After I brushed my teeth, I reached into the medicine cabinet like I always do, pulled out a pink bottle of perfume, sprayed it, paused and closed my eyes to breathe it in. And frowned. I’d been doing this for years. The sadness, the moment when my stomach dropped, the edge of the cold sink in the grip of my hands: I did this every day. I looked at the bottle and pressed my nose up to the nozzle. My boyfriend of BC — my friends call the era when I worked a normal job “BC” for “before crazy” — had bought it for me for our three-year anniversary. We didn’t make it to four years.

I can’t remember exactly what I was thinking while I stood there looking at that bottle and breathing in that perfume. I do remember the novelty of letting myself think about something other than work. And I remember recognizing that the pink bottle of Narciso Rodriguez for Her was torture, recognizing that its smell hurts my soul. On my skin, it is the sweet and musky memory of my ex kissing my elbow and murmuring “Mmm, chemical pixie dust.” On my cashmere coat, it is the dry, woody emblem of our Christmas tradition: spiked eggnog and poker in front of the fireplace.

He’s moved on. His new Facebook profile picture is a blonde girl hugging a big, fluffy golden retriever. One of our mutual friends told me she asked why he didn’t unfriend me, and he said “I doubt she ever checks Facebook.”

“And I thought, ‘He’s totally right!’” she said, laughing casually.

I tried to imagine her reaction if I told her I check Facebook every day. Around 5 a.m., before The Wall Street Journal. If I told her that last year he went on holiday in Greece, that this year on our anniversary all he posted was a picture of something that was apparently “the best taco in San Diego,” and that I first suspected the existence of the golden retriever girl a few months ago when he checked in at the restaurant where he took me for our first date.

I didn’t say any of that. There was no point. I know he’s moved on, and if I were him, I would too.

I took the bottle of perfume and went into my closet. Methodically, I unfolded every scarf and sprayed them all. Every coat. All my bras. The bottle started to feel light in my hand, and I went into my office on the spot and ordered five more from Amazon. I started to get a headache, so I took another shower, and then I ran a bath and sprayed the remainder of the bottle into the tub and sat there and soaked.

This is fiction. You can read more of my fiction posts here. 

Please let me know if this is something you would be interested in reading on a monthly basis. If it is, and you have suggestions for other magazines to include, please let me know in the comments. Conspicuous in its absence is Allure. It has, arguably, the best articles on perfume, but since I’m not as interested in beauty as I am in fashion, it’s not on my monthly reading list.

Unless I indicate otherwise, these are all American editions.

Up first: Vogue, with the smashingly talented Adele on the cover.This issue doesn’t contain a single editorial mention of a perfume, despite its being the massive 600-page spring issue. There are, however, lots of ads — including smelly strips for Elie Saab Le Parfum and Donna Karan Cashmere Mist. None of the ads are new to me. Michael Kors and Burberry Body are running ads I’ve seen or some variation thereof. The Bottega Veneta, Elie Saab, and Donna Karan ads are also the same. Considering that a lot of these same companies bought space in the other spring issues, I’m surprised they didn’t also redesign their ads.

The next magazine in my stack is Bazaar, with Gwyneth Paltrow on the cover. Another Elie Saab scent strip, and an assortment of other seen-before ads. A “day in the life” feature with Tom Ford, which doesn’t mention his perfume line but which I have to mention because it makes him sound like a parading dilletante to such an extent that I’m shocked he allowed it to be published. One editorial mention of a perfume: the new Valentina Eau de Parfum by Valentino. This was making the rounds of most of the magazines this month (see below). Bazaar borrows language from the press release and calls it sophisticated and rebellious. They also echo the press release in calling the perfume “as beautiful as the spring collection.” (Do a find for “sophisticated,” “rebel,” and “collection” in the press release.) To reiterate: within the two-sentence, five-line paragraph in Bazaar, they’ve included one idea not contained in the press release: that the perfume is “luxe.”

I had high hopes for Lucky, since I like the beauty editor’s column and she sometimes writes about perfumes. As it turns out, she didn’t feature a perfume this month, but Lucky ran a “Paris with Ines de la Fressange” feature that mentions the Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle boutiques, the Maison Francis Kurkdjian boutique, and the Palais Royal of Serge Lutens. From what I can tell, these contain original reporting, since there is a little paragraph which describes the atmosphere in each shop and shares a tidbit about the scents — none of which seems to be lifted from PR material. Ambre Sultan is given special mention, too. An “insider’s pick” feature later in the magazine also mentions perfume; the subject describes Monocle Scent Two in Laurel by Comme des Garcons as “clean and musky, almost a little spicy too. It stands out among my typical-L.A. florals.” There are fewer perfume ads in Lucky than in the other magazines, and no scent strips.

