Perfume is Pleasure

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.

Sad, so sad. When they tell me: “I love it, but I just can’t wear perfume.” I introduced a woman to a scent that captured the best of everything, smells she loved and none that would arouse an allergic response, or so we had hoped.

“Let’s do it!” She was optimistic. “Sure wish I knew more about what might set off a reaction,” I cautioned. ”Do you really want this on your skin?” She insisted and I watched as tiny red bumps emerged on her arm. Thus ended her perfume explorations for the evening.

What is an allergy-prone fragrance lover to do? Aromatic jewelry has a long and sweet-smelling history, documented in a truly gorgeous book by Annette Green and Linda Dyett called Secrets of Aromatic Jewelry. I gasped with delight while gorging on the photos of exotic wearable art.

Last week, Don’t Retire, Rewire author Jeri Sedlar, who encourages career-changers pursuing a passion, introduced me to Cathy Gins, founder and designer of Aromawear. Aromawear is a scent locket offered as a necklace pendant, bracelet or key chain to hold the fine fragrance or essential oils of your choice. Some disperse scent continuously, while others shut tight, only to release the fragrance on command when opened. I get particularly bored by frilly, delicate jewelry and appreciate the clean lines, strong and yet sensual design of Aromawear. Beautiful, even if it didn’t offer olfactory thrills, it comes in gold or silver, up to you.

Of course the severity of headaches and allergies varies greatly by individual, but I believe that aromatic jewelry is a great solution for many. It is also a nice option for folks who want to change their fragrance during the day or want the option to switch it on and off.

To obtain a free and personalized fragrance profile e-mail me a list of your favorite fragrances with manufacturer’s name, if you know it. Of course, I’d love comments on what you’d like to read about in this blog!

My inability to sleep in the middle of the day has always been a sore spot. Even the high-performance motivational types say a short nap may be the best route to those world-changing things I have planned.

On Sundays, in particular, I coldly eye my husband and two sons. Sprawled out all over the house, they rub my nose in their Sabbath peace. Silent, oblivious, effortlessly demonstrating the Art of the Nap. My emotions range from envy to something less charitable. Desperately wishing to be as far out of it as they are, with ill-will towards all, and loudly, I go about important business.

A 1951 book by Paul Jellinek, The Psychological Basis of Perfumery, categorizes scents according to their effects on us: Narcotic, Erotic, Refreshing and Exalting. It has been a long week. The first effect catches my eye. Something to soothe and numb, to induce sleep or stupor. What is not to like?

Into a very small blue bottle, filled almost to the top with jojoba oil, I mix a little essence of amber, rose absolute (the very best Bulgarian type) and a touch of bergamot oil from my friend Bill Luebke at Goodscents Wrists, neck, backs of the hands. Take me away… It has been several months now. Hoping that this public announcement will not break the spell, I share that the potion has worked every time. True, I use it only when fully committed: I will go to that special place. Still, the scent of sleep has not yet failed!

Women have agonized over perfume application forever. Some maybe more than others. Some a lot less. You know the ones who spritzed without scruples. Cleopatra and her barge of rose petals floating up the Cydnus River to Tarsus for the well-planned seduction of Mark Antony. Fragrance-infused sails announced her arrival long before she came into view.

Napoleon Bonaparte would never consider going into battle unscented and liked his women perfumed as well. Every week, he ordered two quarts of violet cologne and somehow managed to consume sixty bottles of jasmine extract monthly. His first wife Josephine reportedly tolerated Napoleon’s tastes, but generally fancied the stronger stuff, musk in particular. Eventually, he shifted his attention to Marie Louise who became his second wife, no doubt because she shared the emperor’s affection for violets. Josephine, in a transitional snit, saturated their boudoir with musk, and the scent lingered for sixty years.

My mother-in-law says: “A little bit is OK, but too much is too much.” This must be a French-Canadian proverb. But what is too much? The Fragrance Foundation of America encourages us to layer our fragrances. We should start with a perfumed soap, bubble bath, cleansing gel or bath oil. Body lotion or cream will follow on damp skin. Continue the ritual with a lavish splash of eau de toilette and finish it off with perfume on pulse points. On a hot day, remember the powder.

But wait! The Foundation instructs us not to dominate our surroundings with perfume. A personal “circle of scent” should extend no further than the length of an arm extended from the body. Be careful that vigorous layering does not extend your personal circle to the entire planet!

