I Created a Monster. And She Loves It.

You created a monster.

Tair Yosef

She says this to me quite often.
Usually with a smile. Sometimes while smelling yet another fragrance. And occasionally while looking at something she would never have considered spending money on two years ago.
And the funny thing is, she’s probably right.

But let me start from the beginning.

We’ve known each other for two years. Our story hasn’t exactly been a straight line. There have been ups and downs, moments of closeness, and moments when life took us in different directions.
For most of that time, we weren’t officially a couple. Only a week ago did we finally give our relationship that title.
But long before she became my girlfriend, she had already become very familiar with another significant part of my life.

My perfume collection.

Over the past year, she spent a great deal of time at my place. And when you’re surrounded by bottles of Roja, Louis Vuitton, Boadicea the Victorious, and countless other fragrances, curiosity eventually gets the better of you.
Especially when the person next to you is slightly obsessed with all of them.
At first, it was simple.
She would smell something, tell me whether she liked it, and move on.
Some fragrances impressed her immediately. Others did absolutely nothing for her.
And then something interesting started happening.
Fragrances she hadn’t particularly enjoyed began to make sense. She started noticing details that had previously escaped her. A certain note, a change in the drydown, the way a fragrance developed differently on skin.
Not everything changed, of course.
There are perfumes she disliked two years ago and still dislikes today.
And I love that.
Because somewhere along the way, she stopped being someone who simply smelled my perfumes and became someone who genuinely understood what she was smelling.
Today, her nose is remarkably developed.
She can recognize notes without me telling her what they are. She notices nuances, makes comparisons, and forms opinions that are entirely her own.
Sometimes we agree. Sometimes we don’t.
And believe me, she has absolutely no problem telling me when she thinks a fragrance isn’t particularly impressive.
Which, considering how seriously I take my collection, can lead to some rather entertaining conversations.

But the real trouble?
It didn’t stop with perfume.

Somewhere along the way, I introduced her to my Jacques Marie Mage sunglasses.
Beautiful frames, exceptional craftsmanship, extraordinary attention to detail.
At first, they were just sunglasses.
Then she started noticing the weight, the materials, the finishing, the way a well-made frame feels in your hands and sits on your face.
And suddenly, ordinary inexpensive sunglasses didn’t feel quite the same anymore.
Then came clothing.
Fabrics. Cuts. Construction. The little details most people never think about.
Things she might once have walked past without a second glance became things she wanted to examine, understand, and experience.
And then there was wine.
I was the one who first introduced her to truly good wines, opening the door to a fascinating world of grapes, regions, aromas, and flavors.
But here’s the amusing part.
Somewhere along the way, she took that interest far beyond anything I had imagined. She began studying wine seriously, and through her work, developed genuine knowledge and expertise.
So while I may have been the one who introduced her to the world of wine, these days, that world belongs far more to her than it does to me.
I opened the door. She practically took ownership of the vineyard.
And honestly? I couldn’t be happier about it.
And that’s when she started accusing me of creating a monster.
A monster who wants to smell more fragrances.
Try more things.
Discover more brands.
Understand why one piece feels different from another.
And, perhaps most dangerously, who now knows exactly what she’s missing when something doesn’t meet her expectations.
I find the whole thing hilarious.
Because I recognize that feeling so well.
I remember when perfume was simply something I wore because I liked the smell. Before I started chasing particular notes, exploring unfamiliar houses, comparing compositions, and wondering what else might be out there.
Once that curiosity takes hold, it becomes very difficult to satisfy.
There’s always another fragrance to discover.
Another interpretation of a familiar note.
Another experience that makes you reconsider what you thought you knew.
And now I get to watch someone I care about experience that same journey.
Not as a copy of mine, but as her own.
That’s probably my favorite part of all this.
I didn’t teach her which fragrances she should love. I simply gave her the opportunity to experience them.
Her preferences, her opinions, and her increasingly demanding nose developed naturally.
And although she likes to blame me for her new standards, I suspect she enjoys every minute of it.
There’s also something rather wonderful about sharing a passion with someone who understands why a fragrance can occupy your thoughts long after you’ve washed it off.
Someone who doesn’t find it strange when you want to smell the same perfume for the tenth time, just to catch something you missed before.
Someone who can disagree with you about a fragrance and make the conversation even more interesting.
After two years of knowing each other, and only one week of officially being together, I can’t pretend to know exactly what the future holds for us.
But I do know that watching her discover this world has been one of the unexpected pleasures of our story.
She says I created a monster.
Maybe I did.
But if you ask me, the most beautiful thing about this particular monster is that she has developed a mind, a nose, and a taste entirely of her own.
And somewhere along the way, I realized something else.
The monster now has two heads.
And now?
I have a feeling we’re both going to need a lot more shelf space.