Poison - Christian Dior

Poison is perhaps the fragrance that best typifies the 80’s, and I’m sitting here with an genuine vial of the juice circa 1986 that my mother bought on her honeymoon 3 years before I was even conceived. It certainly wasn’t an easy artefact to get my mitts on, it took 3 days of dedicated pleading to obtain the stuff, but here it is, centre stage on my nightstand: 50mls of indigo hued Dior retro chic. Only down side: I’m not allowed to wear it indoors for risk of causing migraines to all those nearby.

Taking a whiff of the fragrance in it’s bottle, I can almost taste the rich herbaceous quality of the coriander and, even when prepared to smell a headache inducing strength perfume, I’m taken aback. The scent seems not to simply emanate fumes, but liquify any air nearby down to a syrupy fug. When I apply a little to my wrist the intense headiness is only exacerbated by my body heat and if you do happen to be at all squeamish about fragrance, I’d wager this would be the point when you would head to the bathroom to scrub yourself Poison-free. Luckily I’m blessed with a constitution that can stomach potent scents, but in the July heat even I struggle to not feel smothered by the fragrance. That said, it is a delectable aroma. The fragrance opens with a deep, ripe berry niff that gives the scent a pleasing depth without any candy sweetness. The all spice and anise in the composition begin to appear within the first few minutes, peppering the fruit with a less than subtle spicy heat that keeps things nice and smoky (if you’re looking for your next summer spritzer, AVOID).

The vanilla bubbles up unusually quickly for a heart note but has excellent staying power, heroically outlasting every other ingredient whilst not overpowering the entire ensemble. It’s a fairly milky-sweet vanilla note in Poison, very cleverly implemented to add contrast to the slightly piquant heat of the spices. The melding and parallelism of these 2 edges of the olfactory triangle creates a wonderful sense that Poison is indeed a potion created with true alchemy, not just another store bought perfume.

Somewhat disappointingly, the scent lightens just slightly after around an hour, still retaining it’s headiness but shedding a little of it’s smoky weight. That said, it does hold up it’s vanillic spice very well whilst subtly introducing a smooth sandalwood note that feels distinguishable even against the plethora of other scents knocking about Poison’s repertoire. The wood dries things up, leaving the moist fruits well and truly behind but encompassing the spice well. The dusty spicy blend in the drydown feels relaxed and easy yet still holds a vague pungency without which, Poison wouldn’t be Poison.

Dior’s 80’s powerhouse tells the story of a good night out. There’s the juicy anticipation, the rich, dark decadence of the bars and the calm yet sensual haziness of the 6am romp between the sheets. It is what it is, so wear it boldly, wear it seductively, but most importantly, don’t wear it around your mother, she may get flashbacks.

Angel - Thierry Mugler

According to Youtube perfume fanatic Katie Puckrik, Angel is “drama in a bottle”, and as someone who has always found the dramatic somewhat of a turn on, I was intrigued...to say the least. The notes are listed as bergamot, helional, fruit, honey, vanilla, chocolate, caramel and patchouli which, to me, sounds like an extremely odd blend for a fragrance which is marketed as a classic feminine. Of course the fruits, the honey, the vanilla, the chocolate and the caramel all match up with the image of stereotypical girlish sweetness complete with high pitched giggles and marshmallow hued puff pastry frocks, but when a perfumer decides to dabble with the dry, earthiness of patchouli in a scent, they certainly aren’t looking to create just the next simple, feminine fruity floral. In the latest ad campaign for Angel, Naomi Watts, draped in a feathered baby blue gown, strolls out onto an opulent balcony and gazes across a city far below, glowing like a sea of fireflies. As aforementioned, this image exemplifies lightness and classic femininity, but if this is what you expect from that first giddy little spritz of the juice, be prepared for a very rude awakening.

