The first time I felt the full power of perfume was partway into my affair with Guerlain Vol de Nuit. I had been wearing the Eau de Toilette, fascinated by its almost off-putting, alcoholic first punch, driving people around me in the locker room at the gym to hold their noses, and then how it quietly absorbed into my skin and emerged as a stronger, almost soapy, but then woody, warm extension of it. Then I tried the parfum. It softened the Eau de Toilette’s edges with stealthy transitions and added a sueded layer of powder at the end. Vol de Nuit parfum was deep and unexpected, and I was love-struck. Really, little hearts flew out of my eyes.
Since then, I’ve seen comments on fragrance reviews about the emotions some perfumes inspire. One woman reported tearing up when she smelled the iris in Chanel Cuir de Russie, for instance. Lots of people talk about the sadness that Guerlain L’Heure Bleue brings. It seems crazy that something so frivolous as perfume could drive a sane, intelligent person to tears, but I’m here to tell you that art — including perfume — can be wildly powerful.
I’ve had this feeling only a handful of times in my life. Actual love, with another person, that is, is joyful and enriching, but can be complicated by fear and apprehension (and then sometimes with in-laws). Art generates feeling that is less complicated but can rattle your emotions all the same. In the 19th century, people called extreme form of it the Stendhal Syndrome. Upon hearing beautiful music or seeing a Michelangelo sculpture, women especially sometimes fainted or burst into tears. It seemed mostly to affect tourists, maybe because the strange positioning of doorknobs, unfamiliar street sounds, and disjointed sleep knock you out of your routine and open you up in a way that doesn’t happen at home.
Once in Paris I had lunch at L’Arpège (a sign about perfume perhaps?). I’d never eaten at a restaurant awarded any Michelin stars, let alone all three of them. I was alone and so nervous that I had to go to the pharmacy ahead of time for antacids. Lunch lasted all afternoon, from the langoustines with ginger and citronelle to the famous soft-boiled egg with maple to the tomato confit cooked at the table for dessert. I got up to use the restroom partway through the meal and returned to find a fresh napkin folded on the table. The food transformed me. I stumbled out into the spring afternoon high and almost breathless with happiness, only partly influenced by the Meursault I’d drank. An Englishman who had also dined alone (he asked for the check in flawless French, then said in English, “Highway robbery!”) left at the same time I did. He flipped open his cell phone and talked to someone he loved. “It’s a beautiful afternoon in Paris,” he said. He felt it, too, the smack of art filling our bloodstreams with buzzing beauty.
There are scores of perfumes that I really like and many that I love — just look at my ridiculous perfume collection. But only a few of them have cut me to the quick. Vol de Nuit extrait did. So did Rochas Femme, once I was ready for it. It’s a rare feeling, and you can only prepare for it by being open and paying attention when you look or taste or smell. But when the emotional connection does happen, the world is that much larger.
Love the article, thank you for this treat.
Thank you so much!
Lovely, Angela! I assume, based on the exchange we had a few days ago that you are talking about the *new* Rochas Femme. That will horrify some people no doubt (but not me!) I wish I could get into Vol de Nuit, people say such passionate things about it!
Yes, the new Femme (still haven't tried the old one). It opened a whole new branch of perfume to me–suddenly I could see myself wearing and enjoying that sort of personal, slightly odd, really 1950s scent. I saw a whole different kind of beauty.
Have you tried the Vol de Nuit parfum? I think it makes a difference. The ultimate is Vol de Nuit parfum sprayed, not dabbed.
I feel exactly the same way about Vol de Nuit. I also started with the EdT, which I loved and still love, but when I finally broke down and bought the extrait I felt like I had found something so treasured that I didn't know I was looking for. I am always a little sad when the weather gets too warm for me to wear this fragrance, and extremely happy when the mercury dips and I can spray it with abandon.
Lovely article, Angela! If I had to pick my HG fragrance, Vol de Nuit would be it. Nothing else suits me so well in so many moods. Your description was spot-on.
It also magically transports me back to Paris, where I bought my bottle of the extrait, and makes me smile to remember my experience in the Guerlain store.
