Sniff my Sillage, Baby

So often I read comments by fellow perfume fanatics on various blogs and forums that they don’t want the scent of their perfume to offend others. Most seem extremely sensitive and wary of anyone being able to smell their perfume, their sillage (aka scent trail) AT ALL. It seems that it’s now considered rude for anyone to smell your perfume except you. Perhaps that’s why L’Artisan is doing so well. Because surely, unless you have your nose stuck to your wrist, even you won’t smell a thing while wearing L’Artisan.

Oh, I sort of get it. I had a former colleague, who wore Giorgio, and she over applied it, to the point that her office perpetually wreaked of Giorgio as if she had sprayed the walls with it. I’ve also experience Calvin Klein Eternity on the subway, when the train had broken down, and the AC stopped, in the middle of July, and all of us passengers were cramped in that subway car like sardines with someone who must have mistakenly spilled an entire bottle of Eternity on herself (I had to think it was a mistake). So, yeah, I get it, it can be awful to be overcome by someone else’s perfume.

I’m *not* talking about over application. I’m addressing simple ordinary sillage. I absolutely want sillage from my perfume. I want individuals who enter my office to get a light whiff of my perfume. I want those who ride in the car with me, those seated right next to me, to smell my perfume. I wanted the person standing next to me in the elevator get a whiff. Call me crazy, call me rude, call me whatever you want, but I will not wear perfume that doesn’t have sillage. Without a doubt I wear perfume for myself. I wear perfume that I like, but I also unabashedly wear perfume so that others think I smell good (you can insert sexy, nice, unusual, smokin’, mysterious, in place of “good” depending on the day).

If a perfume is strong with mega-sillage, then I apply it lightly. I’d much rather have the issue of too much sillage, and adjust to a lighter application, than too little sillage, leaving me to douse myself to smell a damn thing. Take Lou Lou by Cacharel for instance. The past week I’ve had a Lou Lou reunion. Lou Lou has amazing sillage and longevity. The fact that I adore the scent of Lou Lou coupled with its tenacity and sillage means I think Lou Lou rocks the free world. Other good examples are Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur and Carnal Flower – props to Malle for these creations. Keiko Mecheri’s Loukhoum, while ethereal and delicate, is a beautifully tenacious juice – props to Ms. Mecheri for creating a sillage sensation. I could go on and on but you get the point.

Bottom line: I hope this over-sensitivity to fragrance doesn’t get any worse and in the meantime ~ sniff my sillage, baby.

Patchouli: The Dreaded Note

It seems as if everyone hates the smell of patchouli. I often wonder if this is merely because of the association with hippie dippy flower children or if everyone really hates the smell.

Patchouli is, without a doubt, a strong smell and it doesn’t wash off easily. It surely is one tenacious little note. I often see posters on the fragrance boards saying that they liked xyz fragrance until they noticed a hint of patchouli, then it was ruined. I can’t say that I’ve ever hated the smell of patchouli. In a way, I like it. To me, it’s rather clean smelling in its oddly musky earthy way.

I’ve been to several ‘Dead Shows,’ not because I love the Greatful Dead but because I’m utterly amused by the scene. The overpowering smell of patchouli is always a given, as are people begging for a ‘miracle’ (a ticket) and selling vegetarian fare (Dead Heads needed to eat since they camped out in parking lots for days on end). Sometimes I think the smell of patchouli mixing with an unclean person’s skanky body odor is what many people consider the actual smell of patchouli. If you subtract the skanky body odor, which is what the patchouli was meant to cover, you actually find an interesting fragrance. I’ve been one of the (perhaps few) who always try a scent when it’s blended with patchouli. L’Artisan Voleur de Roses is one example of this. I couldn’t wait to try it, and I loved it. I love the scent, but like most L’Artisan fragrances, it disappears within 20 minutes, even the patchouli note couldn’t make a L’Artisan last a full hour.

This brings me to a patchouli fragrance that I just love and wear often. It’s Keiko Mecheri Patchoulissime. So far, no one has commented or made a face that I stink like patchouli when I wear Keiko Mecheri’s patchouli. I’m so happy to have finally found a perfumer that treats patchouli as the centerfold of a fragrance and does it in a beautiful delicate wearable way. Perhaps if enough time passes, so that most don’t remember the association between patchouli and unclean hippies, everyone can stop hating patchouli so much. I think it’s a misunderstood and sadly unused note in most perfumes. It adds a gorgeous depth and lasting power, especially to musky perfumes but also to florals. Congratulations to Keiko Mecheri for being brave enough to take on the “dreaded note.”