When I first applied Angel I was, to be brutally honest, horrified. Instead of the misty, clean whisper I was anticipating, Angel introduced itself with a thick, heavy bawl of smoked fruit. All I can grasp when I first smell the fragrance is ripe red berries sprinkled over a fillet of smoked mackerel. I really am revolted and I challenge any self respecting human not to be. This repulsive niff is potent, too, and certainly travels. I simply can’t escape it and boy, do I want to. In case you find my condemnation of Angel’s first moments as a hideous olfactory car crash overly harsh, try it. It’s weighty, heady and horribly smothering, it has structure, but what is that if the resulting scent is sickening?

After the initial painful introduction, it takes me around two hours to begin finding anything positive in Angel’s composition. When the fragrance begins to change shape, I find the vanilla growing in stature with the smoky overtone still lingering but the volume sliding downward by the second. What came cantering in, guns blazing, is now a lame horse and within this third hour the smokiness will have limped away to a quiet demise. Now, perhaps it is Angel’s design, perhaps it’s my own psychosomatics, but although the smoky richness has well and truly died by this point it still seems to leave a whisper that melds all the other remaining notes together. Am I just imagining the lingering smoke? Is my brain simply clinging to the smouldering depth that Angel blasted me with when I first spritzed? Perhaps, but it’s a testament to the art of perfumery and, more specifically, the genius of Angel’s creator, Olivier Cresp, that the scent can remain in memory and continue to shape the other notes.

The vanilla drydown feels accomplished. After half an hour of this silky, quite cool vanillic base the remaining sweet notes begin to creep out from their hiding places. The caramel presents itself as a different facet of the vanilla in that it is influenced by the vanilla and provides a palpable sweetness that remains perfectly dry rather than rendering down to a gag inducing syrup. The chocolate hits the blend here too and, unlike many other fragrances, it isn’t a bitter dark undertone. This is the kind of sweet kick of chocolate that could send a five year old into an extreme sugar high. Interestingly, even at the point when it reaches temple aching sugariness, Angel still doesn’t slip into tween-town. Olivier Cresp has managed to craft the fragrance so carefully that it can be toothsomely sweet whilst still maintaining it’s adulthood throughout.

Angel is a scent the highlights the art of perfumery. Every stage in the perfumes lifespan is just a chapter in the overarching story, and although sometimes personal tastes will not confer and traditionalists may take offence, it is undeniable that Angel is an expertly crafted creation. Personally, I will not be purchasing this perfume, and there are several reasons for this. The first and most fundamental is that I simply can’t stomach the top notes. Secondly, although very pretty and well built, the drydown is just not my style. That said, I wholly appreciate the skill and thought that has gone into making Angel the bizarre masterpiece that it is.

Anna Sui - Sui Love

I can stomach Sui Love, and I know that doesn’t sound like much but given my utter boredom and borderline repulsion with another of Ms. Sui’s fragrances, Sui Dreams, being able to not vomit when I smell this one is an unambiguous step in the right direction. The first discernable note I can distinguish when I spritz the juice is a bland little hiss of passionfruit, vaguely juicy, fairly satisfying with a pulpy feel and a little tartness, but entirely predictable. When the passionfruit vanishes, (this happens in less than 60 seconds), there emerges a passable powdery floral note that, although extremely dull and nothing I haven’t seen a thousand times before, does it’s job and is relatively pleasant. It could be jasmine, could be tuberose...it really doesn’t matter as the scent becomes so very faceless that I’m simply too bored to care.

I am told there is a pink pepper note somewhere in amongst the perfume’s heart, but try as I might (and I certainly do), it just doesn’t show itself. If the pepper had been well implemented (think Armani Mania) it may just have been enough to intrigue me, but alas, twas not to be. The fragrance groans on, drying down from a dusty sweet floral heart to a bland vanillic base with not a single daring note in between. As I expected, Sui Dreams has a poor lifespan. Mine survives for around five hours, give or take, but the point is that this doesn’t upset me because I simply don’t care about the fragrance.

Once again, Anna Sui has created a scent that will be adored by tweens around the globe, but Anna, when will you design a perfume for grown-ups? There seems so much potential in the Anna sui brand, with her quirky chic designs and general whimsiness (not a word, don’t care), to release a fragrance that is carefree and childlike yet feels adult. Maybe that’s what Ms. Sui aims for here, I certainly cannot comment, but I can say for sure that Sui Love is just another saccharine fruity-floral in a very pretty bottle.