It was an early stop during an entire day of boutique fragrance shopping, and before we left the store, the SA asked me if I would like her to spritz some of the EDT on me. I thought, sure, why not?…thinking she would just spray a bit on my neck. Only too late, I noticed my friend and DH frantically waving “no” behind her, as she spritzed me practically from top to toe. I had had no knowledge of the abandoment with which Fench women spritz! LOL!
The opening notes of the parfum, especially, are so different than those of the EdT. I wish it lasted longer on me, but that's really my only complaint about it.
Yikes! I know I am more brave with the spritzer than I used to be, but with a powerful EdT like Vol de Nuit one would have to be careful. But I bet you smelled like heaven on earth!
What a wonderful article! Thanks! I feel the same way about perfume. It's an essential part of my existence. It's one of the critical components that make the difference for me between just existing and living. I definitely don't wear scents for anyone else (blessedly, DH is fairly anosmic) – they are purely for my own joy.
What a terrific attitude toward perfume! Sometimes I feel sorry for people who dismiss perfume without even acknowledging the art of it. They see perfume as unnatural and grandma-like, and they're missing so much. They'd never disrespect visual art like that.
Wonderfully written indeed! Very nice.
I will try the parfum spray as soon as I can; I love to hear people rhapsodize about VdN.
I love the modernized Femme, too, but I have no aesthetic or political objections to cumin. I am currently in the process of procurring some vintage Femme. I will let you know what I think of it, and if you want, send you some when it arrives if you give me your address.
(btw, I've fixed up my blog a bit and you can alway contact me that way…)
Oh Angela, another beautiful essay to inhale. Like Tigs, I have loved and puzzled over the rapture women have about Vol de Nuit, feeling like an outisder looking in. I will try sometime the parfum. Maybe then…
I left you a comment on your blog this morning! Loved your review. I'll send you a message.
Thank you! I was hoping it wasn't too corny. But that feeling–that real, physical punch of emotion from art/perfume–is worth discussing.
The Vol de Nuit parfum really is different–sort of like comparing a grainy photo to the real thing. But you probably have a few perfumes that affect you the same way VdN does me–makes your heart beat a little faster.
Oh God, most certainly! I remember when I tried my first Annick Goutal fragrance (Eau d'Hadrien) and I couldn't help but just be blown away by it. It was amazing and a feeling every fragrance addict is familiar with, or will be with, some day.
So true!
Yes, this is precisely the kind of article that gets me in BIG trouble! I am STILL searching for the perfume that will make cry or will make my knees weak. I believe there are a couple out in the world that upon being smelled you will truly feel as if you are smelling your soul, in a bottle. It is why I chase on a daily basis…. And ya know I'll just bring up this little fact, as a blonde, blue- eyed, fair skinned girl there aren't as many options for me out there. It's true! I smell wonderful stuff all the time that I just know won't go with my exterior. I think the brunettes have it much easier. I guess the red-heads will be in a worst boat than me?!!
Angela — as usual, here I am, better late than never … for a Guerlain whore I am still trying to get there with Vol de Nuit — I *think* what I've tried is the EDP? — it smells strangely musty to me. But, lord, if I can love Jicky and Mitsouko, then surely…
I am always fascinated by people's reactions to L'Heure Bleue and En Passant. I rarely read “it's kinda pretty”– if they move you, they REALLY move you! I find Bleue transfixing, and En Passant very, very sad, although for a number of people it's the other way around.
ANOTHER Rochas Femme nudge! I really need to try it. Anyway, thanks.
I know what you mean about searching for the perfume that will make you swoon. Some perfumes I love today I would have rejected out of hand three years ago, though (and I suppose in a few years that some that I love now I'll have relegated to the back of the closet!).
It's true that finding a perfume that blends well with the look of a mass of red hair and really pale skin isn't always easy. The delicate florals get lost on me (and burn off quickly), and some of the massive leather and spice perfumes seem too heady. L'Heure Bleue seems like if it were translated into a woman it would be a blond, though. Have you tried it?
March, glad to hear from you, no matter what the time!
I've heard people talk about a Vol de Nuit EdP, but I've never seen it, only the EdP and parfum. And I can see why some people might find the guerlinade musty, but you know better than that. Please give it another try!
As for Femme, some people could find it disgusting, but to me it smells like Marilyn Monroe getting up from a nap. Voluptuous, intimate, and of a certain era.
