Frequent Questions: How & Where to Apply Perfume Effectively

How do you apply your perfume? Do you spritz on neck and wrists? Do you spray a cloud and walk through the mist? Do you dab from an old style splash bottle? Is there a wrong way to apply perfume? The method of application influences the way a fragrance smells and projects into the environment much more than what is called "body chemistry". Let's do some myth busting on this proper perfume application guide and suggest new and exciting ways to maximize your chosen perfume's potential, helping it expand at the pace you're comfortable with and last through the day.

Let's start with the most common myth: That perfume smells best on pulse points, specifically the wrists and behind the ears. Though it's a nice spot to bring up to your nose gingerly, you might be doing yourself a disservice. According to renowed perfumer Jean Claude Ellena (current in-house perfumer for Hermès) the Ph of the skin on the inside of the wrists can be a bit acidic/sour, thus subtly swifting the aroma of your fragrance. This is especially crucial with fragrant compositions which present tart or floral notes. Additionally, wrists are the places we often wear a wristwatch, bracelets or other jewelry and use to rest our hand on a mouse pad/handrest (here's a very pretty one!). These are materials which can also influence the scent of your perfume. A metallic watch or bracelet interacts subtle, while a leather band lends its own inherent aroma to the mix (sometimes in a good way and sometimes in a bad way). Not to mention that in the case of a mouse pad the transfering of different perfumes ends up in a haphazard mix-up rather than a deliberate olfactory collage.
A better area to use, if you want to be able to lift up your fragranced body part to your nose at any given time to enjoy, is the upper hand or upper forearm. Not only are these areas with a more consistent Ph acidity with the rest of your body, giving you a truer picture, the existence of slight fuzz (or actual hair for the gents) aids the projection of the fragrance to those around, prolongs its lasting power and aids its wake (what the French call "sillage").

Behind the ear is a rather bad place for perfume, too even if very evocative, immortalised in hunderds of advertisements and films due to its erotic significance of ear lobe kissing & suckling, because at the back of the ears there are glands which produce an oily-smelling substance which distorts your posh perfume. You can judge just how much your own glands produce by rubbing a wet towel behind that spot and sniffing (or giving a long sniff at the sidebands of your spectacles/sunglasses). Heavy consumers of dairy products will notice a curdled milk, butyric note that is rather displeasant (and which prompts the Japanese to consider Westerners as "dirty"-smelling). Those who eat a lot of spice will have a production of sulphurous byproducts which can make their fragrance smell rotten, heavy or sour.
The best practice is to forsake behind the ears application for the front of the neck (assuming you don't wear neck jewelry, especially pearls which get tarnished by perfumes). This also aids the trailing of your fragrance during social hallos, as the scent rises uniformly during being given kisses to the cheeks.

Spraying in a cloud in front of you and then walking through the scent mist to get just the right amount is a technique which began by the launch of Aromatics Elixir by Clinique in 1971. This method was especially divised to cater for the bombastic blast of this superperfume and was then transfered through all of the Lauder Group companies.
It is rather wasteful so best used for anything that has a projection and trail as big as a house (most Estée Lauder scents indeed), so it's perfect for Angel and the like if you're wary of offending but still want to wear such a powerhouse. (In the case of Angel, even waving a Q-tip soaked in it in front of you is enough to transfer enough scent for you to smell of it!). Use it if you're adamant that spraying in profusion is the last resort of luxurious abandon in a rationed age.

Another common myth says you're not supposed to spray on your clothes because that way perfume doesn't get the chance to interact with your skin. Though it is a wonderful, romantic notion, giving every woman the idea that her fragrance is hers alone, because magically the scent is different in accordance with one's skin, this is a marketing technique that was specifically conceived for Chanel No.5. To make the iconic Chanel perfume regain a bit of its individual cachet after the mass popularisation of it, following its exhibition in the army shelves market during the 1950s, some new approach was needed. According to author Tilar Mazzeo, in her book about the venerable classic and its history, the Wertheimer brothers devised this plan to make No.5 not lose its sense of being a precious commodity even though it had become a bit too accessible. (This was a concern after the infamous days of American GIs photographed standing in a long line to claim a bottle of the classic perfume at the Parisian boutique during Nazi-occupied France). The plan worked: The marketing line was added even into commercials well into the 1970s and Chanel never became Coty or Dana. Most contemporary fragrances -excluding all-naturals artisanal perfumes and a few with a particularly high ratio of natural ingredients in them- small exactly the same on most skins. Think about it; this is why we're so quick to recognise their trail on a stranger on the street or across the cinema!

Therefore, unless we're talking vividly coloured juice (such as Serge Lutens Sarassins which is deep purple and stains like ink would), you're quite safe with spraying your clothes (apart from silks). If in doubt, a small secret patch test on an inside corner will convince you. Perfume is retained best on cloth, especially natural fibers (linen, cotton, wool) and rich aroma materials such as vanilla, amber, resins and balsams of the oriental & floriental family (hence the concept of "cashmere wrap fragrances" or "scents on a wool scarf").
One especially neat idea is spraying the flanks of your body, extra handy when wearing a jacket, as the natural movement of your arms brushing off when walking releases and re-releases fragrant molecules as you go through your day. Yet another nice spot is under the jacket lapels, or spraying a handerchief and tucking it in your breast pocket. Spraying your clothes also presents the advantage of extending the perfume progression's arc, making the notes appear in slow motion; especially nice with fragrances with complex bouquets and full-bodied character in which you want to savour every phase.

Skin does play a role into how scent "holds", but not how you think it does! In the movie Chéri (based on Colette's novel by the same name) the older courtesan, played by Cathy Bates, says to her -poignantly coming to terms with aging- peer Michelle Pfeiffer (as Lea) "you retain perfume so much better now that the skin isn't as smooth as it used to be". This very characteristic observation of La Belle Epoque is also confirmed by top  perfumers working today, who add that the same applies to people with big pores; which -I infer- might explain just why oily skin (which often is more "porous"/bigger-pored by nature) retains scent better and longer. It might also explain why some obese people are considered "smelly" by some in the general population (it's not that they don't wash enough, but sweat might get trapped in skin folds).
The fascinating part is it all turns out to be a matter of simple physics, rather than of chemistry!


