It has been said of great poetry — as well as of pornography, of course — that you know it when you see it. A few perfumes have struck me with an analogous revelatory force.1 Many of my favorites have crept up on me, gaining in beauty and mystery over the course of several exposures. In a small number of cases, though, a first encounter with a fragrance has been more like being within 50 feet of a lightning strike: no immediate definition or description does the matter justice. Since my perfume hobby started, I've watched the epiphanies of several of my fellow fume-heads. Upon processing the first sniff, two enthusiasts have wept. One friend laughed in surprise, and another pirouetted. My reaction to such new love is to blush beet-red, regardless of whether there is anyone around to witness my surrender. Apparently, if I am greatly moved, my sympathetic nervous system must become involved.
Does it say something about me that I have spent a great deal of time ruminating on these singular events, trying to identify a unifying thread? (Short answer: yes.) In fact, I have noticed there are similarities between my own heart-struck moments. First, I can remember the circumstances of sampling these fragrances well enough to be able to reflect on the affairs afterward. I have a very poor long-term memory, yet I find I am able conjure exactly when I first tried all of the perfumes below, and where I was when enlightenment dawned. A related similarity is that the timing must be right. It is rare to fall under the spell of a scent while one is distracted, grieving or suffering. (And timing determines setting. Admittedly, I was once mesmerized by a personal cloud of Serge Lutens La Myrrhe in an Arby's bathroom. I doubt distraction, grief or pain had driven me there, but as I soaked my hands in warm water before soaping, I was suddenly overcome by blush-inducing wave of sillage. I don't flatter myself that it was the world's most incongruous backdrop for rapture, but I have not returned to an Arby's since. I believe this is the exception that proves my second rule.) Third and finally, a striking fragrance is more than the sum of its parts. Smelling distinct notes with no magical resonance between them has sometimes been enlightening for me, but it has never been enthralling.
Ormonde Jayne Frangipani: Just over ten years ago, an Ormonde Jayne sample set was one of my first niche purchases. In these early, carefree days, I was not as systematic about sampling as I am now. One bright and breezy May day, I spritzed on... something, threw the vial back in the box and headed out to race the clouds in the high blue sky. Dashing back after my walk, I tried to determine from the notes pamphlet which scent I had applied: citrus, something green, a radiant floral heart and cedar base. Unfortunately, I somehow convinced myself it had been Osmanthus and rashly gave the Frangipani sample to my mother-in-law a week later. I wore Osmanthus three times that summer, with increasing confusion each wearing. It took me two years and another bunch of samples to recognize that my lush, sunny paradise was Frangipani.
Guerlain Chant d'Arômes: I took a trip to Paris about eighteen months after my perfume madness began. One of my pilgrimages was to the renovated Champs Elysées Guerlain flagship store, which has been renovated again since. Available in 2007 was a little quadrilobe bottle of Chant d'Arômes Parfum. I love and respect Chamade, but for me, it is Chant that should have been named for the drumming of a heart. Graceful, doe-eyed and as pretty up top as a rosebud posy, the Extrait also had a chypre dry down that mysteriously smelled like turned soil. A sales assistant told me I should take the bottle, it was one their last, but I was scandalized at the time by its price, the Euro equivalent of $185 for 30 ml, and I resisted. Ah, the folly of youth.
Parfums de Nicolaï Odalisque: Before I tried both vintage Diorissimo and this perfume in the same lucky week, I was under the impression I did not like lily-of-the-valley. Where the Dior was a music-box ballerina come to life, all effortless poise, the Nicolaï was more tensile, a Suzanne Farrell, as bending and sharp as green-gray marram grass. I love them both now, and many other muguets besides, but Odalisque is the one I wear.
Parfums MDCI Enlèvement au Sérail: A school friend sings in the famed Tafelmusik chamber choir and seven years ago he recommended I attend their spring performance of Mozart's Requiem. I am a goof as regards classical music — I can just about recognize a piece by Handel or Shostakovich, if I bump into it — but my tenor knew Miloš Forman's "Amadeus" was one of my favorite films.2 By happy accident, I sprayed on some Enlèvement au Sérail before the concert, forgetting its new name referencing the Mozart opera. I was briefly arrested by the mink-coat opening, and then I trotted off to Trinity-St. Paul's. In the middle of the Kyrie, a gorgeous apricot-jasmine trail surrounded me, as caressing as a feather, and I realized it was me: classic Jungian synchronicity.
Amouage Ubar: Yes, it's quite zaftig, but it's also cool and lemon-bright and wind-scoured, a bit like a cat-eyed Nahema. I started (and blushed) the first time I smelled it, and it still seems to me like an incredibly wonderful and improbable floral-oriental.