Angelita, this was such a joy to read! And don't be silly, there is nothing corny about it 🙂
I am one of those misfortunate people who have yet to try the bulk of Guerlain's output, although experiencing Mitsouko is a consolation of sorts. I enjoy perfume immensely, and find its power to conjure images, words and melodies, as well as evoke all manner of memories, simply fascinating. I'd like to share the following with you – my very first impressions on what is possibly the only fragrance ever to transcend these mosaical associations and create a synesthetic whole – this is me lifting my own words from an email to the most graceful perfume blogger around: “… I was instantly transported to a small churchyard off the Mediterranean coast. La Myrrhe [Lutens] smells like a marble tombstone warmed by the sun. I imagine myself lying on this tombstone while breathing in the pungent aroma of a nearby pine forest and of sweet herbs galore. I am at peace with myself, meditating on all things human, the past and the present, hundreds of years flashing before my eyes. I can feel all the weight of this world, but remarkably, there is nothing but serenity in this abandoned corner of the world. And that makes me cry. With joy.” Now if that isn't corny… 😀
Hope I haven't sent you sleeping LOL!
Not corny at all, but very understandable! We are so lucky that we can “get” some scents enough to feel their power. Vol de Nuit was only a proxy for a thousand other perfumes that might move people emotionally.
And now I am going to order up a sample of La Myrrhe. How could I not, after your description?
I would love to hear your thoughts on La Myrrhe, though I feel I should warn you that it has been described many times as soapy, chilly (aldehydes) and inapproachable 🙂 On the other hand, when I first smelled it, I didn't care to dissect it into notes – the imagery, the sounds, the smells simply started to unfold, taking shape of the wonderful place I described so vividly that I can relive it just by closing my eyes! Eh! 🙂
I too must get my hands on Vol de Nuit, the story behind it alone is poignant and I can imagine what a vivid experience it must be! And I'm sure it also smells great 😀
I guess I've got to try it. I've read so many times that it is a sad, sad little fragrance and I hate to admit I think I may be a tad too bubbly for it…! I will sample it anyway. By the way, I'd kill for a mass of red hair! I have tried to dye it red and it comes out pink everytime… come to think of it, the pink haired ladies would have TONS to choose from all the new releases this year!!!
It's a great article, witty and evocative and so true. But what happens if the scent you fall in love with becomes promiscuous and you smell it on too many other people? Surely it loses it's power to thrill? I remember adoring Chloe (that dates me!) and then finding so many women were wearing it that in a lift one day I felt physically sick – and promptly fell out of love.
I think we want our beloved scents to be pretty exclusively ours – or am I just the jealous type?
Kayliana — butting in here. I have never understood people describing it as sad — it is mesmerizingly beautiful, and I think people have read something into the creation that wasn't there… Guerlain's “blue hour” to me is the ethereal magic of dusk, rather than something sad. BTW if you do try it, PLEASE find something other than the EDT — the EDP is much, much better.
No, you're absolutely right. I remember being thrilled by CKone when it came out. A few months later, I was so sick of it I had to leave parties, because everyone stank of exactly the same watery, bergamotty thing. Possibly, the love affair with that smell was connected to a crush of the same vintage. Smell-led emotions so often are. When I went off him, I went off the smell… still reminds me of 1994, though.
I notice that I have instant reactions of trust when I meet people who wear scents that my mother, father, or grandfather wore. Which means if you're in Jicky, L'Heure Bleue, Bois des Iles, Habit Rouge, Fahrenheit or Cool Water Men, I can't help but warm to you.
Meanwhile, a woman I really didn't like at my former place of work always wore Versace Red Jeans – it's not my sort of scent in any case, but I just feel angry whenever I smell it now!
To add my voice to those above – thanks, Angela, for a fascinating piece.
K, I second March's opinion about trying the EdP of L'Heure Bleue. As for my hair, I left out the poufy part and how I try all sorts of tricks to make it look respectable, especially in the rain. My dream, of course, is long, silky black hair. And I love your comment about pink-haired perfume choices!
You've only made La Myrrhe sound even more intriguing!