Marie Claire had many perfume ads in its March issue. Narcisco Rodriguez was the only one with a smelly strip. None of the ads were new, and although Eva Mendes is on the cover, I didn’t spy a mention of Angel. Editorial mentions of perfume include a mention of the new Roberto Cavalli fragrance as a pick of someone named Elisa Sednaoui, who says “Wearing it brings out my inner animal, the tiger inside. It’s powerful and feminine at the same time.” This quote seems so on-point with the company’s PR that I googled it. Ah, waddayaknow, Elisa is the “face” of the perfume. Model Lara Stone cites CK One Shock for Her as a favorite, stating that it makes her “feel young and edgy.” I’m not surprised my Google search reveals that she is the face of CK One Shock for Her. In a personal style feature of Isabel Toledo, there is brief mention of the Annick Goutal Les Orientalistes coffret. A quick Google search reveals no formal connection between Toledo and Annick Goutal, and the quote from Toledo sounds genuine, if benign (“blend them as you wish”). Marie Claire also features Valentina by Valentino. The adjectives used are fresh (press release? check!), floral (press release? check!), and feminine (press release? check!). But my favorite mention of perfume in Marie Claire is a tiny photo of Axe Anarchy for Her bodyspray, with a simple  statement of product name and price ($5). At least it’s in Marie Claire and not Vogue. But still, I hear the voice of Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada, whining “But where are the aaaaadvertisers?”

Last up is Elle. Another Narcisso Rodriguez scent strip, various ads. A mention of the new Big Pony Collection for women — specifically No. 4, which is the “Stylish” fragrance, described as a Saturday-night-ready blend of amber and cherry. And when I say described, I say it because I can’t find a press release for this yet, so I can’t say for sure this language wasn’t lifted in some way. Nestled in a feature about make-up is a mention of the new Roberto Cavalli fragrance, with a quote from Cavalli that reiterates it is “a bit feline.”  A feature on Diane von Furstenberg references her perfume Diane, with a quote from the designer. Elle also featured the longest write-up on Valentina by Valentino. It’s still only one longish paragraph, but what I appreciate is that it doesn’t seem to be trying to create the illusion that the writer has smelled the perfume and has an opinion, when we can all see it’s recycled promo copy. The Elle paragraph begins by stating that Valentino has become an edgier house since new designers took the helm in ’08, and it mentions the noses behind the perfume (Olivier Cresp and Alberto Morillas) and includes a quote from Cresp. Compare the examples from the other magazines above to this closing sentence from Elle and the difference in approach is obvious: “… for a fragrance conceived to be both aristocratic and a little bit wild.” I’d much rather read this, which is informing the reader what the company cites as the inspiration for the fragrance without trying to pass it off as a writer’s opinion.

I think it’s fair to say the March magazines were dominated by Valentina (pretty bottle!), and that in the midst of covering the spring fashion there was even less room than usual for covering perfume. I’ll be interested to see what April brings, in the run up to Easter and Mother’s Day.

Images courtesy Idolater.com, Popsugar.com, PeopleMagazine.com, FashionBombDaily.com, MyGossip565.com, and Fragrantica.

And why should you? Mainly because of the quotes from the lovely Andy Tauer, Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, and Pierre Guillaume. [Edited: And also, I'm so sorry I forgot to mention this at first, for two other great fragrance articles -- one by Elena of Perfume Shrine.]

However (and I have to include this information, because if not my pride will be hurt), while undoubtedly my inexperience writing about this topic may show in the article, a factual error and a distracting grammatical error were introduced by the editors and were not mine. Okay. That said, the editor in me can now relax, while the writer in me owns my inexperience and acknowledges that we can always do better.

And on the topic of the sillage experiment: today I applied 10 sprays of Lipstick Rose. I didn’t asphyxiate, and neither did anyone around me. Tara is on to something! I might stop after six sprays in the future, but 10 was certainly not overkill.