1. An analogous revelatory force to poetry, to be clear.
2. Was anybody else deeply moved by Wes Anderson's casting of F. Murray Abraham for the frame story of "The Grand Budapest Hotel", in tribute to "Amadeus"? No? Well, never mind.
Note: top image is Yellow [cropped] by Dave W at flickr; some rights reserved.
The folly of youth. You kill me! I lived in Paris for over an year, brought perfumes back for the entire family and nothing, nada for myself. Thank you for this very personal list. The Frangipani story made me literally LOL.
The restraint! I am very impressed. I love giving gifts, but I’m not sure I could avoid sneaking in just a leetle bottle of something for myself. Or maybe some Mariage Freres or Dammann teas…
Oh, I brought over a hundred kilos of books and many, many bottles of wine for myself! It was not restraint, but too many stupid launches filling the shelves plus a fear of aggressive saleswomen that prevented me from properly sampling before I had you, perfume people, to back me up!
Oh, books and wine, you lugged home my other two precious commodities. I admire your taste, then, if not restraint. 😉
I have had those bolt-of-lightning experiences a few times. My top five would be:
Dior Poison (original formula, back in 1986). I smelled this on one of those scent cards in a magazine, not the best way to judge a perfume. Nevertheless, I kept rubbing it on my wrist and sniffing over and over again. After a day or two of that, I realized I needed to order a bottle in spite of my college student budget.
Shiseido Feminite du Bois. I had read about this one, looked for it, and found it in a department store. It must have been about 1994 or 1995. I sprayed a bit of it on, and was immediately mesmerized.
Guerlain Vol de Nuit and Guerlain Parure. The same store that had FdB had a Guerlain counter with a wonderful selection, with just about everything Guerlain was selling at that time (most stores just had Shalimar and Samsara). Every time I went in I would try out one or two of their perfumes. Parure and Vol de Nuit were the two that were love-at-first-sniff. Had I known what its fate would be, I would have bought backup bottles of Parure.
Ormonde Woman. I also got a box of samples, and this was the one that I had to have. This was also one of my first online perfume purchases.
I wonder how many commenters will mention Guerlain and Ormonde Jayne scents? Quite a few, I’d wager, given their richness and development. I also thought about Bois de Violette or Feminite du Bois for this post. I don’t own bottles and neither are particularly “me” but they both had that stun factor when I first tried them and in 1994 or 1995, FdB must have seemed a totally new silhouette.
A cat eyed Nahema! HA! I can see that in Ubar!
One day when I was walking near central park west I popped into a coffee shop and the woman in front of me smelled fantastic-she was wearing Chanel No 22. I wanted that instead of my coffee.
When I was in high school we took a trip to Italy, that is wear I bought my first perfume with my own money. It was Fiori de Capri, this is when you could only purchase the perfume from the store on the island. I remember that moment- when I took a sniff-it was heaven. Sadly, after my move to college it got lost in the shuffle. Years later my father found it while cleaning the basement. It smelled awful. OH well!
Shalimar is still one of my favorite orientals. Its taken me a while to appreciate the opening. I seemed to only like it after and hour or so. Now I can appreciate how the perfume develops on my skin. I feel like its a fragrance that has matured with me. Not sure if that makes any sense.
Oh good, I wondered if you were all going to think I was stretching. Ubar and Nahema do smell related to me in spirit, if not exactly in structure or in terms of notes other than the rose.
Oh no! It smelled awful because it had turned, or because you had grown out of it? Maturing along with a fragrance (or out of it) certainly makes sense to me. I think I had to similarly grow into L’Heure Bleue, for example.
It had turned. Even the color was odd looking.
I have never smelled L’Heure Bleue- one day
Drat. I guess you’ll always have Capri, though – what a wonderful memory.
Your blushing is the cutest thing!
I have the occasionally swoon over perfume myself. Vintage Mitsouko was the biggest. I want a vat of it.
Well, it’s kind of you to find it cute. I find it relatively mortifying. At least I’m not a fainter. 😉
NST’s Angela once sent me vintage Mitsouko *EdC* that was a revelation – a vial of emotional shivers.
Thanks for a really enjoyable post, Erin.
Thank you for letting me know you enjoyed it, I’m glad.
Oooh, what a great idea for a post! I haven’t smelled any of your euphoria perfumes but now they’re on the sample list. I remember the first time I wore L’Heure Bleu and being overcome with emotion. I had no idea a perfume could make you feel sad and nostalgic when it had no connection to any memory (yet!). Spiriteuse Double Vanille was love at first smell – like wearing a cashmere blanket while sipping scotch despite being in a very uncomforting place in my life when I first smelled it.
