Every fragrance addict owns a few scented products that she (or he) privately opens just to sniff, even when she’s not using them; they may be actual perfumes, lotions or soaps, or even hair products. My latest confession in this area is my strange need to unscrew my jar of Kusco-Murphy Bedroom Hair and inhale its fragrance every time I spot the jar sitting on the bathroom counter.
Bedroom Hair is certainly attractive enough to leave out in plain view, unlike the squeezed-out tubes and brightly colored plastic bottles that are concealed under my sink. Its label design is a little bit romantic and little bit rock-and-roll, with gold, monogram-like letters scrolling across a purple background. The product inside is similarly enticing, a shimmering golden gel.
Best of all, this styling product has a fragrance than I can only describe as Classic French Perfume, in capital letters: a rich floral with a citrusy opening and few carefully chosen spicy notes in its vanillic base. Its ylang-ylang heart recalls No. 5, in some simplified but convincing way, and its lemon and vanilla remind me of Shalimar. I’m not saying that Bedroom Hair is intended to pay tribute to either of those icons, or that its creators would even have any idea what I’m rambling about, but these are the associations that immediately came to my mind (or rather, to my nose).
Bedroom Hair is a finishing product, meant to be applied sparingly to dried, styled hair for texture and light hold. A dime-size amount is enough for one use, and it really is best worn on thoroughly dry hair, as I discovered the hard way when I rushed it onto my still-damp head one morning. Used as recommended, it gives non-sticky definition with a soft, matte finish. The shimmer disappears once the gel has been applied, which is fine with me. Unfortunately, the fragrance also evaporates quickly, but it’s intoxicating while it lasts.
The only thing that I don’t like about this product is the description from the Kusco-Murphy website, which promises that “Bedroom Hair is the equivalent of a ‘Roll in the Hay’ in a jar.” To which I say, with equal eloquence, “Whatever.” Its fragrance, at least, is far more sophisticated than that description.