How much? There are different schools of thought. I have a wonderful girlfriend, originally from the Mideast. When I meet her after work she smells rich and wonderful - not having applied any fragrance since early morning when she leaves her house. The woman loves perfume. So one time I asked: “How many did you spray?” And she said: “I don’t know, let me think, one, two, three…” And I said: “Eight?” And she said: “Yeah, eight.” Another friend of mine lives to know that people cannot always see her, but know she was there from the scent left in her wake.

Me? I go light. I might spray once, twice, rarely more than three times. Three spritzes, perhaps, of an extremely volatile citrus splash that I know will be gone in a half an hour but I just can’t get enough. I would not use a heavy hand with a rich floral or an oriental fragrance. But many folks do, and I enjoy the wake when they pass.

Many offended by public displays of perfume have organized. See Breathe Free or Die (your source for buttons, magnets, keychains and posters that say: “I’m fragrance free. Help me stay that way!”) or Fragrance Free World. These groups educate and defend the rights of people with multiple chemical sensitivity, migraines, asthma, allergies and other conditions, as well as the soon-to-be “formerly healthy people who’ve been exposed to too many chemicals.” I am torn on this issue. Life and death aside, have you ever tried to eat sushi in the presence of extreme Giorgio? Or watch theater next to Amarige applied without discretion? Don’t.

On the whole, we dwell more on the dangers of perfume over-use than its under-use. A few weeks back I attended a college alumni event, all perfect strangers. Out of decorum, I applied a mightily restrained portion of my chosen scent. To be extra careful, I put it on at four p.m. for the evening event. Champagne, Hors d’oeuvres. Great art. Conversation about fragrance. When asked about mine, I had no evidence. We pawed, we sniffed, but not a trace. Later that evening, on my way out, a woman swept by me wearing the very scent I craved. Filled with melancholy, I left the party, never to make that mistake again.

“Smells like my grandmother.” This popular variant of “smells like an old lady” is often applied to powdery, musty florals and spicy oriental fragrances and is not a compliment. Fact: 100 out of 100 women I have interviewed will not wear their mother’s signature scent. I suspect a girly backflip on Oedipus taboos.

Would we like this scent it if it weren’t for mom or grandma? If we could erase the memory of a perfume, how different would it smell? When grandmothers, not yet mothers, first donned Estée Lauder’s Youth Dew, how did it smell to them? Keep in mind: Their grandmothers knew that nice girls didn’t wear perfume. Did it smell old and fusty, the Trojan horse in the form of brown bath oil Estée used to scent a generation of women who would not buy real perfume for themselves? Or did it just smell rich and spicy? What was the mental image evoked by Youth Dew, the emotional response in 1953?

We rule out once-popular fragrances simply because we’ve smelled them before. Isn’t that a little like: “Cheese, never touch the stuff, my folks always had cheese around.” Not that I think people reject a scent to be difficult. No, it really smells dated, and in a bad way, not like old is new again and black is the new black.

If I had $10 for every woman who has told me she won’t wear Clinique Happy because her mother wore it, I could buy myself a bottle of Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Pampelune. If these women gave me $15 instead, I might spring for Annick Goutal’s Eau d’Hadrien. With the change I would buy some really good grapefruits and eat them.

Along the same lines, if I had $20 for every woman who won’t wear Chanel No. 5 because 2) her mother wore it, 2) her step-mother wore it or 3) her sadistic boss wore it, I would buy: Bois de Portugal, Cabochard, Cuir de Russie, Elle, Elle, Ferme tes Yeux and Vent Vert. Note that these fragrances are not floral aldehydes in the same spirit as Chanel No. 5 but I want them very badly.

I was in my early 40’s, driving home from work at the end of a day. On this day my gas tank read very low near a Mobil station I had not patronized before. Inside, they had tiny fragrance samples for sale. Real perfumes, not the “if you love Cinnabar, you’ll love Cinnabore” type. I believed that anything as popular as Chanel No. 5 had to be awful, but curiosity won out. For practically nothing, I got to try the world’s best selling fragrance of all time. In this case, that many people are not wrong. You should try it, and pretend that your mother didn’t wear it. Forget what I said about Oedipus and the wicked witch too.

You deserve the right scent, be it old or newborn. Don’t let the ads and sales clerks push you around. Smell for yourself and decide.