Tuesday, November 24, 2009

In praise of bad perfume























If I had to name my least favorite mass market scent, I'd probably say ET White Diamonds. There are plenty of other perfumes that can claim huge and inexplicable popularity, but White Diamonds has a ferocious sillage that puts it a cut above the rest. There's no escaping its dense, distinctive fog, so suggestive of a wedding bouquet fried in chicken fat. To be fair, I don't think it was always as bad as it is now. In its early years (the 90s), I found it mediocre but inoffensive. I own a mini of it from those days, and the scent of that juice seems mellower than the aroma today's wearers leave in their wake. Maybe the formula has changed, or maybe I'm just indulging in the reflexive nostalgia that afflicts most perfumistas. In any case, I always hold my breath a little whenever I get stuck near a White Diamonds dowager, and make a mental note to go easy on my own obnoxious favorites (Miss Balmain, Fracas, etc.) so as not to perpetuate the cycle of suffering.

Last Friday, I was in the supermarket around 2 in the afternoon, and the store was crowded with old folks. (Strange, that, since senior discount day is Wednesday. Maybe they were giving the oldsters an early chance to shop safely, since this is Thanksgiving week, when no sane person enters a supermarket without pepper spray and a firearm.) I was scanning the shelves for club soda when the first cloud of White Diamonds engulfed me. I looked up to see a lady in a wheelchair cruising toward me, pushed along by her hired attendant. Her white hair was carefully curled. Her lips and nails were bright pink, as was her velour tracksuit. I grabbed my club soda and moved on to the cleaning aisle, where I found the sweet fragrance of Comet and Fabuloso competing with the scent of a superannuated redhead toddling along after her middle-aged daughter. She was wearing polyester slacks, a pearl-buttoned sweater, Easy Spirits and meticulous make-up along with her White Diamonds.

I had an impulse to flee from her, too, but instead I stayed put for a moment and watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was a bit feeble and her daughter was being grumpy with her, but you could tell she was a woman who still took a lot of pleasure in living. She put thought and effort into how she presented herself, which takes some courage in a culture that despises old people and would like to erase them from view. Her perfume made her defiantly, undeniably present to everyone she encountered; perhaps not exactly as she imagined it did, but then, what do any of us know about how the world perceives us?

Good for her, I thought, and all her aromatic sisters. They should keep spritzing White Diamonds as long as they have strength to work the nozzle. They should make the family give 'em gift sets for Christmas so they can layer the stuff. May they hang onto pleasure until their last days, and never surrender the juice until it's pried out of their cold, dead hands.


Portrait of the Empress Dowager Ci'an, c. 1850

14 comments:

Perfumeshrine said...

Ah..another thought-provoking post. The tenacity of the bad asserting the presence of those who are to be invisibilised by an uncaring society. Thought-provoking indeed! I wonder why it can't be the other way around: the beautiful to discreetly scent those who are respected. But like you said who knows how anyone is perceived?

"suggestive of a wedding bouquet fried in chicken fat" is a classic!! :D

Alyssa said...

This is great, Maria. I have been thinking for a long time about "smelling like an old woman" and what that means, exactly, and why it's the default insult from non-perfumistas. This sheds new light on the topic--from your angle it's about class as well as age, no? The track suit instead of that old Chanel suit that still fits after all these years...

Also thinking about that great Andy Warhol quote: "Perfume is another great way to take up space."

BitterGrace said...

E, I clicked over to your blog to find an exploration of the eternal questions behind my little anecdote. It's a fabulous post. Everybody should read it:

http://perfumeshrine.blogspot.com/2009/11/perfume-appreciation-quest-for.html

BTW, I've been meaning to do a post about that "chicken fat" effect in modern aldehydes. Am I the only one who notices this?

I love that quote, Alyssa! I can't believe I never heard it before. (Where have I been?) I think I may make it my silent motto. You're right about the class issue, of course. Interesting how much more willing we are to diss a perfume as "old" than as something for poor people...

chayaruchama said...

OK, dolls.

In order to access you-
I had to go through Helg's blog...
Some weird glitch.
GRR.

I admire those valiant old bats.
I want to be one of them.

Who cares if I like their perfume ?

It's their SPIRIT that moves me.
That's PLENTY, IMHO.
End of rant.

dissed said...

My mother (76) wears whatever I've given her that she loves at the moment, and plenty of it. Long may she wave.

Aparatchick said...

That last paragraph is a classic! I think I'll print it out and post it by my mirror to remind myself that, as Chaya says, it's all about spirit.

Alyssa said...

Maria -- here's the slightly more correct quote from Andy in context:

http://perfumeoflife.com/index.php?showtopic=25504&hl=Warhol


He was a real perfumista!

Julie H. Rose said...

Great post. Thanks! It reminds me of the immense pleasure my grandmother had in her last years whenever she had her nails done. The gaudy colors she wore made her smile, something she didn't do much earlier in life.

Last week, btw, in the small shop where I sometimes work, someone said it always smelled nice when I was there because of my perfume. Even though I was complimented, I inwardly almost gasped with horror at being so "loud."

BitterGrace said...

Your mother sounds like mine, dissed. I hope we can meet their standard.

Julie, i'm the same way about perfume compliments--the perfumista paradox!

BitterGrace said...

Wow, Alyssa--I vaguely remember something about Warhol owning a lot of perfume, but I've never seen that passage before. He really was one of us.

Bozo said...

Observing the fauna of the grocery. I love it. Reads like a Turn Outward post.

BitterGrace said...

Oh, the supermarket is a fascinating ecosystem...

Karin said...

I don't think I ever smell it around here. I did smell one woman several years ago that smelled great. When I tracked her down, it was several days later, and she wasn't sure, but said it was likely White Diamonds. It never smelled like that on me, but if it had, I would have worn it.

I associate Tresor as the way older women like to smell. It always surprises me that a younger woman chose it (supposedly)and young women wear it.

It might be that I can't wear it and it smells old lady on me, heaven forbid!

BitterGrace said...

Ah, Karin--the dreaded Tresor! Before CK Euphoria came along, Tresor was my number one perfume nemesis. Can't say why, since I actually love a lot of sweet, powdery, "old" scents.

I would be curious to know where you live. I have come to the conclusion that perfume popularity has a strong regional component. We are absolutely awash in White Diamonds in these parts.