Hair is a particularly good spot for perfume. Sales assistants might say anything to discourage you from it (from implying your hair might catch fire if a stranger holding a lit cigarette stands close enough, to saying it will completely dry out your hair and wreck it). They're in the business to sell as much products as possible and there are now hundreds of hair mists and hair enhancing scented sprays to buy (incidentally, notably good are those in the Thierry Mugler, Narciso Rodriguez and Chanel ranges, quite true to the actual perfumes). Buy them if it makes you feel all pampered up and you're a completist, but if not, you're just as well with spraying your hair brush or doing a quick spritz/dab on the nape, letting hair pick up the scent and release it with every move of your head. Frederic Malle agrees:

"For a special occasion, apply perfume on the back of your neck. The heat rising up your body and the movement of your hair will diffuse the scent. Also, the oil in your hair is a fabulous fragrance keeper, so you could spray some in your hair too. Just don't do it every day because the alcohol will dry out your hair." [source]

Pop perfume lore handed down by sales assistants tells not to rub your wrists together when you apply perfume "because you'll crush its molecules". Nothing could be further from the truth! Molecules are not that sensitive to physics, otherwise the time-space continuum would have been shattered long ago. The most you're going to do is annihilate the top notes through friction (which generates heat, which in turn will aid the rapid evaporation of the most volatile ingredients in the perfume, the so called "top notes"). You're essentially losing the introduction to your personal fragrance. Given that many modern fragrances are specifically conceived to display a particularly attractive overture so as to catch the attention of potential consumers, it's a shame missing it! On the other hand, this is a quick & practical way to judge the "heart notes" or "core" of a fragrance (the middle stage) you're eager to get into, when pressed for time. It will give you an immediate idea of what it's about beyond the usual 30-minute window frame given for the dissipation of the top notes. Proceed accordingly. 


When not wanting to offend with your fragrance in an office setting or in close proximity with other people or in hot weather, you might want to consider other tricks to tone down your perfume's potency. One simple trick is to spray your calves (not the back side of the knees when it's really hot, as these naturally sweat a lot when we bend them to sit down) and let the perfume rise slowly. Since noses are stuck in the place they are and you're typically not dealing with midgets, most people will get a small amount of rising perfume and not a full blast coming off the neck and decolletage. Another, especially welcome tip for romantic rendez-vous is spraying your belly-button (make sure it's free of lint too!) or under the breasts (or the equivalent spot for men): The belly is warm, the scent rises uniformly and you're guaranteed a restrained sillage that gets more intimate & intriguing as clothes get off....

Last but not least, there is "the cotton ball technique" of applying perfume. This does not consist of dragging a perfume-soaked piece of cotton wool on your body to spread the scent. You would be wasting precious juice that way, as cotton wool is so very absorbent. Instead you're supposed to lightly soak the cotton ball with fragrance and then tuck it inside your bra. This provides a subtle scent that you yourself can perceive at all times (a little tilting of the head can confirm it) while it doesn't suffocate everyone around. 

Back in the old days they had a more romantic technique; dabbing from a dab-on extrait de parfum bottle using a silk handerchief which was then used to simply aromatize the insides of a feminine purse. Isn't it totally sublime? That way you're not contaminating the perfume with skin debris from your fingers or through transfering with the perfume dauber/stopper and you have a scented memento you can toss at any aspiring beau....


Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfume Myth Busting, How French Women Apply Perfume.

Myth Busting: Coffee Beans as a Method for Fighting Nose Fatigue?

We all know the drill, as perpetuated on the perfume counter: After a series of enthusiastic spritzing of every conceivable fragrance on the shelf our nose registers .....nothing. (This can also be an effect of too much of a specific class of aromachemicals in fine fragrance, for which you can refer to the linked article). So what have the shops come up with to counteract that nasal tiredness? They devised a technique of fighting boredom of the nasal passages with an aroma so strong and different that the jolting sensation would recalibrate our ability to smell: coffee beans. Freshly roasted, dark and aromatically pungent. Does the trick work? Usually not so well, in our experience. But now scientific research backs this claim up.

Do without the perfume-counter coffee beans, say Beloit College researchers

Beloit, Wis. – In an effort to offer shoppers a nasal palate cleanser (and presumably, to sell more fragrances), department store perfume counters have long been topped with small jars of coffee beans. As it turns out, they shouldn’t be. New research published by a Beloit College* professor and two of her students suggests that the beans are no more useful than sniffing the air when it comes to clearing the nose.

In a recently published report titled “An Exploratory Investigation of Coffee and Lemon Scents and Odor Identification,” psychology professor Alexis Grosofsky and two Beloit students, Margaret L. Haupert (class of 2011) and Schyler W. Versteeg (’12), put this common practice to the test using four widely available fragrances (Babe, Confess, Prettiest and Tempt Me). After several months of work they found that, “Coffee beans and lemon seem to have no special refreshing properties.”  

“Fragrance sellers,” they suggest, “may wish to reconsider the practice of providing coffee beans to their customers.”

The research is outlined in the latest edition of Perceptual and Motor Skills, a peer-reviewed bimonthly research journal. Read the full article online.

*Beloit College, founded in 1846, is Wisconsin’s oldest college. Hailed as one of a handful of “Colleges That Change Lives” by former New York Times education editor Loren Pope, Beloit draws students from 48 U.S. states and 40 countries to its residential campus along the Rock River in downtown Beloit, Wis. Learn more at www.beloit.edu. 

Myth Busting: What Fragrance Concentration Really Means (Eau de Toilette, Eau de Parfum, Eau de Cologne, Extrait de Parfum, Parfum de Toilette, After Shave, Mist etc)

Although received knowledge wants fragrance concentration to be synonymous with lasting power and "strength" of the scent, largely influencing selling price as well, the truth is a little more complicated, with obscure terms like Parfum de Toilette, Eau Parfumée, Mist, Esprit de Parfum, Eau d'Abondance etc. confusing even some of the more knowledgable perfume lovers! In this small guide, prompted by frequent questions by our readers on fragrance, we try to explain the different terms that pertain to fragrance concentrations with some historical data showcasing the reasons why.

The concentration of a fragrance refers to the concentration of aromatic compounds in the solvent; in fine fragrances this is typically ethanol or a mix of water and ethanol, as denoted on the list of ingredients/allergens on the box. Although a general guideline is presented about ratio of aromatic compound percentage, different perfume houses assign different amounts of essences to each of their perfumes, further complicating the matters. Most agree on at least the general truth of the following though.

