I bought a new shower curtain on Saturday. The one with the PVC. Not because it was the cheapest, but for the smell. An olfactory trip back to the most highly anticipated day of my childhood year - Christmas! The smell of new toys. Plastic toys. That just-opened burst of chemical off-gassing. So many presents! Big Jim and all his macho man accessories. Tents, campers, motorcycles, race cars, tree stumps. Each was individually packaged in its own plastic isolette, ready to serve a supporting role in my ever expanding action-adventure tableau. Occasionally my sister would invite me across the hallway to play Barbies. She’d already be set up in the largest open floor space of her lavender bedroom, between the foot of her bed and the double closets that spanned the north wall. From the floor, the vertical lines of the closet doors shot up to the ceiling above her Lively Livin’ dream house like two colossal high-rise office buildings or apartments - like the kind where Mary Ty