First, I applied three sprays of Miriam. Then I proceeded to finish applying my makeup and drinking my coffee. When I went to kiss my husband goodbye, I stopped about two feet away and asked “Can you smell my perfume?” and he said “No.” Back to the cabinet I went for a fourth spray.

How is this possible? I’m wondering. Obviously, my sprays are too conservative. (I do try to control the spritzer, so as to avoid putting on too much or getting the spray all over clothes or wasting perfume by spraying half of it into the air.) But honestly: people can’t smell three sprays of Miriam from a distance of two feet 30 minutes after application? How. is. this. possible? After the fourth spray, he said he could smell it and pronounced it “powdery.”

And that is how I went to work wearing my four sprays of Miriam. In the car, I had to roll a window down. And 9 am found me in the women’s restroom at work, frantically using a flimsy paper towel in an attempt to scrub some of the Miriam off my neck. (By the way, this sentence is really funny if you have watched the movie and have a mental image of the “person” Miriam.)

But still no one in my office seemed remotely bothered by (or interested by, to be honest) my perfume. During the day, I was keeping up with comments on my last post via my phone, and I saw more and more people commenting about how generally strangers and coworkers won’t point out when we’re wearing too much perfume. This is very true, I think. I mustered my courage and went to a coworker who I know has bad allergies.

“I just wanted to check in,” I said. “Can you smell my perfume?”

She paused. “A little.”

“I’m so sorry!” This burst out before I even thought about what I was saying. Was I really sorry that she could smell my perfume? “I hope it isn’t bothersome.”

“No, not at all!” she said. “It’s really light! It smells nice. And I’m pretty sensitive, so I don’t think you need to worry.” As best I could tell, she seemed to sincerely like it.

I was worried that my perfume, either everyday or during this experiment, would bother her. I’m so relieved that it doesn’t, and excited to chalk up another positive reaction to Miriam, which has a teenage stage early on (i.e., a difficult stage) that I sometimes have to power through before getting to the very, very pretty stages.

I’m really glad I asked. First because now I know I’m not offending her, and second because my question actually led to an interesting (but short) conversation about perfume. After the above exchange, she said that someone had once given her a bottle of Estee Lauder’s Beautiful, and it was much too strong for her. She brought it to work and put it in the restroom for common use — and eventually someone took it home. I had so many questions for her: what was too strong about it? what did it remind you of? and, of course, who’s the potential perfumista in the office who took it home? I was too shy to ask any of these questions, but it was still a good conversation. I’m chalking this up as another reason to waft a bit more sillage: it makes room for conversation about perfume.

I’ve loved reading all of the adventures in sillage in the comments, and a few of you have mentioned you are varying your application, too. Are there any new data? Please share in the comments or post a link if you feel inclined to blog on the topic!

I had to take a break from perfume today, so Day 5 will be tomorrow. I’ll be sourcing something big from my sample box.

In the evening, I applied an entire 1 ml sample vial a lot of Tramp, by Opus Oils. It’s a testament to how much I like this perfume, and how smooth it is, that I enjoyed wearing it through the whole evening. And not even my scent-sensitive husband made any comments about the amount I was wearing.

Conclusion from Day 1: No one cares as much about my perfume as I do.

On the second day, I bathed in La Tulipe by Byredo. I wouldn’t have thought this scent, which is a slightly green, delicate, photorealistic tulip could be a sillage monster. But take it from me: eight sprays can make almost anything a sillage monster. Normally, I would apply three, maybe four. Sure enough, a few hours into the day, one of my coworkers said “You smell really pretty!” She thought the smell was familiar, but what it reminded her of was Lovely by Sarah Jessica Parker, which I don’t see. But nonethless, I consider this a success. Particularly because “pretty” is a perfect description of La Tulipe, and the one my husband came up with when I was trial running it for my wedding.

Conclusion from Day 2: Sometimes the quietly beautiful perfumes are the ones that shine, even when they aren’t being as quiet as usual. 

Today was day three. I wore Sonoma Scent Studio Champagne du Bois (I will write about this soon). Since it’s a pretty diffusive scent, I settled for “just” four sprays. (That sound you heard was me gulping.) Compare this with my usual, which is ONE spray. I expected that either the dentist, a coworker, or an outspoken friend that I met for dinner would comment. After all, Champagne du Bois is a unique scent, and one that is incredibly popular amongst niche lovers. A sort of all-rounder. But nope, no comments once again.

