In this blog, I talk about "perfume," but what I really mean is either cologne or eau de toilette. I rarely came in contact with perfume-the-real-stuff until a few months ago.
My earliest experiment was wearing "Topaz," a scent by Avon which my mother liked. One Monday I sneaked some before going to school. "What stinks?" asked Steven Parry in my 7th grade social studies class. Mom had other bottles of equal unpleasantness, but I tried them just the same. She finally did better with a bottle of Chanel No. 5. Impressed with the attachment Mom had for it, I didn't dare try any, but instead sniffed for magic at the tiny hole in the atomizer. Unfortunately, Mom rationed it so carefully that it ultimately turned to antique vinegar. On my own at last at age 18, and in Japan to study, my perfume hunt was stymied. In 1969, Japanese ladies bought bottles of scent but never wore them. Like French cheeses, they were admired and detested. I knew the name of one perfume I liked, "Femme" by Rochas. A 4-hour trip to Tokyo and then to a large department store netted me a very expensive bottle, which I couldn't wait to bring back to the countryside of Nagano Prefecture. When I opened the bottle, instead of heaven was---nothing! It was a "dummy bottle," meant for display only. Was I cheated? Was it just a mistake? I'll never know, because I was too embarrassed to do anything about it, including telling anyone---which I do here for the very first time.
From 1971 until the present, I have never been without a bottle or two of eau de cologne or eau de toilette. My favorites that I can remember have been "O de Lancome," "Fleur de Rocaille,""L'Air de Temps," "Shalimar," "White Linen," "Chanel No. 5," Floris "Sandalwood,""Femme," (not in a dummy bottle) "Lalique for Men,""Gucci Rush,""Flor Botanica," and "Henna de Pravia." I have always been searching for My Perfect Scent.
Suddenly, this year of 2016, I made a discovery. Silly naif: I never realized that the world of perfume is as complex as the world of wine. Even the simplest Wikipedia search for "Perfume" yields more information about the field than I ever knew existed. But for me, a new and serious exploration started with the discovery of the website Basenotes which is dedicated to perfume news and reviews. As I began reading about my favorites of yore, I realized that my infrequent trips to department stores to sniff pieces of stiff paper sprayed randomly with the big commercial brands were silly and inadequate. By chance, on Basenotes, I discovered a Los Angeles wonder store called Lucky Scent which actually sends samples. These are not samples of the highly-advertised mall brands, but of special niche brands from all over the world. They cost $4-$6 per 7 ml. vial, which yield enough scent to know. Hooray! I got started right away with their Essential 13 unisex sample bag.
My earliest experiment was wearing "Topaz," a scent by Avon which my mother liked. One Monday I sneaked some before going to school. "What stinks?" asked Steven Parry in my 7th grade social studies class. Mom had other bottles of equal unpleasantness, but I tried them just the same. She finally did better with a bottle of Chanel No. 5. Impressed with the attachment Mom had for it, I didn't dare try any, but instead sniffed for magic at the tiny hole in the atomizer. Unfortunately, Mom rationed it so carefully that it ultimately turned to antique vinegar. On my own at last at age 18, and in Japan to study, my perfume hunt was stymied. In 1969, Japanese ladies bought bottles of scent but never wore them. Like French cheeses, they were admired and detested. I knew the name of one perfume I liked, "Femme" by Rochas. A 4-hour trip to Tokyo and then to a large department store netted me a very expensive bottle, which I couldn't wait to bring back to the countryside of Nagano Prefecture. When I opened the bottle, instead of heaven was---nothing! It was a "dummy bottle," meant for display only. Was I cheated? Was it just a mistake? I'll never know, because I was too embarrassed to do anything about it, including telling anyone---which I do here for the very first time.
From 1971 until the present, I have never been without a bottle or two of eau de cologne or eau de toilette. My favorites that I can remember have been "O de Lancome," "Fleur de Rocaille,""L'Air de Temps," "Shalimar," "White Linen," "Chanel No. 5," Floris "Sandalwood,""Femme," (not in a dummy bottle) "Lalique for Men,""Gucci Rush,""Flor Botanica," and "Henna de Pravia." I have always been searching for My Perfect Scent.