Extrait de Parfum, also known as parfum or pure perfume (or even as "perfume extract" following the literal translation from the French), is the highest concentration of scent, containing 15-40% of aromatic compounds. According to the International Fragrance Association (IFRA) the typical percentage is closer to 20% than to 40%. Even though extrait de parfum demands high prices (sometimes stratospheric) and comes in the smallest bottle, making you believe that it should be the strongest concentration, it would be more accurate to say that is in fact the longest-lasting. Several extraits de parfum can be rather subtle and skin-friendly, wafting from the wearer in a less aggressive manner than a loud Eau de Parfum formulated with lots of "projection" or sillage potential. Especially in classic fragrances, which are epoque-representative (such as Guerlain Mitsouko, and Shalimar, Caron Alpona, or Lanvin's Scandal ) or in cult, rare scents, such as Hermes Doblis and Shiseido Nombre Noir, experiencing the scent drop by drop, as befits something precious is the only truly satisfying method of cherishing them.

Originally all fragrances came in extrait de parfum: The perfumer mixes the compound for testing before diluting to several variations. Colognes (or more accurately Eau de Cologne scents, which follow a traditional recipe of citrus & herb notes with very little anchoring by base notes, in reality being a trademark and a specific fragrance) were the exception and formed a category of their own; indeed these were also made in abundance by local apothecaries and pharmacies throughout Europe, each had their own "edition". When fine fragrance was democratisized in the turn of the 19th century, through the invention of aroma synthetics, and more pointedly in the 20th century when it became a veritable industry, perfume houses began offering an Eau de Cologne (EDC) version of their popular scents: This meant a lighter concentration (about 5% of aromatic compounds) in a bigger bottle, which would mean lower price and more juice to be splashed on. These Eaux de Cologne however were not the traditional recipe, nor were they only "lighter" in strength and lasting power compared to the parfums they interpreted. Very often, as is the case of Guerlain, classic Dior and Chanel fragrances from the first half of the 20th century and into the 1960s or even early 1970s per individual case, these Eaux de Cologne were formulated to contain more of the brighter top notes as opposed to their more concentrated counterparts, so as to provide a "sparkle" upon putting on skin, familiar to the consumer from the quasi pharmaceutical/aromatherapeutic use of traditional Eau de Cologne for all ailments. Thus the progression from buying at the chemist's/apothecary and buying at the perfume counter of a famous couture or cosmetics house was made seamless.

Testing a vintage Eau de Cologne (see Guerlain's excellent Vetiver which retains that wonderful tobacco-laced accord) by Lanvin, by Guerlain, by Chanel or by Coty often means a quite lasting fragrance, close -or even better lasting in some cases- than a contemporary Eau de Toilette! They also tend to present different fragrant nuances than other concentration, exactly due to different construction (as infamously evidenced in many Chanels).

Eau de Toilette (EDT), a concentration of between 5-15% of aromatic coumpounds, is also a time-honoured concentration catering to the needs of those who could not afford the precious extrait de parfum, yet still wanted to partake of the dream of glamour that perfume promised, or alternatively  the version meant for daywear, instead of the parfum which was indicated for night-time wearing, much like jewels in bobbed hair and silk satin. The phrase came from the French "faire sa toilette" which denotes the ritual of getting ready, getting dressed. Putting on perfume was considered the final touch on an exquisite presentation of the self.

The first perfume to have the parfum made as an afterthought is rumoured to be Coco by Chanel: Perfumer Jacques Polge was intructed to think of the Eau de Parfum, the popular 1980s concentration, while composing, rather than the denser extrait: By the time that Coco launched, the new generation of consumers were oblivious to the old habit of applying droplets of scent with the dropper/stopper and were familiarised with sprays which had become the norm throughout the 1960s-1970s, catering to the "women on the go". Sprays/atomisers by their very nature tend to dispense a lot of liquid, thus familiarising consumers with abundance. As the 1980s rolled their weird mix of consumerism, carnality, frantic social climbing and political conservatism, fragrances became more and more agressive, a form of olfactory shoulder pads. Thus the idea of a stronger concentration that would introduce the wearer before they even entered the room was born: Eau de Parfum (EDP). Typically 15% (and fluctuating between 10-20% of aromatic compounds), this is a concentration that lasts a long time and is very perceptible in terms of "waft". For those who were of the "bang for the buck" school of thought it also made perfect economic sense, being the best of both worlds.
In certain brands, there might be a separate nomination to denote that, such as millésime at Creed (a term borrowed by wine, denoting a particularly good year).

Some Eau de Parfum fragrances are in marked contrast to their Eau de Toilette counterpart: This might be one of the reasons why the scent you smell on another smells rather different when you buy a bottle yourself. Famous examples include Chanel Cristalle which in EDT is a bright citrus with a light chypre-like base, while Cristalle EDP is a full-blown floral chypre with honeysuckle emphasized in the middle. Yves Saint Laurent Paris is more powdery and crisp in EDT, while being sweeter and more liquer-like in EDP. Chanel routinely twists their fragrances to be slightly different within the different concentrations.
In rare occasions they're a completely different fragrance altogether! Rykiel Women (Not for Men!) in EDP is a sensuous musky-leathery skin-scent. In EDT it is a bright and sweet fruity floral! Elixir des Merveilles, the EDP version of Hermes Eau de Merveilles (EDT) injects fruity-chypre tonalities in the sparser woody-salty scent  ambergris formula of the original.

From then on, there is a bit of chaos. Generally speaking Parfum de Toilette (PDT) is the equivalent of Eau de Parfum, perhaps a bit more spiked towards the higher end of percentage of aromatic compounds (20%), a very lasting, velvety concentration. One of the houses that really rode this notion high in the 1980s was Guerlain, before dropping the term in lieu of the standard Eau de Parfum in the 1990s: Each and every one of their Parfums de Toilette in their popular perfumes was stellar.
Esprit de Parfum  (no abbreviation available for obvious reasons) is a term that is seldom used: Poised between EDP and extrait, containing almost 30% aromatic compounds, it is most famous from Dior who used the concentration in their iconic of the 1980s scent Poison: Interestingly Poison originally came in Eau de Cologne concentration and Esprit de Parfum (alongside extrait de parfum of course), before these two being dropped in favor of the more standard Eau de Parfum and Eau de Toilette in the 1990s.
Secret de Parfum is a specific variant used by Yves Saint Laurent for Opium in the mid-1990s: The maroon bottle involved lattice-work, the concentration akin to Eau de Parfum, but the subsequent substitution with a reformulation of the formula for the Eau de Parfum wasn't unjustified: the product had a greasy, opaque tonality that betrayed the better facets of the original perfume, while the newer Eau de Parfum was truer till very recently (till the 2010 reformulation). 

