength. I thought of Lucian, too blinded by regret and guilt to see the truth unravelling at his feet. And then I thought of Jennifer, so desperate to win a war she’d never been invited to fight in the first place. As I opened my eyes, staring at the city that never slept, a weary sadness settled in my chest. “She’ll ruin everyone around her before she’s satisfied,” I whispered to no one.

The foreign perfumer said, “But… Even after thinking very hard, I still can’t figure out what scent it is. Ms. Jones, would you please grant me the answer?” His words calmed Gabriel down. All the cameras and perfumers turned their attention to Melanie, waiting expectantly for the answer regarding her surprising fragrance. Melanie said, “The scent everyone’s so curious about isn’t the traditional kind many are familiar with. I just collected the scent of my friend.” “Is it your boyfriend?” one reported asked excitedly after a few moments of silence. Everyone could sense gossip in the air. The perfumers on stage began to tease her. “No wonder the fragrance you made is so pure and moving, Ms. J

I thought inwardly, and walked to the far end and sniffed, but I couldn't smell her. "What's wrong? Can't you smell her again?" Justin asked, his face furrowed in a puzzle. He walked and stood beside me. "I don't know. I can't seem to perceive her scent any longer. I don't know what's wrong?" I slapped my forehead. Everything is just happening like a film; a very badly and poorly written script acted by the worst characters on earth, and watching it alone is freaking the hell out of me. The scene is confusing, even when I try to recall and process everything; I still can't understand.

I say as I peer through the boutique’s glass windows. I gently slide open the door and step inside, immediately hit by the thick scent of fabric, perhaps even too strong. My eyes sweep across the space before me. The senator's attire, which I had seen through the glass windows, was impressive, but these perfectly arranged outfits on the racks were breathtaking. Who’s here?" I call out. “Helloooo?" I repeat, this time with more irritation. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to Ere’s Scent." A soft, almost shy voice replies from somewhere in the boutique.

[note to QI: above line says perfume too, so I kept this neutral/vague by changing to liquid] She then glared at me and asked, "Did you tamper with the perfume, Helena?" I shrugged my shoulders, looking completely innocent. "What on earth are you talking about? Why don't I understand what you're getting at, Queenie? Is it possible that your perfume has simply gone bad?" Queenie asked through gritted teeth, "Didn't you realize that the person who uses this perfume can't actually smell it? How did the perfume I gave you end up on my vanity, Helena?"