Where has the summer gone? I don’t really want to answer that, because it’s mostly been occupied by work… I’m hoping that along with the cooler temperatures, the autumn will bring a more reasonable pace—we shall see.
My perfume choices haven’t been as varied, which also means that I’ve gotten to know some regulars a bit better. Somewhat like when you’ve become very familiar with someone and they reveal a tidbit in conversation that adds a dimension to how you see them, although it doesn’t change your view of them overall.
I tend to prefer getting to know people through exchanging opinions on a common experience, which can be as simple as the decor of the room we’re in, rather than playing “twenty questions” from the get-go. Does one truly know someone better once one has the facts of where they’re from, where they’re “originally” from, what their parents do or did for a living, how many people are in their household, how they met their spouse (if they have one), etc, etc? Or do these morsels simply form a demographic filter through which all other input is received?
Apart from this approach making the conversation feel stilted—and stunted—in the moment, on my end at least, the emotional cost feels wasted when the information is forgotten by the next interaction, if there is one. I’d much rather exchange factoids organically after a connection has been established intuitively. Does anyone else feel this way?
Relating this point back to perfume, the enjoyment seems to be greatest when a fragrance is well blended, and the brain lights up in response to it as a whole, without trying to parse each individual note. Of course, we perfumistas probably then want to name the notes and try to detect the ones listed by the brand. Presumably, though, we’re not trying to deconstruct it to the actual formula upon first sniff! (Are you?)
Several perfumes I’ve worn regularly have surprised me with individual molecules suddenly “escaping” into my nose after hours of wear. More perplexing is that the experience isn’t readily repeatable, even with many subsequent wears. Specifically:
- Heeley Note de Yuzu: This is bitter yuzu and cold aldehydes, time and again. Very linear. Just once, a metallic oxide wafted up from my clothes… and then it was gone. It felt furtive.
- Roos & Roos Oud Vibration: Oud dressed in rose, raspberry, incense, and some spices. Powerful sillage. Who knew it could be boosted by a cloud of citrusy aldehyde mid-wear?
- Akro Infuse: A smoky tea that I wish would last longer and enhance the floral facet of osmanthus. I’ve almost used up my 30-mL bottle and won’t replace it. By way of reassuring me that the apricot register is indeed in its DNA, it finally bared a note of gamma undecalactone—the key to peach accords. Not before, and not since.
Has this happened with any of your perfumes?
Nose Prose 
I know I’ve experienced this before, but can’t recall any right now. If any come to mind after this, I’ll come back to you. I know what you mean regarding conversations and prefer the less factual approach. Although with my journalist / interviewing focus, I do sometimes find myself asking a lot of questions. Must stop that NOW!
A great read, with lots to think about. Thank you.
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It’s different when you have a press badge! 😉 I do ask people some mundane questions as well, but try to incorporate it into banter so it feels more give and take.
I suppose fragrances will find a way to surprise longtime wearers, whether it’s weather dependent or by changing over time.
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My impression of fragrances can change over time, sometimes from overanalysing them. I find the scents I really fall for are those that tell a story in my head. It may not align with the back story in the marketing & it could be as simple as an image it conjures up. Marlou Poudrextase gave me a clear image of a single bead of sweat on a postcoital thigh.
These perfumes I do not want to parse the notes of, for me it kills their magic.
It’s the same with people. Striking up a conversation with a stranger & finding you share a view, even if it’s as simple as enjoying the view from a certain park bench. These conversations can strike up a single moment of joy or a lifetime of friendship. Being grilled by the 20 questions is like being interviewed. It never sparks joy or any commonality
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That’s a very vivid image! I think I have a similar reaction in that the greater the immediate, emotional impact of a perfume, the less I want to parse it out.
This is why we on perfume blogs get along so well! The exchange of experiences with a common interest and getting to know each other’s personalities through our content and expressions. It’s very cozy.
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I like that! May be we need to start a “Cozy Corner” thread somewhere
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Lovely idea!
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Dunno how long comments can stay open but will research for my next piece
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I’m with you on this, Nose Prose. It can feel like an inquisition or a police interrogation to open up conversations with factoid-type questioning. As you point out, most people have forgotten the information by the next interaction. As for perfume, although I’m more inclined to spend more time with well-blended perfumes than those that I react to poorly, I still try to break both of them down. However, I don’t do this straight away. After a few wears, I like to start to put the pieces of the puzzle together. That includes trying to dissect the notes and questioning how closely the perfume connects to the marketing material and the perfumer’s intentions. Whenever I write about a new perfume on my blog, I’ve usually worn it at least 3 or 4 times. Technically, my first impressions are more like third or fourth impressions. It’s interesting with Infuse, although it’s one of Akro’s best, I went in wanting the leathery facets of osmanthus to be more apparent. I got a soft leather on my initial wear, but then on subsequent samplings, I didn’t get it all. Instead, it was vetiver, fruit, and tea.
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Sometimes the less well blended perfumes give their notes away as they separate and take turns being prominent.
My best experience with Infuse was probably the first sniff in the store, where I bought it on the spot. It’s always left me wanting more since. I’m glad you reminded me of the vetiver because it didn’t stand out to me, but probably contributes to a lot of the background.
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Everyone can appreciate a well-balanced perfume. While I may be curious about its notes, I don’t spend time trying to analyze it in the beginning. Interestingly, it’s the perfumes that perplex me that make me try to understand what I’m smelling and how the perfumer’s creation and my perception align.
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The perplexing ones are indeed irresistible to decipher!
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