That reminds me of Luca Turin’s comment about Gucci’s Rush, one of the first perfumes that I fell in love with: “What Rush can do, as all great art does, is create a yearning, then fill it with false memories of an invented past”. Or, one could posit, as you did, it can create anticipatory nostalgia. Jung would have surely had something to say about that!
Really great post, Erin. I have to admit I found your blushing reaction just charming…and you’re right fainting would be quite hard to handle.
I’ve been stricken by several scent experiences but a few actually made my eyes roll back in my head and some sort of weird noise pop out of me like ‘urghhahhooh’…Coromandel, Shangri La, Eau des Merveilles. 🙂
You are too kind, thank you. Yes, I’m too suggestible and am glad the era of fainting and hysterical paralysis has passed – people never seem to have those truly dramatic Victorian reactions anymore.
Although there is certainly dramatic flair to ‘urghhahhooh’, too 😉 Love Shangri La and I bet there will be others mentioning Eau des Merveilles, also.
This was wonderful reading, Erin. I didn’t have access to many perfumes back in the ’80s, when I could afford to buy a few of the common department store scents. I remember trying, and buying, Grey Flannel in Marshall’s, but the perfume that captivated me was Wrappings. I bought it immediately and later the body lotion. And it still thrills me.
Ooo, I love both Grey Flannel and Wrappings. And layering the thrill, that sounds like a good idea. I keep meaning to get some Ubar body butter.
I remember being stunned by my first sniff of Chamade EDT. It seemed that I had never smelled anything so complex and alluring. I especially recall how vivid the blackcurrant top note seemed, or at lest in the bottle I had which was bought via eBay. I contacted the seller to ask the age and she said it was given to her in the early 90s but she had never liked it. The bottle itself was strangely ugly and yet interesting. After all that I somehow don’t much care for Chamade, either the EDT or the EDP, which I later bought. But the memory of discovering it is still great.
I must try Odalisque again. It’s a like but not a love. Great perfume though.
Ah well, you have the memory. It reminds me a bit of those studies they’ve been summarizing recently on news sites that say you should buy experiences (travel, event tickets, etc.) rather than things, because we mentally tend to devalue possessions over time, while memories tend to glow brighter and grow more valuable to us psychologically afterward. Maybe I am unwarrantedly nostalgic about both my trip to Paris and Chant d’Aromes, who knows?
Great post! I, too, have wondered what my swooners (opposite of scrubbers!) have in common, and What It All Means. Azuree. Ma Griffe. Spellbound. Jardins de Bagatelle. All sniffed at department stores, and all, weirdly, before my perfume obsession became “informed” via the internet.
Yes, that is interesting. I think maybe I’ve only had swooners *since* I started looking for online perfume information.
Double rainbow! What does it mean? (Is that meme dead? I haven’t heard seen it referenced in a while.)
Azuree is wonderful, by the way. But you knew that.
Argh, there was supposed to be a slash in there: “heard/seen”.
I love your list but unfortunately I’ve only tried Odalisque. She did not please me though with her harsh green fists.
I think the one fragrance I can 100% sure of being head over heels at first spray (more due to my laughable Swiss cheese memory) is Epice Marine. That rush of sweet and cirtusy spices is an effect I could wear forever. I bought my bottle a week after I sampled it. My only regret is not being able to afford the 200ml one!
I did once find a treacle-y scrap of My Sin parfum once that was so utterly gorgeous I couldn’t help myself but to use it up. I’ve found various other tidbits over the years but none were aged to perfection like that one.
I also spent an entire summer dabbing on Vol de Nuit parfum, hoping it would never end. One day I’ve have a full bottle of that one. One day.
Love “harsh green fists.” You need to avoid Corsica Furiosa, then!
I usually love poisonous green, though. Vintage Miss Dior is my bed time fragrance more times than not. Something about Odalisque just feels like an oil slick, or some sort of traditional Chinese medicine.
Well, we don’t all have to be bewitched by the same things. Do you know when you tried Odalisque, though? It has been significantly reformulated since the IFRA regulations on oakmoss, hedione, etc. came into effect in 2010. I find the current version considerably less salty than the original and with much less floral sheen in the heart, and the top notes smell greener and less blended to me. But if either version smells like an oil slick to you, perhaps it is best just to give up on it!
Epice Marine is an intriguing one for me. It’s definitely arresting, but I’ve never actually been able to tell if I *like* it. Since I keep going back to try it, I suspect it is going to eventually win me over.
it was probably 2009, from Luckyscent. I’d be amenable to trying it again though sadly there isn’t a PdN counter anywhere near me.
