Among the new import stores that flood Tacuba Street, in the Centro HistóricoIn the center of the building, you will find an establishment that is almost a hundred years old, its art deco letters welcome you saying "perfumería" (perfume shop). With marble walls and showcases that overlook the street and display photographs of the building through time. We are talking about the perfumery Tacuba 13, on the street of the same name.
The first step inside the store makes you experience something similar to being dazzled. Like that, but through the nose. Like colliding head-on with something invisible. It's a very strong smell, but not unpleasant. To the left are several rows of gray jars labeled according to their contents. "Lotus flower," "jasmine," "coffee aroma," "semi-solid amber." In front of me, a crowded hallway.
The store manager, Mr. Manuel, is the first person I talk to. When I tell him that I want to write about this perfumery, he is a little surprised. He is even more surprised when I add that I know nothing about perfumes.
Nearly a century of perfumery on Tacuba Street
What is now a store on Tacuba Street, not only of perfumery but also of beauty products, began as a botanical and essence establishment. This was the first place in charge of people's body odor in this city. That was almost a century ago. The city was different but the store was the same.
Manuel explains that, being a traditional perfume store, what he observes most is that perfumes - the smells - are inherited. "Here we see many fathers come with their children to buy them their first lotion, or mothers who give a first perfume to their daughters, or people who come to look for the fragrance their relatives used to wear."
Like a path that takes you back to your parents, your grandparents, or to a different time, perfumes are a map for memory. Like gestures or tone of voice, they are a way of saying where you come from and a way of communicating with the other. They are also a way of declaring belonging.
Mr. Manuel tells me that since he has been working in this business his sense of smell has become sharper, especially when he is in the store, he can no longer tolerate any smell that he considers unpleasant. And he can only use his own lotion the day he doesn't work, Sunday for him surely smells like agave, his family, a floral perfume for his wife, I imagine when in a few years he will take his son for his first lotion.
Aromatic Secrets of Perfumería Tacuba 13
As I continue to look at the signs with picturesque products, whale semen, hot cakes, he leaves. He says goodbye, telling me I can talk to a woman at the fine perfumery counter if I still have questions. Angelica is behind the counter. When I ask her how long she has been working in the perfumery area, she responds politely. "Fate brought me to work in perfumery almost twenty-five years ago," she says.
An elderly lady arrives as we speak, she asks for a perfume like the one she is holding in her hand, so she brings it close to the expert nose of the woman who has dedicated her life to perfumes. I note curiously the rupture of personal space, but also the ability to distinguish a scent in a space that is so permeated with scents, as the older lady leaves. A life given over to perfumes in exchange for a library of scents in the brain. Sounds like a good exchange.
Angelica says that "old people come to smell memories, they look for them, young people, on the other hand, look for the new, the fruity". Like the seasons, spring is youth. That perfumes stimulate the brain is proven because now I have many questions. It is difficult to choose one. Angelica seems so wise that I ask her what she thinks about perfume in general. What should we know about a woman who works and lives among them, how she convinces people what to buy, how to smell.
Is there something strange about this business, something I can't imagine? What strangeness is hidden in this perfume shop on Tacuba Street? Angelica laughs. She can't tell me something peculiarly odd, she says. "Such particular things happen every day, I couldn't keep one," she assures me. I still have doubts.
The psychology of smell
He remains silent for a few moments before returning to my questions. When she answers, the origin of perfumes comes to the surface: love. She notes, "Love is a chemical thing, that's something I've learned here, people come looking for scents to fall in love with, or looking for scents to have sex. Has it ever happened to you that you're walking along, you smell someone and you fall in love?"
I am a little surprised by his question. I think about my answer. "Yes, you don't see his face but you can smell him and once you see him, that idealization falls off, that happens a lot with smell and falling in love, if you don't like the way the person smells, that will end sooner rather than later, if on the contrary, you like the way he smells, how difficult it will be to separate". Love, the ritual of smell, relationships. Curiosity gets the better of me: do these perfumes work to attract people?
"No, how do you think, but what does happen is that when someone is convinced that that smell will work for them to get sex, many times it does happen, it's like raising their self-esteem, also that's the motivation to sell perfumes and fine scents." There is some psychology in perfumes.
The aromas of the past
I appreciate the time, wisdom and trust of both of them. They let me take pictures inside the place. I leave the perfumery, to that assault to the senses called Centro Histórico. After a few steps on Tacuba Street, I can't resist the urge to smell myself. I inhale strongly. I try to capture with my nostrils my own aroma among the smells of the city.
I remember a girl I knew when we were ten years old. Her house and she smelled like soup, it was characteristic, comfortable. I think of the smell of my mother's house, with her usual perfume and the smell of grass. I think of the first lotion my younger brother received, the look my father and I shared, as if to say "now he's grown up".
I keep walking down the street while smelling myself, which is somehow unpleasant and familiar. As I ride the subway back home I can only go sniffing, closing my eyes from time to time. Imagining the world through that smell of hairspray, sweet perfume, mascara, sweat. What would this city smell like a hundred years ago, when the Tacuba 13 perfume shop was just an idea?