Rain fell in London today.
From billiard ball black clouds water descended to make lawns lush again, tarmacadam and cobbles shiny and knock the gloss of happy moods.
Turning a corner into a familiar mews where a friend once lived, I found it made a film shoot.
Though cameras and actors had not arrived yet, lighting men were hanging glowing orbs in the sky from improbably angled cranes and other engineers were building scaffold towers for who knows what adventures.
Around the corner… vintage cars, that I remember from the first time round, gleaming like new under layers of turtle wax, making me feel tortoise old, wait for their on-screen moments.
What do movie sets smell like?
Tonight, wet foliage, sodden pollen and flushed through storm drains mixed with motor polish.
Leaving behind this closed road turned rabbit hole leading to a fictional period world, I am still left pondering…
What is the scent of the ‘real’ cinema close up?
Is it iris heavy greasepaint? Or newly laundered clothes? Egos?
Perhaps, these days, air-conditioning and anti-sceptic?
What do you imagine the fragrance of the films to be?
The Perfumed Dandy.