The perfumed world does not smell the way it once did. The balsamic orientals of the 20s and 30s, the oakmoss chypres of the 40s and 50s, the civet bombs of the 60s, bitter greens of the 70s and the powerhouse floral elixirs of the 80s are largely going extinct. They have been replaced by a scent trend I disparagingly refer to as "candyfloss water". Occasionally I will catch a whiff of a great one from decades past, but not very often. These days it's as if people are afraid to be smell-worthy. When I do recognize perfume on someone, it's one of the fruity vanilla baby powder concoctions that might as well be a drugstore body splash due to it's worthless sillage and piss poor longevity.
Do I sound snotty? Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just fed up with this growing idea that wearing REAL perfume is rude. I try hard to be moderate in application, but I also feel that wearing too little is stingily wasteful. If I can't even smell it, what is the point? A few weeks ago I received a warning from a manager to tone down the perfume at work. I honestly think the implication was "No more Paloma Picasso on a Monday morning" but of course that wasn't said. I didn't think I was wearing a very large amount, especially because I work in close proximity to a woman who is quite honest with her opinion regarding my scent of the day and she absolutely would have told me if I had gone overboard, which she hadn't. Never the less, it was bothering someone and I agreed to be mindful of my choices and to use a light hand.
I looked through my extensive collection and picked a handful of fragrances that were certainly "office appropriate" (See my previous blog post on not being a weirdo for some idea of what those are). But within a week of rocking the same 3 perfumes over and over I was angry and bored. I made up my mind to not spend 40 hours a week feeling that way. The heavy hitters of yesteryear deserved a fair shot and I was determined to learn just how to wear them. I decided to try an experiment. For one work week, I would wear a different big sillage beauty in small amounts. The point wasn't to be rude, the point was to teach myself how to display their beauty properly. Here is what happened.
MONDAY: Estee Lauder Private Collection. My introduction to this unique one was actually when a mini bottle was gifted to me by a colleague. This is very much THE favored smell of the 1970s. It's a potent green full of oakmoss and chrysanthemum, but I saw no crinkled noses all day, even after half the mini leaked into my purse.
TUESDAY: Christian Dior Poison. Here is the true sillage bomb test. Can one wear Poison to the office and live to tell? Seems that I'm learning moderate application because not one word was said about this iconic plummy tuberose potion that everyone thinks they hate. I took that as a major victory. By the way, this one changes on me immensely as it wears, journeying from fruity to floral to smokey to wood as the hours pass. I love a fragrance that tells a little story and I love the way this still clung to my hair at the end of the day.
WEDNESDAY: Galanos. I had a little sample of this one (launched my birth year!) and thought it appropriate for this experiment. Sniffing from the vial I was like "whoa everything going on here!" On skin it wears a bit like a cousin of Opium or Youth Dew but without the overpowering incense or spice cupboard feeling of those. Galanos is the quieter relative, with a spotlight on florals like geranium and carnation. She is restrained. I noticed herbal qualities of bay leaf or some coniferous needles. This made it feel fresh and not at all dated. Again, no one commented on my scent being noticeable.
THURSDAY: Rose Cardin. While not extremely vintage, it's still a nod to times past. Pierre Cardin introduced Rose Cardin in 1990 and it rides the fence of either being a screaming neon pink mini skirt or a classic navy blazer. A rose patchouli with serious throw, this was from an era when rose patchoulis had not yet been produced by everybody and their mother's fashion houses. Reminded me of Barbie dolls from my childhood. Nobody said anything perfume related to me... until the late afternoon when I received a flask of Chloe Love in the mail and spritzed the powdery, supposedly inoffensive juice on my wrist. My co-worker recoiled, saying it reminded her of baby diapers. Interesting that the first perfume to receive a comment all week was single spray of the oh so modern and gentle Chloe Love, which had been touted as perfect for daytime wear.
FRIDAY: Muguet de Bois. For the last day of my experiment, I chose to celebrate early spring with a vintage floral gifted to me by a dear perfume loving friend. Coty launched Muguet de Bois in the 1940s and it has remained a best seller for decades. It is a true soliflore, very green and fresh. However, it does come from an era where women wanted their perfumes to be noticed. And this was noticed, but in the best way! Three different people commented on the lovely lily of the valley aroma in the office as they approached my work area. One woman even looked around for a vase of flowers, that is how realistic Muguet de Bois smells. Like a wet garden on a warm morning in May. And who in the world is going to complain about the smell of a real flower garden?
All in all, my experiment was a success. I learned how to wear my favorites in moderate amounts and my office mates had no complaints. Will I continue to wear things like Poison on the job? Probably not, as some scents deserve more focused appreciation than I am able to devote while distracted with work. I'm not one to save perfumes for a special occasion but I do appreciate the strong connection of smell with memories. For that reason there are a few I will save for times I'm guaranteed to be happy and relaxed. I would hate to sully one of my greatest loves by wearing it to a day of crabby clients and paper cuts. And those low sillage "skin scents" that I love ought to wait for a special night when a special someone gets close enough to love them too.