Perfume Mist, Brume de Parfum, Voile de Parfum, Eau Parfumée, or Eau Sans Alcohol is typically the lightest form of a feminine fragrance: The ratio of aromatic compounds varies between 3-8% while solvent is typically non alcoholic. This was necessitated for two reasons historically: The aerosol mists using propellant were formulated so as not to sting or squirt alcohol in the eyes. Secondly, in the 1990s, when concerns about the allergenic properties of fragrance became more widespread, companies introduced the notion of a non photo-toxic version of their fragrances so that they could be worn all over or at the beach. Some of these fragrances are specifically made as such, such as Dior Bronze "Sweet Sun", which incidentally is launched as "Eau de Bienfait" (approximately Feel-Good, Beneficial Water, as it was included in their suncare line Dior Bronze). Yves Saint Laurent has a very light Opium flanker called Opium Voile d'été.
Please note that the older the fragrance tagged "eau", the greater is the chance that it is quite decent in the smelling/lasting department (superior to a modern variant by the same name): witness Eau de Lanvin concentration for instance for several of their vintage perfumes (My Sin, Arpege etc.)

Masculine fragrances present a mix-up: While as we said Eau de Cologne refers to either the traditional Eau de Cologne recipe/trademark scent first made in Cologne, Germany, or the lighter concentration of a given perfume, many men refer to their fragrance as "cologne". This is mostly an American or Anglo-Saxon phenomenon, due to the reluctance of ascribing themselves as "perfume wearing" (considered effeminate).For instance in Greek the term "cologne" (as well as perfume) is used to denote fragrance for either sex.
More elaborate, additional terms after the name on bottles, such as extrême, intense, or concentrée might seem like indicating concentration but usually they pertain to completely different fragrances, related only because of a similar perfume accord: compare and contrast Chanel's Pour Monsieur and Pour Monsieur Concentrée.
After Shaves of non-lotion-consistency are more old-fashioned: These typically contain a fant 1-3% of aromatic compounds, meant to create a feeling of euphoria upon putting them on without stinging sensitive freshly-shaven skin and quickly disappear altogether.

Eau Généreuse or Eau d'Abondance is a relatively new term, denoting the luxury of huge, honking bottles, meant to be splashed with abandon, a luxury trait inaugurated by the house Hermès (see Un Jardin après la Mousson for instance and the rest of their Jardins fragrances) and followed by Cartier (see Pasha Eau Généreuse or Declaration Eau Généreuse) These scents come in homonguous bottles but in reality are of Eau de Toilette concentration as usual.

Of course there are several other fragrant products, especially in vintage fragrances, when such practices were more common and more varied, from hair lotion (stillboide) by Guerlain to hand-sanitizing water, Eau de mouchoir (handkerchief scent from the Victorian era) and eau de dentifice (for oral hygiene). But they're beyond the scope of this little guide; perhaps we will return on a subsequent guide.

As with everything, largely concentration perception is a personal interpretation within the official guidelines: What seems more lasting or more forceful might have to do with personal sensitivity to specific ingredients and with associations rather than fixed ratios. So, when heading to the perfume counter or when savouring a vintage treasure, give a minute or two to think about what you're smelling exactly.

pics via gildedlife.com & seharm/flickr/somerightsreserved

Season Specific Fragrance Wardrobe & "Rotate Your Scent so You Don't Stop Smelling it": Fiction or Fact?

Surely all of you have heard/read these lines time and again: "You must change your fragrances from season to season to get a better effect". And: "You want to avoid wearing the same fragrance all the time, because after awhile you literally won't be able to smell it - that's just the way the sense of smell works. If you have several fragrances, you can alternate between them and avoid "getting used to" the way they smell. Add fragrances to your collection periodically so you have a nice selection that you can choose from". Great! It's not enough to just find something that suits you; perfume selling stuff, fragrance companies and glossies have persuaded you that it's a most difficult task and you need expert advice ~their advice~ to get the ball rolling. "Feel fresh and relaxed with moisturising body soap and men's perfume",  magazines say."You need to rotate your scents".

Now you need to find several of those, to comply with changes in season, weather conditions, occasions, mood, hormone imbalances and match it to your nail polish shade and your earrings. I'm of course kidding. All this received advice, which has been reiterated for decades to the point we've all believed it, is pure and utter bullshit; a myth, if you will. And I will prove to you why.

The main argument in favour of changing your perfumes from day to day is so your nose doesn't become too accustomed to it and you risk not smelling it on yourself any more". True, it's a scientific proven fact that our nose becomes acclimatised to existing odours after a few minutes so that it's ready to pick up alerting odours. It's the hunter-gatherer's gene: big predator is approaching; that bog is poisoned, better not drink water off it; something is badly burning, could it be the thatched roof on my hut? That said, the artificial corrolation of that fact with perfume use bears little logic. Fragrance wearing is not an opaque layer of odour that stays the same throughout the day, thus inflicting odour perception blockage like it would be if you were sitting in a chemical factory working every day to the same effluvium. Apart from the natural evaporation that would naturally occur, fragrances are constructed in a purposeful way so that different elements come to the fore with warmth, friction or simply rate of evaporation of the molecules in question. Usually we refer to this as the classic "fragrance pyramid" of top notes, middle notes and base notes. Although not all fragrances are built that way (indeed most are not nowadays), there is still a structure even in linear scents that creates a less or more intense scent that you catch whiffs of throughout the day. Think about it: How many times have you surprised yourself by smelling your fragrance amidst a daily chore and thinking "this smells good"? Clearly, your nose blunts a bit after the initial swoosh, intense enough hence the occasional sneeze when first putting it on, but the peaks of scent are there to remind you of its presence: now you catch it, now you don't; but you're not totally oblivious unless you're performing brain surgery, in which case what the hell are you distracting yourself with sensory stimuli for?


