Here in Houston, there is a street called Harwin where you can find almost anything at a discount, including brand-name perfume. This is where I met Venitta Baxter, in a narrow shop near the back of a nondescript strip of stores.
You can't see Discount Perfume from the street, and the sign for the shopping center was torn up, so I have no idea how I found it that first time. But once I did I kept coming back for the deals, and because of Venitta. Because Venitta knew her perfume.
She knew something about every single fragrance in that store. And Lord knows, she had a personal opinion about all of them, too. I noticed that she watched her tongue with customers who just wanted the latest releases or an old favorite (though she would gently guide the male customers to try the things she liked), but with me she shared her honest reactions.
When I'd ask to try something, I'd get a face or a look that told me exactly how she felt about it. And when I'd ask her why, she'd tell me. And I could tell her why I liked or didn't like something. Sometimes we agreed, sometimes we didn't. But we always agreed to disagree because we recognized and respected each other's passion for scent.
You could carry on a real conversation about perfume with Venitta, which any perfumista will tell you is a rare commodity among sales associates. I kept hoping the other sales ladies would watch and learn from her but they never did. They seemed to have only a perfunctory interest in perfume, and couldn't talk about the history or the notes of the scents they were selling.
While this made for a quieter, quicker shopping experience, it wasn't nearly as much fun. Venitta was a perfume chatterbox, loaded with Southern charm and lots of "honeys" and "sweeties." She always greeted me by name, which she prefaced with the Southern-polite "Miss." With Venitta you could cackle over the truly bad scents and dream about the devastating effect you'd have on men when you wore the really good ones.
Early last year I had heard that Venitta had moved off the sales floor to the back office, having grown weary of the perfume haze (her allergies) and all the standing (her feet). I feel bad that I didn't learn until yesterday that she'd died back in July.
One morning she didn't show up to work (she was always the first to arrive), and when an employee went to her home, they found her, dead from a heart attack. The sales lady who told me about it said that Venitta had been having pains in her hand and arm, but hadn't had them checked out.
I am glad to have met Venitta, and to have been able to write about her and her wonderful customer service for a local shopping guide, and to have had her on our morning talk show. I don't know anything about her life outside the perfume store, but I am sure she is missed there as well. R.I.P. Venitta Baxter, and thanks for everything.
(Photos are of the article I wrote and shot for the Harwin Guide back in 2004 or 2005. Click on them to enlarge.)
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