In the north part of town is a shop, The Meadow, smaller than some bedrooms. When I visited, it was a wet, spring day, and I opened the door to a divine fragrance. The store's humid air carried the scent of the shelves of single-origin chocolate bars on one side, the two walls of salt from around the world, a display of bitters and digestifs open to be sampled, and the flowers for sale in the center of the store: lilies, freesia, roses, and more. Wow, I thought, I want this in a perfume.
Have you ever considered your ideal perfume? Imagine this: you're seated in an airplane next to an engaging stranger you discover is one of your favorite perfumers. He or she offers to create for you any perfume you want. What would you choose?
For me, that's a difficult question. I would love an old school chypre led by an unpredictable fresh note — maybe lovage — with a wine-like heart that smells like a floral Riesling tastes. And a touch of leather. Maybe that combination would be a disaster.
I do love a crisp, green chypre. But why would I have one of those made when there are so many terrific green chypres out there? Givenchy III, Estée Lauder Private Collection, Yves Saint Laurent Y come to mind right away.
Of course, a big oriental would be wonderful, too. I'd love a fragrance that invokes the feeling of lounging by the fireplace after an autumn dinner with friends. The dog is on the couch (naughty pup), the smell of dessert lingers, little glasses of brandy dot the coffee table, and one of my friends is talking about his trip to Turkey. The thing is, the market is lousy with delicious orientals, from Guerlain Shalimar to Chopard Casmir to Mauboussin by Mauboussin.
And when dreaming of the perfect perfume, let's not forget the beauty of an aldehydic floral with saliva-inducing pulchritude. Then again, Guerlain Vega has that ground covered.
Maybe we can't predict the perfume we love best. Maybe the unexpected aspects of the fragrance are part of its allure. When I opened The Meadow's door, I smelled something new, and it enthralled me. The same is true for many of my favorite perfumes — for instance, Ormonde Jayne Woman, Christian Dior Miss Dior, and Parfums DelRae Mythique. I couldn't have asked any perfumer to create something like them for me, because I had no conception of them, and I certainly didn't anticipate liking them so much. But once I'd smelled them I knew I always had to have a bottle.
So, to the perfumer in the next airline seat, I'd have to say, "Surprise me."
Note: image is 20080122_1193 by hslo at flickr; some rights reserved.
Ahhh, The Meadow. That store is heaven. A boutique that carries chocolate, salt, wine and flowers? Hello!
And yes, I agree with you completely about the smell. It is swoon-worthy and the freesia we smelled that day was perfection.
Let’s go back soon!
T
By chance, I was just there today! It still smells as good as always.
Angela, you and Birgit of Olfactoria’s Travels (see here for her blog post today: http://olfactoriastravels.com/) must be mentally linked!
I have not replied to Birgit’s question of “What would your bespoke perfume be like?” because I don’t know what I want. I don’t!
I’d love a fragrance with notes of fresh cut grass, black tea, violet, freshly laundered linen sheets, gardenias down the hall, and the smell of my son’s hair after they’ve been outside.
But I’d also love a fragrance with notes of my grandmother’s peonies, her custard recipe, the musty smell of the basement in her old house, the apple trees in her orchard, the irises and roses in her yard, and the lemon polish on her pie safe, as well as the sweet tea she just made and just a hint of the cigarettes she smoked infrequently and warned me never to start with.
Or a scent of summer rain on dry earth, with basil and my birthday carnations and my mother’s cinnamon rolls and the nearly-astringent smell of freshly split firewood.
Really, I suppose what I want is a story, a feeling. And you’re right, so many things that already exist can do that for me. “Surprise me,” is the only thing to say…
Sorry. This is the link to the post, not simply to the blog:
http://olfactoriastravels.com/2011/05/02/monday-question-what-would-your-bespoke-perfume-be-like/
Mals, I love the pictures (stories?) you’ve painted here for scents yet to be created. I want all of these! I’ll add one of my own background: Mom’s favorite yellowy, peachy rose in bloom, the fresh scent of ripe, sun-warmed apples in the orchard waiting for harvest (I don’t want an apple fragrance though, just adding a component here), a dash of the dust under my feet, a smidge of the just-cut grass, and a dab of musk for warm bodies out in the sun.
That’s so evocative! I bet it would be a big seller.
Pretty…
In reading through the comments, it’s interesting how many of us want a fragrance that tells a story or brings back a place or person we love. I’d love to smell each one of your prospective fragrances!
Thank you for posting the link, Mals! 🙂
I look forward to reading it just as soon as my cup of coffee is ready!