I have tried the practice of wearing the same scent for weeks on end myself as an experiment to see whether I would stop smelling it on myself several times (usually involving either Opium, Bandit, or Diorling) and the amount used and enjoyment derived never fluctuated; instead the continuous use allowed me intimate knowledge of the fragrance in question, something which could not be done if I was being fickle continuously. Not all days were the same while going the course, but at the end of each session I was not more oblivious to my scent than when I started. Perhaps getting people to change fragrance all the time avoids exactly this pitfall: they might realise just what utter dreck some of the products on the market are and never return to buy them! But wait, the fragrance industry has cornered that as well: "By the time you get bored with this one, we will have a new collection in the store", a line which makeup sale assistants have been using for ages. It seems like perfumes have become seasonal makeup items as well. Witness the hundreds of flanker fragrances (scents of the same brand coat-tailing on a bestseller's success with minimal change in name and packaging). And the tsunami of fragrance launches in the last 10 years: In the worlds of Oscar Wilde "Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months."

But even if that weren't enough, maketing lore has cleverly played upon our most subconsious fears pertaining to smell. The implied innuendo of "after awhile you literally won't be able to smell it" is "think how horrible that will be on those around you!" Notice how sly they are into leaving it be hinted, without actually blurting it out: Because if you won't be able to smell it, why buy their product again anyway? They could have said, "you're not going to enjoy the scent as much after you put it on day in day out", but they don't, they say "you won't be able to smell it on yourself". Smell, not enjoy. As in "you smell!", aka a negative connotation. Because the perception of our human smell is such an intimate, personal thing, there is the fear that the way we project our homo sapiens projectiles might be repulsive to those around us. It just wouln't be the same with a visual example and they know it. Visual clues are unquestionable unless you're blind: either something is blue or it's not. But what is "good" and what is "bad" in olfactory terms? The confines are broader. And thus the perfume sale is sealed!

One of the easiest ways of cementing the need for a fragrance wardrobe is the concept of "a seasonal fragrance wardrobe". This is mainly because if you notice the bulk of the sales of perfume products happens in the temperate zone and not some sub-Saharan savvanah. The change in seasons in such places is dramatic enough that this seems like it makes sense. And yet we know that sometimes ambers bloom in the summer and florals can be icy and full of luster in the dead of winter. "Heat enhances the perception of fragrance," says Karyn Khoury, senior vice president for fragrance development for Estée Lauder Cos., who wears fragrance every day. "It warms up the skin and intensifies the diffusion of fragrance so you smell it more." (as reported by Beatrice de Gea in The Wall Street Journal) "When spring arrives, women may want to tone down perfumes so they aren't overwhelming. Ms. Khoury often leaves behind the deeper, richer scents of the winter months, such as patchouli and cedar wood, and instead seeks out fragrances with lighter touches—'citrus notes like mandarin, lemon and grapefruit, dewy green notes, things that smell like leaves or fresh-cut grass, lighter tropical florals like gardenia petals' she says." Khoury is responsible for mega sales of fragrance for decades, so she is a decathlon champion talking about running; you know there's a reason.

Historically speaking, the idea of changing your fragrance all the time, the concept of a fragrance wardrobe, didn't appear but very recently, in the middle of the 20th century actually. Perfume lost its prophylactic function in Western society when Pasteur made his discoveries, while it had almost entirely lost its sacred function way before that, so it became a middle-ground between craft, art and product. In Tilar Mazzeo's book The Secret of Chanel No.5, the cultural researcher notes that it was in the 1950s that consumer goods advertising firms started applying the expertise of psychologists, who realised that "any product [...]must appeal to our feelings". The idea that what mattered to consumers were images, especially images of self, was exploited to good effect: Perfume by its very nature explores an idea of self and to instigate that idea into its marketing is genius because it's something that can be used both for the championing of a signature scent ("this is me at its purest form") and for the necessity of a fragrance wardrobe ("these are my different facets, I'm not that simple")! Really brilliant, isn't it? It can also consolidate brand loyalty. Don't believe me or think it's counterintuitive? Just Google Images for "fragrance wardrobe". Oodles of pics of Chanel coffrets with a predetermined selection of mini parfums of their portfolio comes up. Several other houses issue their own "collection" so as to instill a sense of finding the scents you need for different moods and needs within the same brand.

Men who are ~bless their hearts~ such a saner creature in what concerns shopping practices ~apart from cars and electronics of course, but that's another fodder for another day~ consider the concept of having to change your fragrance all the time an exercise in consumerism and a sure indication that women are victims of wallet manipulation. The Western world female of 20-40 years of age is the most ferocious consumer of them all and thus the prime target of advertisers. As displayed on Beaut.ie blog, men just don't "get it". But the women commenting provide all manner of justification! One reason might be that it's so totally fun to play with several fragrances, an epiphany that came to me when I had abandonded my idea that I should only have about twenty full bottles in rotation in case they spoil; why not bring them all out? A signature scent might be a most romantic, evocative idea, but in the end playing with a variety of fragrances allows a certain -otherwise denied- playfulness to surface, a playfulness that is sometimes a springboard of sanity in this tough world we're living in. Other people just have the collector gene in them. I know I'm one. It doesn't matter if it's paper-clips, stationery or perfume bottles of rare compositions, it brings on the completist in you.

But that is one thing and being told that we NEED to do it, otherwise the repurcussions will be unpleasant, are two very different things! I hereby proclaim my right to change my fragrance ~when and how and if I want to~ because it's fun and exciting to me and not because they tell me I have to. What about you?

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: On the flip side of the coin; the indefinable allure of a signature scent

Photo of Faye Dunaway from the set of Bonnie & Clyde. Perfume collection pic via fracasnoir.com. Nude in black & white photo by Willy Ronis.

Myth Debunking: Scented Candles Accused of Causing Cancer? The Truth Revealed

If you're any phobic about the big C disease at all, you'd bettter skip this article or you'll get ideas. Or rather you should read it to decipher another bunch of C, the kind that has you nodding your head incredulously and exclaiming "my, my!"

