Perfume is Pleasure

Hideous shoes on feet attached to otherwise fabulously turned-out people are sometimes perfect. We imagine that disgusting colors seem right, even those producing eerie flashbacks of refrigerators, Twiggy and Peter Max posters. Given repeated exposure to the latest look, ugly becomes beautiful. We succumb to groupthink and the Emperor is oh-so-chic, new duds or no.

Arguably, in the case of clothes, the mandate is visible, the standards, clear. We must have those perky, flouncy, unnaturally tight, loose, short, long, bright or dull items in the magazine. We all go along, victims and perpetrators of style. I get it.

What I don’t get is this: Why do so many fragrance shoppers ask for the latest thing? Hand-held computing devices get better. Medical technology gets better, notwithstanding the social and personal dilemmas that result. Admittedly, new aroma chemicals have created perfume possibilities that never existed before. But should we conclude that new, not-yet-improved and highly promoted fragrances are automatically superior to the rest? No.

Pause to consider the subset of folks noticing your scent who will enjoy it more or think better of you if this scent launched in 2009 instead of 2003 or 1956. Do they know or care?

For some, it is the pilgrimage to Grasse, for others, the Osmothèque. You readers without a long history of perfume obsession, consider the birth of a baby, sunrise over the Grand Canyon, falling in love for the first time. Am I making myself clear?

Mascara severely threatened, I dabbed gently as Michael Edwards begin his address to the large gathering at Sniffapalooza’s recent Holiday Fête. Fragrance classification rapture. A peak experience for one lured out of corporate life to transform the way Americans buy scent, armed only with her nose, extraordinary concern for the happiness of others and Michael Edwards’ Fragrances of the World.

It started in 2000 when a friend thought she could put me off talking about perfume by getting me to read about it instead. Marjorie, you failed. Thus began the tour through Chandler Burr’s The Emperor of Scent, a biography of Luca Turin, with its goosebump provoking stories about a biochemist’s first love, the smell of wonderful perfume. Burr’s account of Dioressence, as heard in one of his many interviews with Turin, captivated me. The serendipitous mixture of a Miss Dior knock-off, in soap form, and the finest ambergris. Enthralled, I read about Turin’s comment that a new fragrance reminded him of two-tone fabric shifting color in the light, and his subsequent discovery of the written brief (narrative blueprint for a new scent) including the very image of a fabric he described. Turin’s lush prose describing scents, to me, was poetry more poetic than Poe.

I could blame my new career as a fragrance educator and coach on Burr and Turin, and I often do. It is Edwards, however, who should take the heat.

While fragrance critics and connoisseurs abound, only one chose to transform the overwhelming array of modern fragrances into a catalog indexed by scent name, by manufacturer, by intended sex(es) of the wearer, by fragrance family and by style ranging from fresh, “the most effervescent fragrances in a family,” to crisp, “lively interpretations with a crisp accent,” then on to classical, “balanced notes characteristic of the family,” and ending finally with rich, “the richer, deeper fragrances.”

Edwards saw the opportunity for manufacturers, retailers and consumers alike to match taste with juice. He understands and articulates every year, for a growing number of new launches (last year 800, now 1,000), the qualities that link and differentiate perfumes. While some retailers have invested in Edwards’ books and software, I believe that the use of his work is only in its infancy. Edwards’ classifications have boundless potential to increase the joy of perfume lovers everywhere.

But back to the ostensible topic for this post: Music and perfume. A growing trend in fragrance critique is to draw parallels between music and scent. Burr did this to the delight of a sell-out crowd at last week’s New York Times TimesTalk. Turin has previously compared Shalimar to Chopin’s Nocturnes, Silver Iris Mist to Schumann’s Arabesque, Tommy Girl to Corelli or to Prokofiev’s First Symphony and Mitsouko to Brahms. Many other comparisons can be found in Turin’s online and print opus.

I hadn’t truly heard the music of perfume until Michael Edwards sung to me, a capella, the differences among lily of the valley, gardenia, rose and tuberose. In a falsetto, he began, “Diorissimo…the muguet,” still high, but moderated, “Marc Jacobs…the gardenia,” lower, “Paris…the rose,” then finally, with deep resonance, “Fracas…the tuberose.”

Standing ovation, of course. So maybe I was the only one actually cheering. Did you say Michael or Michelangelo?

Photo by Linda Gerlach, artist and former Wall Street executive turned fragrance designer - Love the Key to Life, her first fragrant creation

Not an aphrodisiac? My stuffing? I beg your pardon! There is nothing that makes me want to rush off to the bedroom (to sleep) like four or five servings of my beloved stuffing. I personally opt out of dried cranberries, walnuts and other items fine in the context of fruitcake. Of course I respect the creativity of those who improvise, and will certainly eat! My own blend: A few bags of unseasoned bread cubes are the vehicle for about 250 times their weight in onions, celery and only slightly frostbitten sage and rosemary, some thyme, lots of black pepper, drippings, salt and schmaltz (this is chicken fat, no offense to you turkeys).

