I know that there are a lot of things about my life that are “stereotypically” Asian–as much as there are things about my life that are totally not “typical.” But why oh why do moth balls have to be in my life?
My mom LOVES mothballs. She’s horrified of the wrath of moths: the holes in sweaters and clothes. And so she sprinkles those little white crystallized napthalene mothballs EVERYWHERE. My parents’ home smells more like moth balls than kimchee, and I have NO idea how a moth can get within a foot of their home. Or really within a half mile. I mean, I wonder if I’ve got moth genetics because that smell makes me want to run very far away.
Still, it’s the smell of home.
And it’s on me. It’s on my clothes. It’s on my luggage. It’s on my PURSE. I smell a waft of it right now, from my purse sitting on my desk just a few feet away.
Moth balls. That’s what I smell like despite my furious spritzing of Robert Piguet’s Fracas perfume this morning.