After all the IFRA brouhaha that erupted last spring concerning the strictening of perfumery raw materials control and percentage allowed in commercial products {you can read about it clicking the highlighted links}, there comes intimidating news concerning even the humble ~or not so humble, depending on your decadence quota and disposable income~ scented candle! According to a fun two-sided approach on the Telegraph.co.uk, in which scented candles are praised and trashed respectively by Becky Pugh and Nick Collins based mainly on aesthetic and cultural reasons, it also transpires that "Researchers at South Carolina State University have discovered that the humble scented candle releases potentially harmful amounts of toxins". How scary, right?

To be thorough we investigated this info a little (our geeky nature cannot be hidden for long). Here are some of the claims of the research:

"This study characterized the products of emission by individually burning 91 candles inside a stainless steel combustion chamber and determining specific emission rates of soot, benzene and lead. Candle soot was typically less than 1 µm, contained up to 66% elemental carbon and carried numerous adsorbed organic compounds including dibutyl phthalate, diethyl phthalate, toluene and styrene. Volatile organic compound emissions included benzene, styrene, toluene, ethyl benzene, naphthalene, acetylaldehyde, benzaldehyde, benzene, ethanol, and 2-butanone (methyl ethyl ketone). Analysis for lead revealed some candles emitted significant quantities of aerosolized lead during combustion".

The quote originates from "Characterisation of Scented candle emissions and associated public health risks" by J. David Krause, Department of Environmental and Occupational Health, College of Public Health, University of South Florida, August 1999.

Please note the date folks: 1999!!! I mean, geez, a whole decade ago! Wouldn't there be more info available till now and wouldn't companies have cottoned up to those claims so as to reduce the hearmful ingredients as much as possible? After all nail polish comes sans toluene or phtalates anymore, therefore why would candles be far behind? And just how many of you burn candles inside a stainless steel combustion chamber, unless you're fetishizing KZ-Dachau (in which case what are you doing reading this venue?). Somehow this piece of "news" is making the rounds on the Internet (see this article on The Daily Mail for some quotes by doctors or this one spinning off the info) and one is picking it after the other which usually has my antennae up on something fishy being behind all that. It's either that "there are no news in August" or...something else. There is the snippet mentioned that "The neighborhood around NPR HQ in Washington is crawling with chemists attending a big meeting of the American Chemical Society this week". Could it be comparable to the war declared on fragrances and the egoes involved in the academic world?

It's quite logical and sane that Nick Collins exclaims on the Telegraph:

"One really has to respect the brass neck of the designers who make these things, because they have got the women of this world eating out of the palm of their hand [...]If candles weren’t primarily an evening product, one might call it daylight robbery – the market in candles is believed to be worth a jaw-dropping £125 million, 90 per cent of which are bought by women. What’s more, the market has increased threefold in the past three years".

Who can argue with that? It's a way to make the economy roll! Still I would like to focus more on this attitude as presented by Becky Pugh:

"Being, without doubt, a luxury item, it's hard to justify the cost, especially as the inconvenient truth is that the cheaper the candle, the sicklier its fragrance. So although every homeware store, and even supermarket, now stocks a range of them, you need a fairly posh one for it to be worthwhile".

Indeed one would presume that the real danger healthwise, the lead-treated wicks, are often eliminated from more expensive candles, while paraffin (a cheap by-product of petroleum) is less opted for in favour of soy wax. "Candles made from soybean-derived wax didn't show the same pattern of potentially toxic emissions" [quote source] although scientists are wary of cautioning this is merely qualitative info. Did the soybeans manufacturers lobby up for their product or was the Candlemaking Foundation caught asleep at the wheel? From the following ~published on the above source~ it transpires that something is rotten in the kingdom of Denmark: Scott Hensley notes:

"One more caveat: the work is funded by the Department of Agriculture, which wouldn't mind if soybean-based candles became the rage. As a summary of the research under the headline "Soybean Candles For Healthy Life And Well Being" puts it: 'By replacing paraffin wax with soy wax in candles, an estimated 60 million pounds of soybeans would be required for annual candle production. This requirement will have a direct economic impact on soybean farmers as well as a health and environmental impact in this country'."

Draw your own conclusions!

Of course one could also claim that soy is one of the most heavily genetically-modified products on the planet (and it's in the top 3 actually) so that would open a whole new can of worms, but you know what I am getting at, don't you! And to further this, there is also the fact of a scientist for one company going public on MSNBC that an industry study a few years ago could essentially not differenciate between paraffin-based and vegetable-based candles' emissions!!

Personally I would be wary of linking cancer to any of these products: cancer is increasingly identified as being a genetical predisposition (and believe me I know, I have family members working in cancer research at top notch institutions), meaning you will get it anyway if you're so DNA-inclined and panic certainly doesn't help, nor would banning scented candles bring any significant results; I'd venture that industrial and urban air pollution is hundreds of times more detrimental in exarcebating cancer growth. Like an intelligent commenter noted: "I think the only way to avoid cancer-causing materials these days is to move into a bubble. Unless the plastic turns out to be a cancer-causer too…which it will". Another writer at The Guardian "gets" it, although to her scented candles are a no-no due to other reasons; but that's totally cool and she might have a point (the article is worth a read).
The claim that scented candles "could trigger asthma attacks or skin complaints (ie/eczema)", according to the American Chemical Society's annual conference, that I can believe. But surely the solution to that would be quite simple: avoid whenever possible. Like with smoking, a certain regard for other people's comfort goes a long way...

David's The Death of Marat has been cleverly manipulated to include Cire Trudon candles in papermag.com. I found it supremely fitting! Aqua di Parma candles via splendora.com

Myth Debunking: the Truth about Phthalates

There is a very interesting article in PDF form which you can down load for free from the Fragrance Materials Association of the United States clicking The Phthalates file link. It explains what they are, their subdivisions into different kinds, whether they are included in fragrance or not and discusses their risks. Recommended reading!

Myth Debunking 1: What Are Aldehydes, How do Aldehydes Smell and Chanel No.5

Ask any aspiring perfumista about aldehydes and you will hear that they are synthetic materials first used in Chanel No.5, that thanks to them this is the first and the prototype of synthetic fragrances and that aldehydes themselves have a champagne-like, sparkly, fizzy odor that makes the fragrance fly off the skin. This is what they have been told time and again. Ask any seasoned perfumephile and you will hear that aldehydes have a waxy, citrusy or rosy aroma, like snuffed-out candles (Luca Turin was instrumental to that with his references appearing in “Emperor of Scent”). The truth? It’s a little more complicated than either!

