Replica: Bubble Bath
A short story series inspired by the Maison Margiela Replica Perfumes that are known for their unique concept of capturing moments and memories through fragrance. Each scent evokes specific places and times filled with love, drama, friendship, and pain.
The water laps into the bathtub. The idea of lying in the warm fluid sounds tempting. Gracefully I let my clothes sink to the floor — first the short pink shorts, then the striped nightgown. As I turn to my left, I see my reflection in the slightly fogged mirror. Transfixed by my own sparkling green eyes … mesmerized. But it is not a joyful expression that looks into my face. It is one where the burden of everyday life is clearly visible. The stress, the hectic, the deadline for submission which is getting closer and closer. Although everything has been formatted, proofread several times, and is now bound in the final form lying on the desk only a few steps away from me, the eyes in the mirror continue to radiate a deep uncertainty.
My gaze wanders along my body, critically examining the breasts, the belly, and finally the hips. I feel drawn to them and let my fingertips gently slide along my curves. And once again I am confronted with this feeling. It’s not enough that I burden myself with being judged academically by someone else, now I’m also judging myself. Am I enough? Will I ever be? And who even measures this? A deep sadness rushes from my toes through my whole body into my eyes. I sense how water is filling up my lower eyelids and touching the cornea. Just shy of overflowing and forming a tear. But it only adds to the sensation that gravity just increased and is pressing me more and more into the ground. Everything feels heavy. Not the questions are causing it, but the answers within me which are not supportive. Not rationale. Not the ones I am wishing for.
All thoughts are abruptly interrupted when I realize that the tub is sufficiently filled. The heavy weight snaps from my shoulders as if it were never there in the first place. Only the glassy eyes, of which I quickly catch a glimpse in the mirror when turning around, are left as proof. First the left, then the right leg gets in. Slightly squatting down, I now feel how the water completely envelops me. As I continue to submerge, moving my head under the water, I exhale. The small bubbles of air make their way along my face to the surface. They tickle my skin while floating around my cheeks and forehead. I emerge from the water. The wet strands of hair fall onto my face, but I do nothing about it. Finally silence! A deep breath. The bath additives now unfold their full scent: like in a sinfully expensive wellness oasis, the soapy coconut scent lingers in the air. Now and then lavender or vanilla comes through before it once again is replaced by the powdery base note. My head sinks back into the water and my eyes slowly close. The ears submerged in water I now can only hear my own breathing. Focus on it — breath deeply in … and out … in … and out.
A muffled sound brings me out of my trance-like state. I can’t tell how long I’ve been lying in the water. It could’ve been 20 minutes or an hour. The temperature has already dropped noticeably. I lift my head and can now clearly hear the sounds. The metallic clicking … a few steps, shoes and clothes being taken off, and loud breathing. There is a clearly perceptible male heaviness in all of this. No woman would move so roughly, almost mechanically. But it suits men. It fits that they are rough, direct, and sometimes perform the most mindless tasks with remarkable stubbornness. Could I actually do that too? When his hands wrap around my body, drive up my hips, and encircle my neck, I too perform whatever is asked of me — without questioning anything. There is no uncertainty in those moments. They let me know that I am wanted and needed — now! They let me realize the stimulus I am able to create. When submissive … in a strange and satisfying way this also empowers me and brushes away negative feelings like those I’ve experienced in front of the mirror.
The door handle squeaks audibly before the bathroom door opens. Suddenly I’m no longer alone in the bathroom. And yet the first thing I do is smile. I can’t do anything about it. Then a movement towards me, until finally, he faces me. His breath hits the little droplets of water on my skin, creating a chill feeling. A slight shiver runs through me. His hand now on my hair he wipes aside the drenched heavy strands. The individual thin wisp tickles my eyebrows and lips until my face is freed. He confidently places his hand on my cheek and gently but firmly guides me to his mouth. Once again I am finally feeling the burden slip away from me.
Purely a fictional story! All Images are generated by Midjourney. It’s a great service so check it out.