As a kid, I lived for several years in a house with a beautiful garden, by the woods. There were about three days a year, when the lilacs were in bloom; when the magnolia tree was in bloom, and I could sit on the grass and smell them, as well as the pine trees, the grass and a slight tang of chlorine from a backyard pool.
Nice! I wish I were there right this very minute.
The Meadow sounds like my kind of store! I wish I could visit.
This is a fun question, one I have thought about many times. I have to confess that I too don’t really know what I would ask for.
I had no idea I would love Dzing! as much as I do. How would I ever come up with an idea like that of a perfume? One of the things I love about the world of scents is that I constantly find new accords I didn’t knew I liked. For instance, I don’t like incense… but I LOVE the incense note in no 22. So apparently I do like incense… or do I?
However, I have yet to find a perfume that resembles my absolute favorite scent. The smell of the woods warmed up by the sun. Nothing beats that! No baby’s skin, puppy’s paws, lover’s neck etc etc etc. So that is probably what I would ask the stranger to create for me.
You bring up such a great point–sometimes we really don’t know how much we’d like something. We think we detest patchouli, then fall in love with Coromandel, for instance.
What a great question!
I want a perfume that smells like black tea, cinnamon, vanilla, leather and civet. If that already exists, PLEASE TELL ME!
Other than that . . . yeah, surprise me . . . because that “wow” when I open a sample not sure what the heck is coming at me is what I love about being a perfumista.
Sounds like a slightly skanky Tea for Two you want. Have you tried Donna Karan Chaos?
I haven’t tried Chaos though I do have a small bit of Black Cashmere, which I enjoy.
If I needed to layer two fragrances to achieve my dream scent that would be fine but I’m not willing to compromise on the skank . . .
I’m glad to know you have your priorities!
Ruth, I love Tea for Two, but I’m still searching for a tea scent that captures the herbal astringency that I love about strong black tea–with maybe a bit of jasmine? Yum. . .
Definitely in the “surprise me” camp here… Otherwise, I’d have ideas for several perfumes, never just the one. That’s why I never thought the idea of a bespoke perfume appealing. It becomes made-to-measure when you make it yours, doesn’t it?
Yes! Of course. As a perfume mixes with your world, it really becomes your own.
I’ve always wanted a perfume that smells like a combo of my garage (motor oil, grease, damp wood, mulch) and a girly floral (rose, jasmine, iris). Maybe something like Andy Tauer’s Hyacinth and a Mechanic, which I never got to smell. I’d call it Garage Pin-up. However, I have to admit that many of my favorites are things I’ve been surprised with. For example, Amoureouse was something that I got an unsolicited sample of, and I loved it at first sniff. I would never have thought to buy a sample, wouldn’t have thought it would have appealed to me.
Maybe Hyacinth and the Mechanic will be perfect! Or you could layer Lonestar Memories with a floral.
There have been so many perfumes I’ve been sure I wouldn’t like, then ended up having to have some of my own.
Jirish – I got exactly what you just described from Breath of God!
Breath of God would be a good one to try – it is many things to many people – lol.
Now I really need to try this!
Angela, I would love a perfume that smells like a floral Riesling tastes! I’m not sure what my perfect bespoke fragrance would be like, but I can think of two simple (?) requests for the parfumeurs of the world:
1) A perfect Daphne odora soliflore.
2) A frangipani with the smell of the sea in the background (something like what Diptyque did with tuberose in Do Son).
Oh, I wish I could smell frangipani by the sea in real life sometime! It sounds like heaven.
Isn’t the OJ Frangipani supposed to be salty? I’ve never tried it, but I think I remember just reading that description somewhere.
I’m not sure about the OJ. I tried it a while back and dismissed it because it didn’t smell like real frangipani to me. I really should give it another change – maybe it was an off day for my nose, or something. I know Robin loves that one!
There are rows of linden trees where I live, and so that was exactly the way I felt about Zeta! 🙁
Interesting! I enjoyed trying Zeta (disliked the opening; liked the drydown), but I much prefer D’Orsay Tilleul – another good spring scent, come to think of it. Have you tried that, and did it smell like real linden to you?
Yes, it’s a heavenly combination. We should have a perfumista convention in some wonderful tropical locale. Our hotel rooms would all open up to a garden filled with lush island flowers…
Great idea, H.! 😀
Oh, sign me up for sure!
Hey, we’ll all just come visit you in Hawaii, H! 😉 Where should we stay? Maybe somewhere in Kauai?
Definitely Kauai, Karin!
Love your new gravatar, Haunani! I’ve always thought frangipani was the perfect flower archetype – both its simple, perfect form and its scent – so I’d adore a true frangipani perfume, with or without the sea.