Diesel - Fuel For Life Her

I’m not particularly excited by Fuel For Life. The bottle doesn’t strike me as exciting, the notes don’t strike me as exciting and, as brands go, Diesel isn’t the most revolutionary perfumer around. So, when I first approach the fragrance department of Boots, my lips are pursed and I hold an air of supreme condescension.

They say pride comes before a fall, and they ain’t lying. When I take my first sniff of Fuel For Life, I am fully expecting a classic, tiresome, alcoholic blend of dead fruit (the mandarin top note and blackcurrant heart), dry spice (the pink pepper), weak florals (jasmine and patchouli) and a sad little musk whimper trailing behind like a slightly brain-dead sidekick in a children’s cartoon. What I get defies expectation. Put in words as simple as I can muster, Fuel For Life Her is beautiful.

The scent’s opening is a spicy fruit concoction with an underlying sweet heat, it feels very ripe, very complete and the mandarin top note comes across perfectly. I have encountered, and become jaded because of, countless scents that practically hurl a swathe of sugary fruit up your nose (think of pretty much any celebrity fragrance marketed to tweens), so I’m grateful to Diesel for their interestingly different way of translating the fruit into perfumery. The pepper, like the mandarin, is in excellent shape. FFL doesn’t apologise for it’s heat, nor does it overexert itself with spice, it strikes an angelic balance that I have yet to see improved upon in any other fragrance.

The blackcurrant, which I was expecting to make an appearance in the heart notes as specified, materializes much earlier. I perceive a faint background of this dark, vaguely sharp scent within the first few minutes of applying the fragrance. The blend at this point still smells wonderful, if a little crowded and indeterminable, and although not listed as a note at any level, I can detect a hazy dark chocolate, bitter truffle smell which gives the composition gravity. On the occasional sniff I can sense the fragrance veering into a slightl chemical artificiality, which is a little disappointing, but the expert crafting always manages to re-centre the perfume around it’s olfactory notes before this becomes anything more than a minor niggle therefore no-one but the most ruthless critic will even perceive it.

Rather than ever actually stepping into spotlight, the jasmine tends to remain backstage. I actually approve of this decision on the part of FFL’s creators Annick Menardo and Thierry Wasser, as a heady jasmine sucker punch (such as can be found in the delectable Alien) would likely just kill the fragrance dead, smothering every other note in it’s repertoire. What we are presented with is a ghost of jasmine scent that is neither timid nor boastful about it’s existence. It feels well placed, subtle and, best of all, seductive (a word I rarely have the privilege the use when describing perfumes). I imagine the fragrance would function perfectly well without the jasmine, but it’s inclusion is still just fine with me.

With the drydown comes a little smokiness from the patchouli which works very well given the notes that have come before it. Combined with the musk, the base is warm and earthy. There is a little saltiness from the savoury patchouli which keeps things from becoming at all syrupy sweet, and the delectable blackcurrant from the heart still holds up, adding tangible succulence to a very shadowy finale.

Fuel For Life Her is a one of those rare instances where a perfumer manages to construct a fragrance in which every single note holds it’s corner. Like Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with her three-course-dinner chewing gum, I am transfixed at every stage of this perfume’s lifespan. This dark, satisfying juice, I would wager, is a great evening fragrance and is perfectly represented by it’s ad campaign in which various French lovelies get up to all manner of naughtiness in dimly lit surroundings. A round of applause to it’s brainy developers for creating a scent that is both inventive and different yet suitable for the mass market. Nice work.

Issey Miyake - A Scent By Issey Miyake

Issey Miyake’s A Scent by Issey Miyake is supposedly inspired by “pure, fresh air” and when I spritz a pump of the juice onto my arm I can indeed associate the product in question with it’s inspiration. A Scent is fairly clean and certainly dallies with freshness but sadly, as with 99% of perfumes that purport to be pure, it just misses it’s mark.

