Disney villains imagined as perfume bottles
I
must firstly confess to a guilty secret, which probably ill behoves an old
unreconstructed lefty such as me – I love
perfume. And fashion. Yes, I know I look like I am dressed by Primark and George
at Asda (because I am), but nonetheless I know my Stella from my Jean-Paul, my
Manolo from my Christiane, in an academic sort of way. Perfume is part of the
fashion industry, and subject to the same commercialism and plagiarism, but it
is so much more, for scents of all kinds are hugely evocative. Tar, for
instance, will always take me back to the long, hot summers of my
childhood and is therefore redolent of carefree, endlessly idyllic days with no
responsibilities.
I am
always surprised that particular perfumes, once sought after, somehow go out of
fashion. I suppose it’s a triumph of marketing something new over our olfactory
sensibilities, for surely what was once a lovely smell still is? I am the
grateful beneficiary of this folly, for the prices plummet when a scent is no
longer fashionable and I can thus afford 5* perfumes of yore, such as Loulou
and Tommy Girl.
To
explain the * rating, I was given ‘Perfumes The Guide’ by Luca Turin and Tania
Sanchez as a present by a friend. It is a descriptive alphabetical guide to
every perfume, intended for both women and men, you have ever heard of,
complete with its history, composition and star rating by the authors. The
writing is delightful and it is an extreme compulsion to while away a day looking
up every perfume you have known, to
compare your own experience with that of the writers. And you can feel smug
that your own impeccable taste is confirmed by the star rating ascribed! This
is not invariably the case, as my love of Charlie in the 1970s is not shared by
the writers, who obviously didn’t go to the Mecca in Blackpool at that time.
If,
however, you prefer your perfume grim, grotesque and gruesome may I recommend a
novel ‘Perfume : The Story of a Murderer’ by Patrick SĪskind. This is set in 18th
century France and tells the story of a foundling, Grenouille, who has a
compulsion to kill young women – lots of them – in order to distill their essence for
perfume-making purposes. Graphic, vivid, repulsive and very compelling.
I
will finish with a rather more gentle poem by Arthur Symons.
As a
Perfume
As a perfume doth remain
In the folds where it hath lain,
So the thought of you, remaining
Deeply folded in my brain,
Will not leave me: all things leave me:
You remain.
Other thoughts may come and go,
Other moments I may know
That shall waft me, in their going,
As a breath blown to and fro,
Fragrant memories: fragrant memories
Come and go.
Only thoughts of you remain
In my heart where they have lain,
Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining,
A hid sweetness, in my brain.
Others leave me: all things leave me:
You remain.
In the folds where it hath lain,
So the thought of you, remaining
Deeply folded in my brain,
Will not leave me: all things leave me:
You remain.
Other thoughts may come and go,
Other moments I may know
That shall waft me, in their going,
As a breath blown to and fro,
Fragrant memories: fragrant memories
Come and go.
Only thoughts of you remain
In my heart where they have lain,
Perfumed thoughts of you, remaining,
A hid sweetness, in my brain.
Others leave me: all things leave me:
You remain.
Arthur Symons
Thank you for reading,
Sheilagh
1 comments:
Perfume was just not affordable or expected on "ordinary folk" in my 1950s childhood. My mother had one tiny bottle of Evening in Paris which she permitted one drop behind each ear lobe if having a rare "evening out".
Men's fragrances I remember being promoted on TV and cinema ads via blokes' blokes such as Henry Cooper with THE GREAT SMELL OF BRUT (which I hated and would not waste what little money I had in buying), but took up Aramis as a girlfriend bought me some one Christmas.
It is said that our recollection of childhood scents are among the longest-lasting of our memories - carbolic soap in the school washrooms is one I shall never forget.
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