Conclusion from Day 3: I’m back to thinking no one really cares about my perfume. 

So tonight: a poll. Anyone have an opinion about what I should wear tomorrow, for day four of the sillage monster experiment? I’m in the mood for one of these three, but leaning toward the Tauer for maximum sillage. Thoughts?

The Book of Lost Fragrances tells the story of a French-American woman named Jac who, with her brother, is the youngest generation in a family that runs an established French perfume house. Jac has avoided the family business, but is pulled back in when her brother discovers what he believes are the remnants of a lost Egyptian perfume that could be valuable in more ways than one. The plot centers around Jac’s attempts to protect her brother from various entities trying to steal what he’s found, and her brother’s attempts to get Jac to help him re-create the perfume.

The novel is characterized as a thriller, and is written in what I call traditional bestseller style. It’s plot driven, and the author certainly didn’t take Henry James’ celebrated advice to “Show, don’t tell.” In fact, at times the “telling” is so lacking in nuance or subtlety that I felt I was reading an 8th grade essay. Although one of its themes is the interesting idea of tension between fate and personal choice, not enough is done with this idea to really flesh it out, to provoke thought or offer new insight. It’s ironic that the characters’ emotional lives and motivations would be so laboriously and explicitly spelled out, while this element —which could make the book something more powerful—is left to languish.

All that being said, the plot was engaging. I finished the book (which is almost 400 pages) in less than a week, with only minimal skimming over the particularly bang-you-over-the-head bits! And the author has done her homework in researching perfumes and the perfume world. Some of Jac’s abilities as a “nose” seemed a bit farfetched, but other than that there was very little that struck me as off in the descriptions of perfumes or the industry.

I can see this being an enjoyable read, maybe a beach read, for perfume enthusiasts and anyone who likes the quick-paced, non-challenging bestseller style.

What is very fun about the book is that an accompanying fragrance has been created by Joya Studio’s Frederick Bouchardy. It is called Âmes Soeurs and contains notes of frankincense, myrrh, orange blossom, and jasmine. If you are interested in trying the perfume, you can obtain a free sample if you order a copy of the book. These are the steps.

1. Order The Book of Lost Fragrances from Amazon or Barnes & Noble by March 1.

2. Email a copy of your receipt to lostfragrances@gmail.com, including your name and mailing address.

3. Await the arrival of your sample, which will be shipped by March 13.

*Disclaimer: I was provided with a complimentary pre-publication ebook of The Book of Lost Fragrances. I have not tested and did not receive a sample of the fragrance. My thanks to Evyn Block Communications for the chance to read the novel and pass on this offer here on APB!

Over the course of one week, I am going to be a walking sillage monster. I, who normally apply a discrete amount of perfume, am going to wear perfume with abandon. My goal is to wear enough that anyone within 3 feet of me could identify it, if it were Angel.

And then I’m going to sit back (figuratively) and see what happens. Will people comment? Will my employer institute a “no fragrance” policy? Will people at the gym pass out on the treadmill? (Okay, maybe I won’t wear as much to the gym.) Will I perhaps even get some compliments?

Today, I’m wearing Dita von Teese. Or perhaps it’s wearing me, at this point. Tonight, Opus Oils Tramp.

Stay tuned …

By now, you may have heard some rumblings about the Devilscent Project, a collaboration between Sheila of The Alembicated Genie and several perfumers who are creating scents inspired Sheila’s novel, Quantum Demonology. I’m pleased as punch to be a part of it, and look forward to sharing more here on APB as the project progresses.

In the meanwhile, I suggest you pop on over to the site to read about the novel, stalk the perfumers, and mind the blogs. You wouldn’t want to the devil to take you by surprise, would you?