The scent has an alcoholic opening that sadly moves south of the fragrance border and into floor cleaner town. While there is a lightness here, it simply gets strangled beyond recognition by a headache inducing chemical niff. The initial smell is greenery and is neither particularly pleasant nor excruciatingly awful. After 20 minutes the lemon of the composition drifts into view but never quite manages to do much more than timidly tiptoe by, always keeping it’s distance. I waited for a refreshing dash of fragrant citrus, but I waited in vain. The alcoholic coldness dissipates slightly here but, as is often the case in perfumery, never quite lets the olfactory notes speak for themselves.

The woods that make up the base of the fragrance are a pleasant finish and inject a little masculinity. When they appear, they seem to mingle rather well with the alcohol that clings to the scent throughout it’s lifespan and I’d wager that a man would find this perfume easily wearable. It certainly holds a lot of similarity with numerous aftershaves I’ve come across in the past. That said, it is an extremely droll masculine, taking it’s place among the thousand other chemical woody green-florals.

Rather than being cooled by this fragrance, I am simply left cold. While it does have it’s original moments (an opening of passable dewy greens), it is dragged down at all points by an overbearing alcoholic burn that chokes every single note in it’s repertoire. If assembled just slightly differently, this scent could be intriguingly androgynous, but as it is I would advise prospective purchasers to sample Tommy Hilfigers Tommy Girl. However, don’t avoid this one entirely, give it a sniff and let me know what you make of it in the comments.

Anna Sui - Sui Dreams

When I first stroke the juice onto my wrists I’m not in the least surprised by the scent I’m greeted with. Sugary, fruity and blonde, Sui Dreams smells remarkably like cheap women’s deodorant. I could declare this insight to be a disappointment but it simply isn’t, it is precisely what I was expecting. There is a distinct alcoholic niff flanking the initial notes (listed as bergamot, bitter orange and tangerine), which just compounds the artificial feel of this fragrance and prevents what could have been a pleasantly soft vanilla scent from flourishing. What we are instead treated to is car air freshener, complete with headache.

In the description of the base notes, Sui Dreams supposedly possesses a “distinctly oriental flavour”. Again I am left wanting. Admittedly, the fragrance does dry down to the soft woods that are advertised as the base, but the alcohol just refuses to shift and allow the scent to mellow and develop naturally so, as before, it feels entirely artificial.

I imagine this scent being passed around along with a stolen tube of lipstick at a slumber party full of eleven year olds who still have the sweet tooth that will appreciate it. As for me, my fondness for sugar and spice and all things nice has simply dissipated with age, rendering Sui Dreams an unpalatable, unsuitable and unbearable fragrance. Heed my advice, wake up and avoid this oversweet nightmare.

The Journey Begins...

In perfumery, as in life, it is important to distinguish between inner and outer beauty. We may encounter many human beings who astonish us with glamorous hairdos, freshly varnished nails, exquisite bone structure, but do looks tell us a thing about a person’s spirit? Occasionally, yes, but rarely. You probably know by now where this is going and, yes, sometimes a fragrance’s bottle is a precursor of the quality of the juice inside, but more often than not a beautifully elaborate vial holds the perfumery equivalent of manure, and the simplest plastic box spritzes out a fantastically structured juice (think Gucci Rush).

On this day, the 22nd of July, 2010, I begin my journey into the darkest reaches of the fragrance jungle. I will no doubt come across the giants of the perfume world, the landmarks that one would see from space (think Chanel No.5). These obscenely popular (and, in many cases, expensive) products are what most of us associate with the face of perfumery. But what else might I stumble upon? The beautiful flower with the hideous, deadly thorns? The grotesque creature that secretes fabulous, hallucinogenic oils? That one single blade of grass that is inexplicable mesmerising, no matter how many other practically identical fellows it stands amongst.

So wish me luck and read on, because with every new scent I encounter I’ll be laying down my breadcrumb trail so that other can follow in my footsteps. Hopefully, when I emerge from this maze of perfumery, smelling like a hooker’s handbag and with a nose that simply cannot take any more sniffing, it will be a simpler and much more organised place for all who journey after me.