Fragrance and Me: You Can’t Like Them All

What is it about those things in life that, as humans, we just cannot resist, despite that ‘thing’ making us feel sick? Craning our necks to see an accident, watching someone picking their nose on the train, or continuing to sniff something even though we know we don’t like it.

There is one fragrance in particular that has this effect on me. It is a popular, long-standing brand, and as I have no interest in bad mouthing any scent in my Blog, because it is a matter of personal taste, it shall remain nameless. Millions of women love it; I’m just not one of them.

Despite having sprayed it numerous times, to check and double check I really didn’t like it – because just like with food, it pains me to not like everything – but just as I gave up with spinach, I’ve had to admit defeat with this too.

And so this one particular occasion I tried to appreciate it’s heady notes, was to be my last. Having left my dad and sister by the pool on a family holiday to Mallorca, my mum and I strolled into the town and quickly sniffed out a perfume store. You know those amazing shops that sell everything, including forgotten brands of yesteryear? Bright, shiny, row after row of perfume. Heaven. And there it was, in all its rich, overpowering, vom-inducing glory. And so, naturally, I sprayed it on my wrist. I still did not like it.

Unable to leave such a shop without making a purchase, I come away with a bottle of Kiton by Aramis. And so we carried on strolling round the town, when I decided it was time for another aldehyde-heavy hit. Stomach churned, head thumped. I repeated this over and over, it was the itch I could not stop scratching. And, boy, coupled with the blazing Mallorcan sun, did it make me feel ill.

In a weird twist, my best friend Fi shares my feelings on this particular fragrance and so, way back in 1998, after our regular Thursday night shift at River Island, we’d cut through the now sadly defunct Allders of Croydon en route to the pub. Leaving via the impressive perfume department for a quick spritz of Moschino Cheap and Chic, we’d both grab a bottle of the unnamed offender and quickly become locked in a perfume stand-off, threatening to contaminate the other. Fifteen years later, we still feel the need to text each other when we get a whiff of it on someone.

I love how perfume is so powerful, it evokes such old memories…even if those memories are accompanied by a dry heave.