BTW, have you sniffed Rosine’s Rose de la Mer? I’ve been waiting for warmer weather to test it more thoroughly, but first sniff was rather nice.
Hi, Nozknoz! I have not tried that Rosine yet, but I want to. And speaking of frangipani, I just tried a fragrance by Envoyage Perfumes called Nectars des Iles. It’s a tropical blend combo featuring two different kinds of frangipani. I’m smitten. You might really enjoy it, too!
Ah – I hadn’t heard of this line yet – and they have sample collections, one of my favorite things! Thanks for the recommendation, Haunani!
hmmm…my problem is the perfume I’d request would probably turn out to be something I couldn’t wear. No particular order? Smells of smoke, leather, incense, dirt, wet stone, skin still hot from the shower, faint tinge of hot metal, a little bit of new plastic, clean hair and crushed juniper branches.
Why yes, yes I have thought about this way too much.
I smell a novel in there somewhere. Maybe even a mini series…
Maybe you wouldn’t wear it, but I think I would….
Oh, don’t get me wrong…I’d definately try!
Cruel, Angela, cruel! When I read the headline, The Perfect Perfume, I was so excited as of all of the writers here, you are the one whose perfume tastes most closely mirror mine. What a bitter disappointment! 😉
Your chypre description sounds very much like what I get from Roja Dove’s chypre, Unspoken. There seems to me to be a bit of a wine note in the center along with a soft suede in the drydown.
I’m in the ‘surprise me’ camp as well. I’d love to say that to Jacques Guerlain – although Jean Paul Guerlain, Roja Dove and Laurie Erickson all would please me.
I’m still searching for that perfect perfume, but lucky for me I’m enjoying the challenge!
Well, until recently I would have asked for a perfume that smells like I *want* Shalimar to smell like, since it doesn’t seem to be Shalimar. However, last week I tried on By Kilian Cruel Intentions and it hit the nail on the head. Total HG. I can’t even describe why, or what it is. I doubt any of the notes are even the same.
So, I guess I would be in the “surprise me” camp as well.
Nice article as always! I want to go to that shop.
Don’t you wish we could find our HGs more often at the drugstore? I hope you scored a bottle of the By Kilian and are loving it.
There is a Kilian event the day of the Sniff and he will sign my bottle for me – I’ll be picking it up then. Can’t wait!!
Hurray! I’m so jealous of all of you who will be there.
How exciting, Tama! I hope you’ll tell us what he was like someday! Enjoy!
I always wanted a true wisteria fragrance that really smells like wisteria vines growing on warm stone walls. Most wisteria fragrances are just soapy and bland.
But my *real* desires are 1) Bellodgia EDP, the way it used to smell, and 2) Apres l’Ondee EDT, the way it used to smell, with more staying power.
I wish there were a scent that also captured the “feeling” of wisteria–those gorgeous, drippy blossoms on gnarled stems twisting over a porch. Perfect.
Yeah, I’d love some of that Bellodgia and Apres l’Ondee, too!
Oh I’m definitely in the surprise me camp! This morning I was inhaling that wonderful scent of all of my perfumes together. When I open the drawers or hat boxes, this glorious smell emerges and I find myself pausing to appreciate that special blend. I’ve been known to close it all back up without applying anything because some days the real thing is a let down in comparison.
I love that “more than the sum of its parts” fragrance too! I used to smell it while walking past department stores’ fragrance counters, though not so much now in the days of fruity everything.
I’d think smelling the combination of the scents you love–instead of what the market loves–would smell better together. Kind of like furnishing a house with things you love, and magically they go together.
You must be right! That’s why my perfume/sweater cupboard smells so good to me now. Filled with favorites!
So true–sometimes just a general “perfumey” smell is better than any one alone.
I love the smell of Perfume Cabinet… particularly the vintage stuff in there, all blended.
“Surprise me” would have to be my line too, with the proviso that I could ask for further surprises until one (or more!) REALLY thrilled me. Spoiled, no?
Oh yes, surprise me regularly! That would be the best.
I guess I’m in the surprise me camp too although I would love a fragrance that smelled exactly like real petunias. Mind you, I may have found my new HG in Dior’s Mitzah.
“smelled”? I mean “smells”.
It has been a long day.
I’m so glad to hear you mention the scent of petunias! Most people don’t think of petunias as scented.
“Surprise me” is such a wise choice, Angela!
I visited Muir Woods on a cool, misty day and the smell was amazing. I’d love that! And some viburnums I’ve sniffed recently would make wonderful perfumes.