Jane, I don't like a lot of people wearing my favorites, either. (Maybe that's one of the reasons I like so many of the old ones–as long as I stay away from retirement homes, I'm o.k.). Plus, a scent can lose its magic when you smell it all the time and not just at the carefully-metered times you've decided.
Music does that, too, for me. I've finally learned not to buy new music when I'm in a low spell, because I'll never be able to shake that feeling when I listen to it.
From the looks of your family's scent choices, you must have some strong genes for good taste!
Late to the party, but I just had to add my comment about how much I love this article. Thanks Angela!
I feel that way about Shalimar parfum, Angela. To me, in a word, it is magnificent!
Hugs!
Thank you so much!
I love Shalimar, too, but I don't tend to wear it much. I'm getting my bottle out now and putting it wear I will spritz some on as soon as the Zibeline I have on now wears off.
I am currently swooning with joy at having found Keiko Mecheri's Mogador – Robin PLEASE review this one sometime soon.
Apologies for a slight diversion from the thread but I would be so grateful for some clarification from more experienced scent cognoscenti than me – I have just been given Michael eau de parfum (by Michael Kors) and I can't work out if it is a rather vacuous synthetic floral or something really rather gorgeous.
When I first spray it on it smells purely chemical like fly killer and then dries down to something more attractive and compelling, but perhaps not very layered – and somehow I keep on going back to try it. It frustrates me that I can't work it out (my nose has only got as far as the kindergarten class in this scent-education system)!
It would be really interesting to me (in UK) to know how this scent has been regarded in the US. He's not a designer we know much about but I've told this fragrance has been highly successful – and perhaps highly hyped? How do you experienced scent enthusiasts rate it? A lot of synthetic hot air or a classy scent of some distinction?
I wish I could tell you something about Michael EdP, but my only memories of it are vague and from a sprayed piece of paper. Have you looked at makeupalley? They usually have lots of fragrance reviews, and you can usually separate the more serious perfume fiends from the casual perfume users.
Good luck! And I'm so glad you like Mogador. (I'm adding it to my list to try).
Not sure if you meant to ask Angela or me, but as far as I know, Michael did very well when it was released and still sells well here. I wouldn't call it a vacuous synthetic floral at all — it does have a modern feel, but I think it is pretty. And at least twice I've asked somebody what they were wearing because it smelled good, and the answer was Michael. Still, for a heady tuberose, personally I'd rather wear Fracas.
By the way, they recently released an Eau de Toilette version but I haven't tried it yet.
Thanks so much to you and Angela for info and suggestions. I found the Makeupalley site and sure enough huge responses, some well informed and very useful.
I am waitng for a sample of Fracas, having forgotten all about it until I read some of your brilliant reviews and comments. I'm new to your site and I think it a fabulous place – I love the intelligence, eloquence and personality of the articles and the friendliness and generosity of the posts.
Having lurked for a while reading everything I can I have ordered a range of samples of some of the most thrillingly described scents and and can't wait to try them. (This is the only excitement I'm allowed as I'm chained to my computer trying to finish the last chapter of a very overdue book!)
I began the same escapist fantasies over the huge range of different rose types a few years ago and ended up researching all those wonderful old fashioned cabbagey roses (I mean who could resist 'Souvenir de la Malmaison') buying one of each and planting them – with mixed results, but absolutely ravishing scents every summer – although with global warming some are still blooming now…….
Thanks so much for such an entertaining and informative site.
Funny, I went through a rose frenzy a few years ago and ended up planting Jacques Cartier, Zepherine Drouhin, Louise Odier, Mme Isaac Pereire, and La Reine Victoria, among others. All this on a tiny city lot. Besides occasional blackspot, they've been great.
Good luck with the last chapter of the book. I can recommend Bois de Violette, Bois des Iles, and Le Dix for concentration (something about the drydown).
Yes, Yes, Yes, all wonderful roses, Mme Isaac Periere one of the best velvetty reds – and the smell…Perhaps that's why I love Mogador? I'm glad your roses are flourishing in the city. They can be the most robust of plants, just lots of love and a bit of manure!
Thanks so much for the scent recommendations. You've made me think not only about scent as the mood and life enhancer it is, but as a brain support too. How interesting and helpful. I will definitely try these essences of concentration, lord knows I need some help at this point! Ebay here I come….(oh no! more delightful distractions from the necessary slog)