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I grew up in a small village in West Yorkshire. It is a quirky place for sure. Known as ‘God’s Own Country’ much of the dialect has its roots in Old English and Old Norse. The landscape is as broad as the accents here and much of my youth was spent in museums and countryside parks. Christmas was accented with Yorkshire Puds, gravy, turkey, and cranberry sauce washed down with cups of tea in Pyrex cups. Hardly the stuff of fine cuisine, it had its own charm, nonetheless. Usually, large stretches of the country would be covered in snow and whilst my father on Christmas Eve would be snoozing on the sofa after a whiskey chaser too many, my mother would be regaling friends and family with tales of the Brontes and Wuthering Heights. I guess my father could be considered quite the Heathcliff, a bit brash and to the point he was someone you could laugh with but never push too far in conversation.

Church by Karl.

Midnight Mass in West Yorkshire was a prerequisite. The church back then would be filled to the rafters and the community would gather to sing hymns whilst the priest would offer up a sermon of change and goodwill. My fondest memories of it being the smoke of frankincense which always had pride of place in liturgy. The ideology of incense wafting in Catholic liturgies symbolises sanctification and purification. Ironic when casting my mind back to when my mother would be fully immersed in the prayers given up for the faithful, my father would regularly nod off during the service much to her annoyance and receive a timely dig in the ribs to wake him and remind him of his disobedience to the highest. Post mass would usually involve singing carols and enjoying the odd glass of Mulled Wine with the congregation in the social room.

Karl with is mum Joan in the early 80s

Our home was always decorated with white and gold ornaments. Indeed, my mother always took great care in matching white feathers with fairy lights and even the tree was white. We even had a pure marble model of the pieta above the fireplace. There would be a crib in full view of visitors and the golden baubles on the tree would perfectly reflect the picture frames holding images of famous Renaissance paintings with religious symbolism. All through my youth I often wondered why our home was so bright, the settees cream with a sheepskin always centred on the floor. It is only now in retrospect that I found out from my mother’s best friend that because of her upbringing prior to being adopted that she would spend Christmas Day in a dingy cellar with no light available. So, it makes perfect sense that she would want to have the utmost light available in her own home.

Karl’s mum Joan, dad and West Yorkshire memories by Karl

My mother was known as Snow White, both for her porcelain appearance and raven hair. Presentation was hugely important to her; always dressed in white furs, snowball Russian hat and matching pearl earrings she was instantly recognisable in the town centre and respected for her politeness wherever she went. Her idol was Audrey Hepburn. She loved the class and style and slight naivety of her and seemed to sense a kindred spirit. Christmas festivities would always include going hosting afternoon tea with her friends and the scent of roulade mingling with sandwiches and other sweet delicacies and a fizz of snowball cocktails (Advocaat, lemonade, and fresh lime) were commonplace.

My parents were a juxtaposition in terms of fragrance too. His signature aftershave was always Quorum by Antonio Puig, created by Carlos Benaim, Max Gavarry and Rosendo Mateu, it launched in 1981, and he wore it religiously. Given my father’s penchant for cigars, whiskey and leather high shine shoes combined with his gregarious nature, it was a perfect match. The ultra-alpha – putting hairs on your chest fragrance! My mother always wore Miss Dior since being first bought it by her dear Aunt Mary back in the early 1960s. Like her style her fragrance of choice was first class. As we all know, the original was a beautiful floral chypre and it remained her signature scent throughout her life.

I dedicate this feature article to my mother Joan. For her endless positivity and joy. I would like to wish all our readers the very best for the festive season, a Merry Christmas and thank you for all your support. 2022 has been my first-year writing for CaFleureBon and I wish to personally thank Michelyn for the opportunity to share my fragrant thoughts and hope there are many more to come.

Karl Topham Senior Editor