Usually, though, I’m wishing a perfume could be adjusted to my nose (i.e., to compensate for my hyperosmias or anosmias). For example, I’d like L’AP Timbuktu with about 10% of that salty celery/sweat note, or Guerlain Vetiver pour Elle with 10% of that modern musk, or to be able to really smell L’AP Mure et Musk, which feels like it’s just on the edge of my ophthalmic range. And there are a number of perfumes whose top notes I prefer to the heart.
It would be nice to have a perfume personal assistant who could customize our favorites for us. I’d have three versions of Femme, each with a different concentration of cumin, depending on my mood.
Ha, ha – I’d love to hear your description of the mood for each concentration!
Oh yeah, there would definitely be a distinct mood. Watch out for the cuminy mood!
LOL – sounds like an useful alternative to the protective patchouli force field! 🙂
The idea of “Surprise me!” is an enticing one. I would love to be surprised mostly by how that perfumer on the plane seat beside me sees me, how he would think I was like and what I would love. His idea of me, the picture he gets of me reflected in a perfume, to smell that, is an intriguing idea.
I know just what you mean. I’m always doubly curious when someone tells me “You should see this movie, it’s so you,” or “I saw this necklace and thought of you right away.” How do they see me?
The medow sounds like a wonderful place!
I wouldn’t mind a bit of that chocolate now… 😉
I also wouldn’t mind sitting close to matilde laurent or dominique Ropion on an airplane and disconver that they’re willing to make a custom scent for me!
I do own several beloved fragrances, but I often find myself wishing to tweak that top note a little, round a corner there and add a thorn here…
I would bring to Matilde Laurent my favorite classic Guerlains, her own XIII heure and attrape coeur, and extend myself in long explainations; I would bring to Monsieur Ropion my favorite white florals and tell him why I love them all, but why none is my Shalimar/Mitsouko equivalent of that cathegory…
I definitely have several “dream perfumes” in my nose, and in my quest of those imagined scents I often stumble in new surprising loves!
I like the fragrance ideas you have! Laurent and Ropion could come up with something marvelous, I’m sure. In the meantime, as you say, there’s a lot of fun in the search.
I dont know my notes or chords well enough so I would have to go -surprise me. But, I’m pretty sure that NO perfume would please me ALL the time; well OK, Cocoa does come close…
So true. Better that the perfumer make a dozen fragrances for you!
( : I reserve monogamy for romantic relationships!
You have your priorities straight!
Again with the story-based scents….orange blossom, car exhaust, and pending rain. It reminds me of my post-college years, which I spent in Athens teaching English.
I see the whole thing with just the list of those three notes! Amazing.
I have to tell you that “Surprise me!” is not always the best idea. I once did a commissioned knitting piece for an artist friend who made me a stained-glass piece by way of payment. It was well made, but where I expected bright gemstone colours I got something much earthier, more to her taste than mine; I ended up giving it away a couple of years later.
I would tell that perfumer on the airplane to hunt down some real ambergris and oakmoss—-since we are dreaming—-and make me a carnation-based oriental chypre like nothing before it. That would be heaven.
Yes, I suppose with “surprise me” you stand the risk of getting something you don’t like, and the chypre you describe sounds terrific. Too bad about the stained glass–I hope the artist didn’t come to visit and notice it missing. At least with fragrance it’s easier to hide that you aren’t wild about it!
I gave it away after I moved to a different city, so she’ll never know. I felt bad about it, but it just wasn’t anything I would ever get any pleasure out of seeing the sun pour through. I should have been more specific. My fault, really.
But stained-glass OUGHT to be jewel colours! Its meant to induce visions of glory and spectacular epiphanies. Okay, maybe I’m stuck in the middle ages – but what was she thinking!
For the past year or so, I’ve had this lily-of-the-valley/cinnamon combination in my head that just won’t go away. Maybe I would ask for that.
… and you get bonus points for mentioning my beloved Vega
Wow–lily of the valley and cinnamon! I’m curious enough about the combination to take one of my lilies of the valley (just about ready to bloom) and sprinkle it with cinnamon to see what it’s like.
I have a hankering for an elegant, sophisticated blueberry perfume. Something like Philosykos but on a blueberry bush theme.
I can’t think of any perfume with a blueberry note. You’re on to something!
In aromatherapy, blue chamomile e. o. smells very similar to blueberries. Lutens’ Sa Majeste la Rose lists blue chamomile as a note (which, btw, is a gorgeous combination with rose), but I’ve never smelled that particular perfume.
I love the idea of “blue chamomile,” kind of romantic sounding.
Demeter makes both blueberry and blueberry muffin fragrances. I’ve not smelled them, but I doubt that they are sophisticated – probably fun though!