Perfumers participating in Devilscent are:

Olympic Orchids
Opus Oils
Neil Morris Fragrances
Esscentual Alchemy
Scents by Alexis – website pending
Cherry Bomb Killer Perfumes
Aroma M 

Bloggers participating in Devilscent are:

The Alembicated Genie
Chaya Ruchama
Indie Perfumes
Perfume Smellin’ Things
The Perfume Pharmer
The Perfume Posse
This Blog Really Stinks Perfume
Beauty on the Outside
Redolent of Spices
The Muse In Wooden Shoes

Some of you might have guessed already that the perfumista I’m referring to is Undina of Undina’s Looking Glass. And one of the samples she brought me was her first perfume love: Climat (EdP) by Lancome. After Undina told me it was her first love, I remembered her post about it, but for whatever reason the perfume name had not stuck with me. The note list is also somewhat unassuming: violet, peach, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, bergamot, rose, narcissus, aldehydes, rosemary, tuberose, sandalwood, tonka bean, amber, musk, civet, bamboo, and vetiver. (via)

So when I wore Climat not long after, I had no preconceptions about it. The first time I wore it, it reminded me a little bit of the drydown of Chanel No. 19, but softer, less angular. It seemed to fit many different occasions and moods: work, dinners out, dates with my husband. Over the course of wearing my sample, I slowly began to pick out other elements from the very “classic perfume” composition of Climat. The peach is prominent to me, along with a powdery note and the warm fuzziness of aldehydes. This is a fragrance where the aldehydes really purr on my skin. I can also, of course, easily pick out the civet — since I dislike civet! Fortunately for me, it is only a problem for a few minutes after I apply. Then it recedes into the background, probably contributing to the aforementioned “classic perfume” aura, but not in a way that’s too aggressive for my wimpy tastes!

Most recently, I wore this skiing (my first time!) and was surprised at how it lent even that outdoorsy pursuit a touch of elegance and a romantic feeling.

I’m really grateful that Undina shared Climat with me. And it seems appropriate to publish this today, since this weekend was her birthday. I hope you had a wonderful and fragrant birthday, Undina! And I hope you found a Guerlain — but in the meanwhile, I thought I would go for a cake of a more reliably Undina-approved fragrance line. Happy Birthday!

Rating for Climat is a 4: I really, really like it! Why? Because it’s a beautiful, warm, classic, elegant perfume that feels like it glows and purrs on my skin.

Note: My thoughts on Climat are brief for a reason. I may edit this later. (How’s that for mysterious?) But do go read the reviews of Climat by Lancome at Undina’s Looking Glass (linked above), The Muse in Wooden Shoes, and Bois de Jasmin.

Image credits: first is my own, second is from InsideOut.Topshop.com

Normally I buy my husband cards that are unrelated to the event (last year, his birthday card was a christening card — en espanol). But this Valentine’s Day, I found a splendid card “For my husband” which informs him that my favorite part about our lives together is “raising a beautiful family together.”* That kind of awful is just not available year ’round, my friends.

It’s these little things that make Valentine’s Day for me. So while the fragrance marketing is currently all about “seductive” scents, those don’t really match up with how I want to celebrate. And I don’t think they match up with what most people want, really. If the day was all about having fun and celebrating love, wouldn’t everyone be behind it?

So this year for Valentine’s Day, I’m wearing a scent I love. One that feels playful, warm, inviting, and — yes — a bit seductive. Tramp is part of the Opus Oils Burlesque Collection. It’s notes are sweet lemon blossom, warm vanilla sugar, sandalwood, blond tobacco, and patchouli. It’s a lightly sweet fragrance that opens with sweet lemon custard and sweet vanilla. Pretty quickly, I can smell the tobacco and just a slight bit of sandalwood. The lemon doesn’t exactly fade, but rather becomes so much a part of the composition that I sometimes forget it’s there. To me, Tramp feels very well blended. No one element exerts to much sway; each is in accord with the others.

What really hooked me on Tramp, though, is the way that the notes together have this wonderful density to them — but are full of sunshine. Although the vanilla is on the sweet and heavy side, the tobacco is lightly sweet, like a fresh tobacco leaf, a great compliment to the lemon.

Sometimes I don’t think scents like Tramp get their due. Often they’re dismissed as simple or confectionary. Which is one reason it was nice to see Prada Candy succeeding last year, even though I didn’t like it much. One thing I did like about Candy is the way it sits on the skin. It has weight. If it deepened or intensified in some way on my skin, I’d like it. But it doesn’t. And Tramp does. The feeling of weight and “aliveness” it has is really great.

Rating for Tramp is “4: I really, really like it!” Why? Because it’s playful, warm, inviting, and a bit seductive.

*The closest thing we have to a family is any dust bunny that might have escaped my obsessive cleaning.

Image is a still from the movie It Happened One Night. If you haven’t seen it, you should really watch the whole movie, or at least this scene. “It’s a system all my own.”