It’s a fact that aldehydes became famous through their introduction in copious amounts into the formula of Chanel No.5 in 1921. However No.5 is definitely NOT the first fragrance to feature synthetic aldehydes :

~"Though Chanel No. 5 is recognized as the first Aldehydic fragrance, created in the mid-twenties, the truth is that the first Aldehydic fragrance was Rêve D'Or(Golden Dream), [1]created in 1905 by Armingeat." (sic[2]).

Nor is No.5 the first modern perfume to feature synthetic components (that honor belongs to Fougère Royale -Royal Fern- by Paul Parquet for Houbigant in 1882). Aldehydes themselves are organic compounds present in various natural materials (for instance natural citrus essences such as the one from orange rind, rose oil, pine essence, citronella and cinnamon bark ~they even appear in bovine heart muscle!). Several essence reconstitutions by chemists involved using aldehydes as various types can also be synthesized in the laboratory.

Aldehydes (same as ketones) are organic compounds which incorporate a carbonyl functional group (that's C=O). The carbon atom of this group has two remaining bonds that may be occupied by hydrogen or alkyl or aryl substituents. If at least one of these substituents is hydrogen, the compound is an aldehyde. If neither is hydrogen, the compound is a ketone. The majority of aldehydes and ketones have strong odors. Ketones generally have a pleasant smell and they are frequently found in perfumes (e.g. muscone in musk-smelling colognes). They are also used in food flavorings. Aldehydes vary in smell with most of the lower molecular weight smelling bad (rotten fruits), yet some of the higher molecular weight aldehydes and aromatic aldehydes smell quite pleasant and are thus used in perfumery. Formaldehyde is the simplest aldehyde with a central carbon atom bound to two hydrogen atoms (H2C=O). Discovered in Russia by A. M. Butlerov in 1859 it is very reactive, used in dyes, medical drugs, insecticides and famously as a preservative and embalming fluid.
Aliphatic aldehydes possess intriguing smells outside the realm of simplistically nice: butyraldehyde for example smells of rancid butter (from βούτυρο/butyro which means "butter" in Greek)! Acetaldehyde is the name of the shortest carbon chain aldehyde and is one of the oldest known aldehydes (first made in 1774 by Carl Wilhelm Scheele). Its structure however was not completely understood until Justus von Liebig determined the constitution of acetaldehyde 60 years later, described its preparation from ethanol, and baptised this chemical group “aldehydes”.

Hardly a fragrance exists without some kind of aldehyde in it, which incidentally makes insisting the greatness of No.5 is due to its synthetic materials comparable to saying that the Pyramids are monumental because of their shape alone. It is the cleverness of marketing and the propagation of a myth that No.5 was meant to evoke an unnatural smell (because supposedly Coco Chanel insisted that she wanted a perfume smelling of a woman and not of flowers ~"women do not want to smell of a bed of roses") which gave rise to this confusion. Chanel No.5 and No.22 later owe their vivid sprakle to a specific subgroup of aldehydes which are called “fatty”: strings of carbon atoms (between 8 and 13) coded in accordance to that number of atoms (ie.C8) with nomenclature deriving from Greek numerics, such as octanal from οκτώ/octo (=eight), in which each of the 8 carbon atoms is connected to two hydrogen atoms. The “bouquet” of aldehydes C10, C11, and C12 in Chanel No.5 became so popular that all consequent “aldehydic fragrances” used that sequence of aldehydes, giving a fizzy perfume-y scent that is quite characteristic with the direct result of having the perfume lover confused as to how aldehydes themselves smell. Fatty aldehydes have a citrusy or floral note, and a pronounced fatty/waxy/soapy tone which is very apparent if you consider a modern fragrance that uses them in high ratio: Sicily by Dolce & Gabbana. The soapy feel is unmistakeable! As an exercise compare that smell with your Chanel No.5: you will pick up the soapy facets in that one as well. Another reason that they read as “soap” is exactly because they have been used in the production of soap for years to give that fresh lemony feel.

Most widely used aldehydes in perfumery are C7 (heptanal, naturally occuring in clary sage and possessing a herbal green odour), C8 (octanal, orange-like), C9 (nonanal, smelling of roses), C10 (decanal, powerfully evocative of orange rind; Citral, a more complicated 10-carbon aldehyde, has the odor of lemons), C11 (undecanal , “clean” aldehydic, naturally present in coriander leaf oil~also used is unsaturated C11 undecen-1-al), C12 (Lauryl aldehyde evocative of lilacs or violets), C13 (waxy, with grapefruit tone)and the infamous C14 peach-skin note of Mitsouko: technically not an aldehyde, but a lactone ~gamma undecalactone.

Often the compounds are patented under commercial names; therefore their true nature remains arcane even to perfume lovers who might have seen them mentioned. For instance Triplal, a patented molecule by IFF: its chemical name is 2,4-dimethyl-3-cyclohexene-1-carboxaldehyde. Its smell? Powerfully green and herbal, like crushing ligustra leaves between fingers. None of the characteristic aldehydes of Chanel No.5!
One interesting ingredient is phenylacetaldehyde which has a pronounced green note (top in natural narcissus and thus used to recreate a narcissus note in perfumery). The hydrocinnamic aldehydes are another family of materials from the manipulation of benzene and their odor profile resembles lily of the valley (muguet) and cyclamen. One of them is the famous Lilial (patented name for lily aldehyde; also known as Lilistralis), widely used in the replication of that elusive natural essence, lily of the valley. Another is Cyclamen aldehyde (usually produced with cumene as a starting material).
Aromatic aldehydes have very complex chemical structures but are the easiest to identify by smell. Anisaldehyde smells like licorice. Benzaldehyde on the other hand, has an odour profile of almonds and has several chemical constituents: cinnamaldehyde, amylcinnamic aldehyde, hexylcinnamic aldehyde. Condensation of benzaldehyde with other aldehydes gives a series of α-substituted cinnamlaldehydes, the lowest member of which is used in the production of cinnamyl alcohol, very important in the production of spicy perfumes (cinnamon note). Higher members, on the other hand, such as amylcinnamic aldehydes (ACA) and hexylcinnamic aldehyde (HCA) project a fatty jasmine impression despite their abscence from natural jasmine oils! Most synthetic jasmine perfumes today use one or both because they are inexpensive (Their fibre-substantive qualities also make them perfect candidates for laundry detergents and fabric conditionners). The hawthorn or aubépine note, rendered synthetically in perfumes for several decades, is produced via anisic aldehyde (p-methoxy benzaldehyde) and it has been sublimely woven into the gauzy cloth of Après L’Ondée by Guerlain (where it sings along with heliotropin). Additionally, the aldehyde vanillin is a constituent in many vanilla-scented perfumes. So nothing is as simplistic as one might assume!

