rosewater: 25 posts

Let me shower you with rose petals today. On second thought, as far as I’m concerned, roses are too good to be left only for Valentine’s Day, and whenever I can, I indulge in a bit of pink petal fantasy. Rose perfumes are great to daydream about summer, but my little secret is found in a kitchen cupboard. It’s a bottle of rosewater. I use it in my tea, splash it on my face and sprinkle the bed sheets for a delicious finale to my day. If you want everything coming up roses, it’s hard to resist its honeyed perfume.

Rosewater is the by-product of rose oil production. When the rose petals are steam distilled, the watery substance (hydrosol) that remains behind after the essential oil is removed still has a rich scent. It’s prized for its cosmetic and flavor properties, and genuine rosewater smells like a walk through a blooming garden. Commercially, it’s biggest use is in skincare and flavors. In food, it’s not only used for candy and desserts; a rose accent can add an intriguing layer of flavor to a savory dish.

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Do you wear perfume to bed? What is your favorite scented nightgown?

When asked what she wore to bed, Marilyn Monroe answered, ” five drops of Chanel No 5.” The idea was so sultry and thrilling that the sales of Chanel No 5 skyrocketed in response. No 5 sounds interesting as a scented nightgown, but nothing beats a splash of rosewater or orange blossom water for me. Their delicate scent is soothing, and both waters are excellent for the skin.

I also love simple scents like Annick Goutal Rose Splendide or Le Muguet. Jo Malone Vintage Gardenia starts as spicy and sparkling, but the drydown of musk and vanilla is comforting.  While Penhaligon’s Violetta lacks the sensual twist of Marilyn’s favorite perfume, it helps me wind down after a long, stressful day.

Photography by Bois de Jasmin

The first thing that I found interesting about Brussels was not its Manneken Pis mascot (chalk it up to the uniquely Bruxellois sense of fun) and not even the common sight of beer drinking at 8am (chalk it up to the grey weather). It was the dense concentration of beauty and hair salons. Every street, whether elegant or run down, has several of them, ranging from omnipresent franchises like Olivier Dachkin to tiny hole in the wall places that look like someone’s living room. Judging by the perfectly coiffed and perfumed grandmothers, age has no bearing on the desire to be beautiful.

The women in my family take their beauty rituals seriously, but spas and luxury salon treatments rarely tempt them. Ask my mom or my grandmother about their tips for silky hair or luminous skin, and you will get a lecture, along with handwritten recipes. My great grandmother left behind several thick notebooks filled with beauty and health advice. Nothing can inspire me to take better care of myself than leafing through the yellowing pages that smell of vanilla and sawdust and wondering if as a young woman, my great grandmother really made hair masks of egg yolks and cognac and rubbed her hands with cucumber juice, as she advises in her delicate, loopy handwriting. The recipe I follow most often is a simple almond oil treatment. The note next to it says, “will make your skin as lustrous as mother of pearl,” and it was all the incentive I needed to go to the store and buy a bottle.

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One evening my husband and I strolled through the Beguinage in Leuven, a university town in the Flemish part of Belgium. Beguinages (or begijnhofs as they are called in Dutch) were medieval lay sisterhoods in which women led lives of piety and charity without taking permanent vows. At best, the Catholic church had an ambivalent attitude towards the beguines. Women weren’t supposed to have this much freedom or to exist independently from male control. The sisterhoods were prosecuted and labeled as heretics, but despite all of this they maintained their order. Belgium had the highest number of beguinages in the world, and about 30 remain today (albeit non-functioning). If the desire to live free from men counts, then the beguines might very well represent the earliest form of the women’s movement.

Although today Leuven’s Beguinage is a UNESCO heritage site housing university students and faculty, there is an aura of serenity pervading its narrow streets. The setting sun tints the grey cobblestones a rich gold and plays on the still water in the canals. The swallows paint delicate arabesques over the sky, making me strain my neck as I admire their graceful spins. The red geraniums spilling out of the window boxes give off their dusty metallic scent, and each tiny streets ends in a small secret garden awash in roses and privet. The beguines may have vanished, but their oasis of quiet beauty remains. Continue reading →

My ideal weekend would be spent reading or watching my favorite movies, but since we moved to Belgium my routine has been completely upended. Our apartment is so tiny that even the most minimalist notions of privacy are compromised–this is further compounded by the transparent bathroom door. To escape our weird living situation we’re taking lots of weekend trips. Belgium is a small country, but its size belies its impressive diversity. The travel distances are ridiculously short, especially by American standards, and if you are here as a tourist, I highly recommend renting a car and seeing the country this way.

A couple of weeks ago we were once again on the road going south. Belgium is divided into two regions; the Dutch-speaking Flanders spread out to the north, and the French-speaking Wallonia to the south. The line that bisects the country at Brussels may be imaginary, but it’s easy enough to get your bearings. Once the street signs start appearing shorter you’ll know that you’re in French-speaking Wallonia. Dutch, like German, has a tendency to fuse several words together in a string that looks unpronounceable to me.

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