Suddenly, this year of 2016, I made a discovery. Silly naif: I never realized that the world of perfume is as complex as the world of wine. Even the simplest Wikipedia search for "Perfume" yields more information about the field than I ever knew existed. But for me, a new and serious exploration started with the discovery of the website Basenotes which is dedicated to perfume news and reviews. As I began reading about my favorites of yore, I realized that my infrequent trips to department stores to sniff pieces of stiff paper sprayed randomly with the big commercial brands were silly and inadequate. By chance, on Basenotes, I discovered a Los Angeles wonder store called Lucky Scent which actually sends samples. These are not samples of the highly-advertised mall brands, but of special niche brands from all over the world. They cost $4-$6 per 7 ml. vial, which yield enough scent to know. Hooray! I got started right away with their Essential 13 unisex sample bag.
For each scent, there is a pyramid of ingredients which corresponds to the time it takes for them to develop. Starting with the top notes, right after the initial spray and "dry down," there is then a period of "middle notes," followed by the after-30-minutes more subtle "base notes."
Now behold my ignorance. Since I was searching for The Perfect Scent, I took notes on the 13 unisex scents at two stages of their development: the top notes and the base notes, and then I gave them letter grades. Here is a "review" of my only A+, Montale's "Intense Cafe:" Has bergamot---wonderful. Four hours later, still wonderful." Compare this with customer reviews (parts excerpted) on Basenotes: "The composition is mainly a balance of coffee, amber, rose and vanilla that leans most heavily to vanilla. I found the opening more fruity and floral fresh, with the dry down more a harmonious blend of the notes above..." It "opens with a strong coffee note, and ...then it turns into a sweet rose with vanilla and amber. I could detect some coffee in the background." Etc. If I decide to be a reviewer, my user name would have to be "The Tin Nose."
Note the astute reviews given by "The Tin Nose."
No more big bottles for the time being:samples are wonderful!!
Never mind, I found an A+ scent today: L'Artisan Parfumeur's "Chocolate Greedy." This was panned by a few reviewers, but what do I care? Smelling chocolate at the base of my throat for 8 hours is my fetishy idea of heaven. Follow my wake.
2 comments:
I almost never wear fragrance these days, but years ago, I was fond of L’Air du Temps (Nina Ricci), Sortilège (Le Galion), Vent Vert (Balmain), Je Reviens (Worth), and Chanel No 5. I never wore fragrance to work and Je Reviens and Chanel No. 5 were only for the evening.
Ten or so years ago, I had dinner with a friend in Lille and she smelled very faintly and deliciously of something I recognized but couldn’t put a name to. I asked what it was: Je Reviens. I bought some at the Duty Free on my way back from France and hated it on me. Not long ago, I put a tiny sample from the L’Air du Temps tester on my wrist in some department store or other and found it too sweet. I guess my taste and/or my body chemistry have changed.
When I started to wear fragrance, as a very young woman in England, it was for special occasions, even if you weren’t in my limited income bracket; and even if you were, you put a tiny dab behind each ear, on each wrist, and maybe inside each elbow. When atomizers first appeared and you could decant your eau de toilette into one and spray it on, my godfather gave me a very pretty little purse-sized Limoges atomizer that I never actually carried in my purse. I used to spray a little into the air in front of me and walk into it, having read somewhere that’s how French women did it -- and who more knowledgeable than they?
These days, many people are allergic to scent. People probably always were, but as with second-hand smoke many years ago, they just had to put up with it. I find I am becoming more and more sensitive to scent myself, the older I get. At least a part of the problem is that some people (men and women) don’t have the word “subtlety” in their lexicons and wear too much scent or after shave. It’s hard to smell it on yourself, so perhaps they douse themselves with it until they can smell it, by which time so can everyone else a block away and ten minutes after they’ve left.
The only fragrance I have now is Green Tea eau de toilette by Victor. I bought it in Florence in 2001 and still have just over a quarter of the 100 ml spray bottle left. On the rare occasions when I wear it, I still spray it ahead of me and walk into it, or I spray some on my hairbrush before I brush my hair. It doesn't last long to my nose, but while it does, it takes me back to Florence and the parfumerie in the Oltrarno quarter where I bought it, and it makes me very happy.
A great comment! Perfume needs to please the wearer without torturing others.
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