Aldehydic fragrances include (click links to read corresponding articles/reviews): Chanel No.5 and No.22, Lanvin Arpège, Guerlain Liu and Véga, Worth Je Reviens, Millot Crèpe de Chine , Balecianga Le Dix, Revillon Detchema, Caron Fleurs de Rocaille (not Fleur, singular), Infini and Nocturnes, Myrurgia Joya, Jean-Charles Brosseau Ombre Rose , Molyneux Vivre, Lancome Climat, Givenchy L’Interdit, Piguet Baghari, Madame Rochas and Mystère by Rochas, Rive Gauche by Yves Saint Laurent , Paco Rabanne Calandre, Estée Lauder Estée, White Linen, Pure White Linen, Van Cleef & Arpels First, Nina by Nina Ricci (the old formula in the ribbed bottle), E.Coudray Musc et Freesia, Bill Blass Nude and Amazing, Hermès Amazone, D& Sicily, Divine L’Ame Soeur, Serge Lutens La Myrrhe, Frederic Malle Iris Poudre, Ferré by Ferré, Agent Provocateur Maitresse, Annick Goutal Folavril, Le Labo Aldehyde 44.
Hermès Calèche is poised between floral aldehydic and floral chypre in some taxonomies.

[1]Bernand Chant, British Society of Perfumers 1982
[2]Armigeat is perfumer Pierre Armigeant (1874-1955) who composed Floramye and Azurea for L.T.Piver

Painting Gueridon 1913 by Georges Braques, courtesy of allposters.com. Chanel makeup ad via Bellasugar.

Lies and Misdemeanors

How many times have you heard a story regarding the creation of a perfume and in the end realised it must be a fabrication?
From the almost bordering to the homeric notion of "genius through incapacitation" of Coco Chanel picking up the specific batch of Ernest Beaux's No.5 while having a severe headache to another tale ~ according to which Beaux's assistant was the culprit behind the revolutionary amount of aldehydes poured by accident into a vat of jus ready for the making that resulted in a new category of perfumes.
From the melancholic Mitsouko name supposedly meaning "mystery" in Japanese (well, it means "child of light", if you want to know) and the tale that Jicky was the nickname of an unfortunate coup de foudre that Aime Guerlain harbored for an English girl (in reality it was the nickname of his nephew Jacques) to the couturier Marcel Rochas commissioning Femme as an exclusive wedding present for his great beauty of a young bride, which proved to be such a short-lived exclusive that the following year he launched it publicly...

And cut into the modern classic that is Angel, commissioned to smell like the "the caramel scent of sugared apples, the sugary notes of candy floss and the smell of the fun fair" by Strasbourg-born Thierry Mugler. (You can read an interesting article brought to my attention on the gourmand scents mentioning this byclicking here).
Or even the references made by consumers when they talk about a favourite or just plain hip of-the-moment perfume they have fallen for: Remember how Madona in the mid-90s talked about how she chose Fracas, among many others, because it reminded her of her dearly beloved mother who used to wear it, just when the whole chic crowd was rediscovering this forgotten classic and had similar stories to recount?

Perfume needs a tale behind it to sell, it seems. Every single one of the classics has a tale behind it. Every single one of those tales has some element of fantasy. It has to, because perfume seems to be aspirational: people want to buy into a fairy tale, an illusion, a flight of fancy that would make them feel happier, more elegant, more glamorous, more alluring, certainly more attractive. At its basest level perfume is used as an element of attraction. There is an inordinate amount of questions on which perfume would draw in more people of the opposite sex on perfume fora. It practically pops up every day. It also makes column inches in advertorials and articles in the press, especially when it's time for the mega-launches before the Christmas season.

However, perfume also serves other purposes: it signals a certain persona behind it (and this is not used in the Bergman sense) that is projected through the use of something upscale as an emblem of wealth, societal status, taste and cultivation. This is the reason why when giving gifts of perfume of brands that are considered upscale the face of the recipient lights up significantly more than when presenting them with an equal -monetarily speaking- offering of an unknown brand. They feel like they "belong" and that they are validated when presented with said offering, same as when they whip up the credit card to do it themselves. And people mostly want to "belong".

A variation of the latter nevertheless is the undisciplined spirit of people who want to be perceived as breaking the mould, as forming their own individual fashions and opting for something that would set them apart. In a world that is crammed with people smelling the same, the olfactory ID of a different scent acts much like the shoulderpads of the 80s, creating a little distance and hauteur that allows people to mark their own territory. And this is where the ever expanding market of "niche" perfumes falls. Based on the premise that limited ditribution creates exclusivity and that limited advertising saves money for better-quality ingredients, accounting for a better effect, as well as some leeway of an artistic vision that is not as aysterely restrained by "suits" in marketing boards, niche brands opt to play the game by their own rules.
But that is not meant to imply that they do not engage in their own literature of fantasy. Ambre Sultan is supposed to have been inspired by lumps of vegetal amber found in Moroccan souks and served as an inspiration to Lutens to come up with a perfume that has become infamous due to its perceived naughty undertones that to some smell like lady bits. Or think how Annick Goutal reading "Memoirs of Hadrian" by M.Yourcenar envisioned the young philosopher emperor smelling like a crystalline mix of Sicilian lemons and cypress resulting in Eau d'Hadrien. Or yet the very romantic tale of Antonia Ballanca Mahoney recounting the story of her grandfather and a Sicilian song named Tiempe Passate (=time passes) that served as the inspiration behind the homonymous fragrance of austere cedar and powdery orris.

Are those new tales true? I guess it doesn't matter too much. And sceptical readers will have already drawn their conclusions. But it's nice while they last. In a pedantic world they help us dream a bit.


Pic is from the film "Lady in the water", a fairy tale about how fairy tales might help us; courtesy of athinorama.gr