Someone should invent a perfume that smells like dew drops on grass after that first night of frost. A perfume that smells like winter’s first day; the crisp air that crackles with ecstatic cold, freshly fallen snow and frost roses on the corners of windows. A perfume that smells like the first time you tried your skies on and the sound of dry, powdery snow under your shoes. It’s on days like today, when the cold bites at exposed cheeks and creates cracks in dry hands, and the rain sneaks inside your jacket and covers your glasses, that the smell of that first day of winter suddenly seems very far away. If this perfume existed, I bet it would smell like the fairy tales we were told in front of fireplaces as children. And yes, I would wear it.