There once was a woman from Granby
Who knew just how good stuffing can be
When jasmine and rose
Became dull for her nose

uh, oh… Help!

She chopped onions, then more
‘Till tears flowed out the door
Then said: _________________________

Please finish the limerick with your comments.

(click “one response” below for the valiant rescue - all blogs should have such friends)

You probably have responsibilities: a job, family, house, maybe some other things you need to take care of. Call that “work.” Then there is spare time where you pursue the occasional interest. Start spending a lot of time at it and telling people: “Oh, Saturday mornings I always go _____ ing,” and you’ve got a hobby. Come Saturday night, if you’re still doing it in preference to food, sleep and other essential activities, you are officially obsessed.

But the last condition mentioned is not yours. Yours is the well-balanced life, a pleasant mix of gainful, recreational and community-oriented activity. You enjoy creature comforts in moderation, neither glutton nor snob. A nice meal, a little wine, a light workout, Netflix, pretty dress, new drapes. Sensory stimulation, good, wholesome fun. Once in a while, you enjoy applying fragrance. A little perfume or cologne is uplifting. It feels good.

But always that niggling question: Which one? In 2007, according to Euromonitor, $3.3 billion was spent on fragrances in the U.S. alone. A good percentage of that on bottles opened once, only to sit on the dresser, maybe yours, as the sad reminder of an uninformed choice.

You want a great scent, but where is the fragrance equivalent of The Food Network, Cigar Aficionado or Consumer Reports? Where is someone to tell you the magic words that will send a cosmetics clerk scampering for your perfect scent?

If perfume is already prominent on your radar screen and you’d like to read more about 1,500 of your favorites, read Perfumes: The Guide, a spirited survey by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez. See Amazon’s customer reviews for consumer and fragrance industry responses to the authors’ no-holds-barred reviews. To preserve the peace, the French used to say “les goûts et les couleurs ne se discutent pas” a rough mix of “to each his own” and “keep it to yourself.” Luca Turin, whose first guide was published in French, threw that advice out the window long ago.

Maybe you are still lost about finding your next perfume. Before we go further, please decide: Do you seriously want to spend six months or six years learning about top notes, middle notes and base notes, naturals vs. synthetics, dry-down and sillage? Do you see yourself making and trading decants on the Internet? Would you leave a decent paying corporate job to do this full time? Are you crazy?

My recommendation: Leave these expensive and time-consuming pursuits to the perfumistas, denizens of fragrant cyber-spots like Bois de Jasmin, Perfume Smellin’ Things, Sniffapalooza, Vetivresse, Glass Petal Smoke, Perfume Posse, Now Smell This, Scented Salamander and Basenotes. After browsing sites like these, if you remain unconverted, consider yourself an occasional perfume website user. Still wondering about that perfect scent? Skip the next paragraph, but read on.

Having visited the sites above, you no longer view life the same way. I greet you as a brother, sister, friend. Please send me your contact information and receive details of my 12-step program for the likes of us, expected to begin 3rd quarter, 2009.

Take heart. It is reasonable not only to hope for, but also to find a wonderful scent without becoming a fragrance fanatic or researcher. Just as you would hire an accountant, dentist or electrician, you can hire a perfume consultant to ask you the right questions, have you smell some things, do all the thinking and move you quickly to the right bottle. Makes scents, no?

I remember when it was enough to do sheetrock, add paint, furniture, rugs and drapes. At that point, you considered your building to be fully dressed. I also remember typewriters and telephones that didn’t take messages for you. Come to think of it, I remember when you couldn’t type any old string of words into Google and…

But I stray from the topic of indecent exposure in public spaces. This isn’t about naked people, it’s about naked spaces. Go downtown, to your favorite resort, casino or theme park and smell the chocolate or fresh laundry. So you thought it came from the merchandise or the goodies grandma was cooking in the back? Uhn, uhn.

Avery Gilbert, psychologist, smell scientist and entrepreneur devotes the Zombies at the Mall chapter of his new book, What the Nose Knows - The Science of Scent in Everyday Life to this issue: “Nasal persuasion is happening everywhere.” MGM Grand in Las Vegas has up to nine scents going around the property all at once. At its own peril, Starbucks switched from fresh-ground to vacuum-sealed coffee. Something was missing from the consumer experience and sales slumped. Another Classic Coke story - Starbucks reversed course.

Marketers know that smells are a direct route to emotional connection with consumers. But is it true that all good smells will promote commerce? Gilbert explains “the congruency problem.” Female students purchased more satin sleepwear in a lily of the valley scented experimental setting than they did when a sea mist spray was deployed. We want to connect what we see with what we smell. Scent must convey meaning related to the product or service for sale. The success of scent campaigns to encourage people to stay in a store longer, perceive the goods as trendier, or try a new product, according to Gilbert, depends on style, taste and culture. He comments that “marketers need a Nielsen rating for the nostrils.”