I just can’t get over that initial burst of Epice Marine. It always makes me smile. The sad thing about the Hermessences is that price dooms them for lukewarm feelings.
If you’re in North America, it’s a bit hard to find a Nicolai counter anywhere, sadly, except L.A. and NYC.
There’s definitely a burst with Epice Marine! If I ever had the money for a full bottle Hermessence, I would buy Osmanthe Yunnan, which is another one I thought of for this post. I’ve been getting along on travel bottles so far.
That’s interesting. I bought my decant of Odalisque from TPC and I had a look at my account there to check when. All my old orders have gone! They have not kept the data. I’d say it was less than five years, so I may have the newer one unless it was decanted from an old bottle. It smells fairly green to me.
That’s odd! I always go back and look at my old orders, so that would frustrate me. Maybe it happened because of the split between the TPC trio. Yes, the newer one is greener, in my opinion.
My first swoon more than 30 years ago was for Jacomo de Jacomo because he wore it and I was in love. That’s poetry for me. Fast forward until I entered ‘fumista territory: Consciously or unconsciously I realized that 1) I had been wearing Robert Piguet’s Bandit since 1978; 2) with little embarrassment I stalked a restaurant patron until she told me it was Dior’s Hypnotic Poison and ca-ching, immediately purchased. 3)reading all these blogs (and it began with NST Miss Robin) I decided I must try Guerlain’s Jicky, and right there on Sak’s main floor in NYC I bought the expensive full blown perfume. Then there was another NST catalyst after reading about Piguet’s new Knightsbridge that I convinced a friend traveling to London to go to Harrods and purchase it for me, with no sense of how it might smell on me…….well I was over the moon. Bam! No. 5 is Amouage’s Ubar. A little dab will do ‘ya. There’s my five line sonnet for you.
Ah, the double swoon, we can’t forget that one. Strangely, I’ve never fallen in love with somebody who wears fragrance… unless we count my mother or daughter. (Love at first sight! 🙂 ) My hubby has asthma and sinus issues and has never once worn scent, to my knowledge.
Jicky was my gateway drug to Guerlain, and almost to perfume, too. A bottle of the vintage PdT was one of my first purchases, right around the time of the OJ sample set order.
It’s a pleasure to read your writing. Thank you.
Aww, thanks back at you, you’re all so sweet.
And now that I’m on a plane and have some more time, I’ll share two of mine:
1) The instance of perfume-inspired euphoria that sticks out most vividly for me is the moment I tested L’arte di Gucci for the first time earlier this year. AnnS had sweetly provided me with an array of rose scents that I was happily making my way through, and I came to L’arte. The word “transcendent” came to mind and I created an account on Ebay that same day just to buy myself a bottle. My ardor may have calmed slightly in the eight months since but I still find it to be exquisite.
2) Osmanthe Yunnan for me isn’t as much about euphoric joy as it is about profound contentment, which seems like a more serene variation of the former. My memory of this one is perfectly ordinary – laying in bed one night and choosing from the Hermessence samples I’d gotten at the store earlier in the the day. I applied it to my wrist, cuddled into bed, and found it made me feel almost sublimely at peace. I think this one is an understated masterpiece.
Circumstances aren’t usually that memorable, as I’m generally just testing samples at home or in a department store. I suppose it did help that I began wearing 1999 J’Adore at an elevation of 7,800 feet, where the thin air may have contributed to its rush of sheer joy.
I have encountered many perfumes that are so fabulous that I’d consider them rapturous. Going back only to the 1980s and 1990s, I’ll start with Annick Goutal Passion and Heure Exquise; Caron Tabac Blond and En Avion, as well as Demeter Tomato and 1999 J’Adore; in the 2000s, Tauer Perfumes L’Air du Desert Marocain, Amouage Homage Attar, BK Beyond Love (the tuberose), Dipyque L’Ombre dans L’Eau, SL La Myrrhe, vintage Lanvin Pretexte,and the L’AP harvest perfumes: Iris Pallida, Fleur d’Oranger, and Fleur de Narcisse. Others would include vintage Chanel Coco, La Via del Profumo Mecca Balsam, SL A la Nuit, Amouage Beloved, Roja Dove Diaghilev, Les Nez Manoumalia, Histores de Parfums 1969, SNM Melograno, Frapin 1697 Absolu de Parfum, PG Cuir Ottoman, vintage Eau Cendree, Knize Ten, and Aftelier Tango. I should include a vetiver, but I’m not sure which one. Ha, ha – this is way out of control and I still feel there are GRAVE omissions and apologies due to my preciousssses. 😉 Very recently, I can say Canoe Goods Skive, Bruno Fazzolari Lamp Black, and PG Tabac Tabou have really thrilled me.