Probably not so good for a gal on a diet. Or maybe that’s EXACTLY who it’s good for!
I don’t even know what I would say except that I think there are already so many amazing fragrances on the market (my own collection doesn’t lie!), that it would be hard to describe wanting something more.
But I’d have to say my recollections of my girl’s head/hair when she was about 1 year old. She smelled predominantly like a dry rooty iris (similar to what’s in AG Heure Exquise) and soft warm baby skin musks – some almond, milk, or rice, a miniscule dash of civet or jasmine indoles, an equally small dash of vetiver and a dash of real nitromusks to give a soft warm powdery skin accord. I wish I could have had that headspace technology sniff the top of her head during that magical time she smelled like iris.
The only other smell I can say is that wonderful dry decaying smell of field and forest that comes in the fall along with crisp air.
Ah yes, the elusive and divine babyhead smell…
It is wonderful and too soon gone. Although her sunny overheated head still smells pretty good. I think Mals above said something about her son’s head after he’s been in the sun? I know exactly what she’s talking about.
Probably if we could get a hit of babyhead smell whenever we wanted, it wouldn’t be as special.
Oh my – what a great description of baby head smell!
And the bespoke sent that I want is “raking leaves,” which I’m just not sure is the same as your decaying field and forest because I’m impossibly bad at describing scents. I hope that my airplane seat buddy would just know what I mean by “raking leaves” or draw it out of me. Because like so many others, there’s a story involved. Of my dad and warm fall days at the house I grew up in. I wonder if one of the CB I Hate Perfumes might be what I’m looking for — I haven’t explored that line at all.
Raking leaves on a warm Fall day is *exactly* what CdG’s Patchouli Luxe smelled like to me! If you haven’t tried it, don’t be put off by the word “patchouli” in the name – I got NO patch from it, only the sweet smell of leaves in the Fall.
The “Patchouli” in the title does scare me, though I don’t have a problem with it as an ingredient when it’s not the primary scent. You’ve convinced me to try a sample, but heaven forbid I fall in love with it (at the price)! Wrong time of year to be thinking of fall leaves, but if I don’t order the sample now, I’ll forget.
I *wish* I hadn’t sent my sample on or I would happily send it to you. The only reason I didn’t keep it is that I *was* looking for a patch scent.
Gosh, I think I read somewhere that Patchouli Luxe was the fragrance Brosius himself wears. (Or wore when I read the interview, anyway.)
My dream perfume would be simple: the smell of kitty breath. So bad that it’s good!
Bad? But my kitty’s breath is as sweet as an angel’s blown kiss!
That is so true. You don’t realy know what you’re looking for until you find it!
I’ve been looking for a carnation fragrance I could love for years, though; it would be peppery, resinous, hot and dry but still with some of the sweetness of the flowers, and powdery, yes, but not in the cosmetics-smelling sense.
I would also like a fiercely green narcissus-centered chypre with lots and lots of leather. An opening in the same vein as Miss Dior, only greener; galbanum, narcissus, hay, oakmoss and a huge, fat, oily quinoline leather note. Vintage Bandit with narcissus.
I love the sound of both of yours!
Gosh, a greener Miss Dior would be wonderful. Maybe a slightly lighter, greener version for summer. That’s was Miss Dior Cherie should have been!
This might be silly, but the scent I’ve always wanted to come in a bottle is that smell right before it rains. You know when the air is all moist and it’s mingling with the grass and the trees and you can just feel the rain coming?? I don’t quite know how to describe it, but that (in my mind) is the best smell in the world, and if a perfumer could put that in a bottle for me I would die happy.
I know that smell! That ozone smell. Marvelous.
I would like one oriental like Marrakesh souk with sand dust, loads of colourful spices and floral gardens with fountains. The other one would be beachy translation – sea sprinkling waves, beach, sun, salt, hot skin and sea side greenery……….
I think more than wanting those smells in a perfume, I want them in a vacation–right now!
Another lovely and stimulating piece, Angela; thank you so very much. I don’t think anything beats surprise and if one could imagine true beauty before one encountered it perhaps something would be lost. Does encounter with true beauty require a degree of breath being taken away, and is that incompatible with full prior knowledge? Anticipation can reduce impact; beauty by ambush please.
Oh, I definitely see the link between surprise and beauty. I think you’re on to something.
the perfect fragrance has already been created – Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb 😉
but the only thing I’d change is make it smell less commerical and more extravagant and edgy rather than just “pretty flowers”, but still flowing beautifully with no sharp edges or harshness.
Hey, you’re lucky to have found your perfect perfume! I wonder if it were layered with something if it would pick up the qualities you want?