“Go on then, what am I
wearing?”
Nine times out of ten I
will get this right. The times I don’t, I am very disappointed in myself.
I think this ‘skill’ – if
it can be called that – comes from time spent in perfume departments, and also
not being able to let strangers pass if they smell nice. I have to know what it
is so I can spray it and obsess about it from then on.
One male fragrance I never
fail to identify is Givenchy Play/Play Intense. With notes of my favourite
ingredients, bergamot - at the top - and, vetiver - at its base - with amyris,
pink pepper and coffee in the middle, I cannot get enough of it.
For example, the first
time I encountered it, I was at the theatre with a male friend of mine a few
years ago. He smelt incredible. So much so that he went from being someone I’d
only ever thought of as a friend to someone I suddenly found very attractive
indeed. Powerful stuff, fragrance.
However, lucky for him, I
managed to control myself but it is a scent that I insist on being a permanent
fixture in my boyfriend’s collection (which, of course, has expanded rather
significantly since we got together), not just so he can wear it, but me too.
And I get a lot of compliments when I do.
However, my love of
Givenchy Play has also led to one particularly embarrassing situation. It is
the fragrance of choice by someone I work with, not at my company, but at UKTV. Years ago I realised he – David – wore Play, and smugly
announced, “I know what you’re wearing: Givenchy Play!” I was right, of course.
David was impressed, I think. Any normal person would have left it there but
not this perfume enthusiast, oh no. Because I love this scent, I feel that
everyone else should know about it, and so at a work event, where free wine and cocktails flow, but alcohol-soaking canapés are scarce, I insisted, quite passionately/forcefully that people sniff
David because “he smells amaaaaazing.”
And so now when I smell
Play, I get bergamot, coffee, vetiver and an underlying note of...embarrassment.
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