Right, I forgot vintage Guerlain Vol de Nuit.
This stuff is so achingly lovely!
That’s quite the list! I see many of my own beloveds there, including AG Passion, Tauer L’air du desert marocain, Amouage Homage Attar, Coco EdP and my favourite Aftelier. And you’ve given me further prompting to try that Canoe Skive, which I don’t know how to get ahold of — loved the sounds of it from the Luca Turin review.
Thanks for fun post, Erin. Thinking about it, I probably more want to settle in with a fragrance than to swoon. Ecstasy is strenuous. HdP Ambre 114 and 1969 Revolte have both done it to me; perhaps because of that I can’t wear them too comfortably. Do like Odalisque, but the newer one has lost some intrigue, at least to me.
Ecstasy is strenuous – ha! Probably quite true. I know what you mean about wearing comfortably. I don’t wear Enlevement au Serail often, likely for the same reason. It’s a lot of emotion for the average day. I can see how HdP 1969 would fit that category.
Yes. *sigh* Odalisque has changed. I think the reformulation was as respectful as possible, but it doesn’t have the same euphoria factor and mystery as the original for me, as well. I do find the current version good for every day, though — it’s less rich and more focused on the lily (after the greener start) and sort of reminds me of Frederic Malle Lys Mediterranee, which I wear regularly on days when I don’t need to think too hard.
What a great post! I admit instead of the blushing reaction I get an almost confused reaction… Like my cat Ghostie – whenever I eat warm chicken she comes walking around with nose slightly bobbing up and down sniffing and looking confused as to where that delectable smell is coming from.
That was my reaction to the first formulation of PdN Le Temps d’une Fete. It was in a beautiful bottle in a small French boutique in SF – before the bottles became more spare. I spritzed it and just couldn’t get over it. Had to have it – it truly was “my precioussss” that first time I bought it. A few years later in Paris I bought Odalisque for my Mom – she still has a small amount left. The SA convinced me to buy that and Number One. I couldn’t wear either. Something that just doesn’t work on me. I think I gave the Number One away.
Did not have that immediate reaction to Frangipani. I blind bought it at the OJ Black Friday sale last year (travel sprays) and just wasn’t sure until one day I started to absolutely love it. I wore it a lot this past summer and am so happy I have it.
Completely with you on PdN’s first iteration of Le Temps d’Une Fete, LizzieB! Found it many years ago in a small shop somewhere in South Kensington that we just happened to walk past – didn’t note down the name, it probably doesn’t exist any more anyway – bought it right there & then – & was most put out many years later by the assistant in the PdN shop on the Fulham Road insisting that the bottle I was sniffing was a brand new fragrance called Le Temps d’Une Fete & I must be imagining things! If I didn’t live 500 miles north of said shop I would have popped home to bring her the box with the label on it that I still have from that original purchase…
Beautifully written, informative & entertaining article, Erin, thank you.
Carolyn, it is often forgotten that Patricia de Nicolaï has re-used names. Le Temps d’une Fete was previously another perfume in her line and then she revamped it and re-released in 2006. I believe she did this before with Eclipse, as well? Can’t really remember, but I think also Week-End à Deauville, though the time between original and re-release was shorter.
My blushing includes confusion, I think, or at least it is often accompanied by a furrowed brow. But I love Ghostie’s reaction and will try to bob my head from now on.
Tell your Mom to treasure her bit! Le Temps d’une Fete is so wonderful, too, I figured it would come up here. What an enchanting line Nicolai is.
My instant fragrant loves may either manifest themselves as tears (Promesse de l’aube), a great big grin (Vamp à New York), or a feeling that all may yet be right in this world (Rien and Heure Exquise).
It’s a great post, with the trying of Frangipani and the not buying of Chant d’Arômes as my favourite parts of it. One of the things I regret not buying the most, is a bottle of Paris extrait de parfum I saw years ago, for a very reasonable price online somewhere. Even after all these years I still wonder why sometimes.
Ah, the ones that got away, how frequently they seem to be extraits. I’m just thinking about Estee Lauder Tuberose Gardenia in the parfum. Do they still make that? I should rush out and buy some.
I am impressed you instantly loved Rien, it’s so gutsy. I almost sold it or gave it away a few years because I didn’t wear it much. (I believe someone gave it to me in a swap in 2008.) But then I wore it one day, and the light came down, and the angels sang, and now it’s one of my most indispensible bottles.