Perfumer in the theater

The last time I was in a theater was probably a few years ago. When I was still a non-perfumer.
I had no idea how much watching a show is a different experience with a trained nose.

I entered the theater and the first thing that caught my nose's attention was the smell of the old seats enwrapped by old red velvet, with traces of tabac in their olfactory DNA. Missed this smell. Though I didn't know it until just now.

Since I was late, I had to take one of the places nearest to the exit. I sat down next to a woman, who wore a very distinct fragrance. Within a split of a second, in my head hundreds of memories of perfumes were replayed trying to match the fragrance just in front of my nose right that time. I got it, Kenzo Jungle. I admired a bit the harmony of how she smelled in this perfume, taking into consideration that, as far as I remember, the juice gives dog-pee on my skin...
Thank to that lady I sat next to by chance, I was 17 again. Memories bursted out so quickly, as if somebody would opened a door of a fully packed wardrobe closed for a long time.

I remembered my purple pullover, on which I sprayed Jungle for the first time. I remembered my first real boyfriend, and how we met, how he asked for my number, how he called me directly the other day, how we stayed together for 5 years after that.

I remembered high school, classes, friends, enemies, professors, the attitude we had, the attitude they had.
I remembered the feelings that marked that period of my life. I remember being careless, I remember how I felt like a "mature woman" going to school the next day after having spent the night with loosing my virginity - 3 times. I remember thinking that the whole world is mine.

Then suddenly I got back to the theater and realized that the show is about to end soon. How much time I have spent under the Jungle-coma?!

They brought a birthday cake with candles on the stage. I couldn't wait until the candles are lit. I wanted to smell the matches catching fire. I wanted to smell smoke. I wanted them to light those candles directly. They seemed to take their time, it pissed me off, I got more and more impatient, was unable to tolerate more delay.
I felt that my blood filling with adrenalin, I felt my fist clenched, I needed that smell. Now. For a reason unrevealed to me, I was hungry for smelling smoke and I remember thinking that this is probably the way vampires are longing for fresh blood.

After some torturing seconds, they finally got to their senses and lit the candles. I saw first the smoke slowly taking its territory in the air, and I started sniffing so deeply that the Kenzo lady turned to me to check if I am all right.
Then it arrived to me. Smoke. Not anything so multi-faceted like smoke out of the chimneys in winter time, nothing like a fat cigar of patchouli leaves eaten up by fire, just plain smoke. But enough to make me happy. I got my dose.

That night at the theater made me realize how I am blessed and doomed with scents forever.

It is not a passion anymore. It's a must.