My grandmother wore Estee Lauder's White Linen perfume.

Her scent was a much a part of her being as her grey hair or throaty laugh.

Several years ago my brother wandered a perfume counter at Marshall Field's in Minneapolis sniffing every bottle until he found what "Nanny smelled like."

I miss Nanny. Every day. More than I can say and more than I thought I would.

Today, as I walked home from bruch, I passed through a cloud of White Linen. My ipod was on and my mind a million miles away, but one whiff and I was recalled to life.

I could hear Nanny as clear as day, "Hi, doll!"

Guess she's still watching me.