Talking Scents: Soulful

When I think back, my very first foray into the world of perfume feels almost cinematic. I was twelve years old, somewhere in the middle of the Midwest, standing in the fluorescent glow of a drugstore aisle with a few wrinkled bills clutched in my hand. On the shelf, tucked between rainbow-colored body sprays and glittery nail polish, sat a bottle of peach-scented perfume. It was cheap, it was bright, and it called to me. I bought it without hesitation, misting it onto my wrists as if it were liquid confidence.

That little bottle wasn’t sophisticated, but it was mine. Peach was sugary, effervescent, and unapologetically loud, and somehow, it made me feel like I was stepping into a bigger version of myself. I don’t think I made a deliberate choice back then to chase fruity fragrances. If anything, I just wanted that “bright” aura they carried, a kind of optimism you could wear on your skin. Fruity scents always seemed like bottled cheer, little bursts of light that followed me like a halo.

As time passed and my world grew larger, so did my perfume choices. When I landed my first steady income, I decided to treat myself to something that felt grown-up. Clinique’s Happy was the one that captured me, though not entirely by accident. An ex-girlfriend had once brought home a tiny sample, tucked it into a drawer, and forgot about it. I didn’t. One spritz, and I was hooked.

Happy didn’t just smell good. It felt alive. To me, it was sunshine in liquid form, not just warm but crisp, bright, and impossibly radiant. It carried the kind of joy that can’t be faked, as if someone had bottled the first golden hour of summer. I wore it religiously to my very first day job, carefully applying just enough to feel like I was walking into adulthood wrapped in sunlight. In that fragrance, I felt confident, polished, and capable of handling whatever the world decided to throw my way. It was my invisible blazer, my quiet declaration: I am here, I am ready, I belong.

And now, with more years behind me and a deeper sense of myself, I have fallen for Soulful by Nanette Lepore. It does not replace those earlier perfumes. It builds on them, like a natural continuation of my own story. Peach was innocence and discovery. Happy was ambition and bright beginnings. But Soulful feels like me now: layered, luminous, and grounded.

The opening is alive with Lemon Zest and Green Apple, softened by Orange Blossom. Playful yet refined, a wink that still carries a smile. The middle unfolds into Tropical Fruits, Pink Poppy, and Soft Jasmine, a lush and feminine heart that feels like joy without effort. And then the base settles into Cashmere, White Musk, Amber Wood, and Sandalwood. Warm, velvety, and quietly powerful, like the echo of a song that lingers long after it ends.

Wearing Soulful feels less like putting on a perfume and more like inhabiting an aura. It does not sit on the skin so much as it radiates outward, weaving itself into the atmosphere around me. It is playful without being naïve, grounded without being heavy, romantic without being cloying. It is a reminder that fragrance isn’t just decoration. It is memory, mood, and transformation.

Looking back, I can trace my life in scents: the peachy exuberance of adolescence, the golden optimism of young adulthood, and now the soulful confidence of where I stand today. Perfume has never just been about smelling good. It has been about capturing who I was, who I wanted to be, and who I have become.

Until the next fragrance finds me, I’ll be chasing memories, moods, and moments — one spritz at a time.

And so, my scented memoir continues, one bottle at a time.