What The Nose Knows is chock-full of cultural, psychological, and smell-ogical insights conveyed in zesty, flowing prose. Avery Gilbert’s style is erudite yet warm and friendly as your favorite uncle. Enjoy a great read extending far beyond the topic of this post!

Other good books dealing in scent marketing are: Whiff! The Revolution of Scent Communication in the Information Age, by C. Russell Brumfield and Brand Sense: Build Powerful Brands Through Touch, Taste, Smell, Sight and Sound by Martin Lindstrom. Raise your hand if you remember The Hidden Persuaders, by Vance Packard.

Despite the rise of sophisticated notes like leather, sage, geranium and white tea in our ambient aromas, the gourmands reign supreme. Make no mistake, vanilla is here to stay! Home scent developers are expanding the dessert palate with fruit salad, marshmallow, crème brulée and butter cream. I was all nose, er, ears, as Karen Young from The Young Group shared her outlook on the smell of my house, and yours, at Fragrance Business 2008, an industry conference held last month.

How did Karen know I’m not spending as much time cleaning as I used to? She was ready with solutions. There are some home scenting jobs too tough for even the butteriest, creamiest vanilla. Bring the outside in to cover the smell of pets and children. That’s what purchasers of candles, diffusers and plug-ins are doing these days. Greener, less floral scents, clean and ozone notes fill the air. And for that touch of “haute candle-ture,” expect new combinations of sweet and sour, fruits harvested from remote global locations, spice, wood and wine.

These days, grown women gleefully adorn themselves with eau de cotton candy. Perhaps this does not conform to your standards for olfactory refinement. Still, there’s that urge to pig out without gaining weight. Fear not, Sephora can outfit you with dozens of vanilla variations in a choice of eau de toilette, bath gel or lotion. Decisions, decisions. Do you want your vanilla with a side of mocha, apricot, coconut or grapefruit? My theory on our love affair with vanilla: and the other yummy smells: Name one friend or relative who was ever mugged in a dark alley by a chocolate chip cookie.

Last night at Connecticut’s Bee and Thistle Inn, peerless for comfort, cuisine, arts and culture, I met a dashing man who shared his love for Aromatics Elixir. He got that faraway look as he spoke of the perfume, and confessed to foisting it on his wife, though she is not a fan.

I recalled hounding a woman in a tropical climate, only to learn that the complex but ethereal scent attracting me was the very same. It smelled just right, even in the hot sun. Yet many who try this Clinique scent initially act like they’ve just gotten a whiff of some heavy like Youth Dew or Opium. The furrowed brow, the pursed lips and the inevitable comment about old ladies and/or my grandmother.

On another occasion when I asked a stranger about the marvelous fragrance, it had a funkier, hippie-vibe. Hint: patchouli, but hush-hush, the very mention of that leaf, despite its refreshing mint-family connections, clears any room.

This story has a purpose beyond perfume critique. Back to my new friend at the Inn. He was enjoying an evening at the rugby club with friends, all male. In burst a woman in trauma, just attacked on the street outside. She was emotionally out of control and no one could get her to talk. This went on. Finally one of the men, a burly police officer off-duty, commented: “You’re wearing Aromatics.” Immediately the assault victim snapped-to, and became herself.

So much talk about the personal memories triggered by scent and the places they take us. Now the idea that scent memories of another can foster healing in someone so in need. How strong is our desire to be known, to be recognized and remembered! This is the attraction of a “signature scent.”

Following a playful scuffle over sniffing-rights to my “x-rated” jasmine oil, Kyron, Nate and Jasmine had finally agreed to share when this shot was taken. Along with Yonka, Marnise and Roxie, they almost beat me in an exuberant smell-athon at the Connecticut Youth Forum. It was thrilling to observe the stamina of young people choosing favorites from a large menu of woody, fresh, oriental and floral scents.

Introducing my new friends to the essentials of perfumery was great fun, especially after the jasmine riot ended. The group quickly abandoned my innocuous, sweet-smelling jasmine for a “love it or hate it” version, rich in indoles. Indoles have a decaying animal smell that attracts insects to flowers. Don’t get squeamish; I will spare you further details on indoles. Just promise that you will try to understand as well as these young people how gorgeous they can be as part of a well-constructed perfume.

I delight in conducting sessions like this to help people find scents that bring exquisite pleasure.

Sandy smelled something funny. Everyone knows that fragrance can bring back memories, stir emotions and project style. But sometimes a scent is just fun, and funny! Sandy is Ticket Empress at The Connecticut Forum and participated in an fragrance event held there for mature youth.