Paris Is For Perfume Lovers: Part 3 - Meeting Denyse Beaulieu And The Undinas

Day 3 was dry (hurrah!), and I decided to wear my T K Maxx Toast dress or bust (I am of that age - I shall wear purple!), teamed with a pair of unsensible shoes.  I had arranged to hook up with Denyse Beaulieu (of Grain de Musc and The Perfume Lover fame) for coffee that morning in the 17e district - this was technically not a blind date, as I had briefly talked to her at the launch of Séville à L'aube in London last year.  Greetings over, I lost no time in apologising for the fact that I was wearing the same outfit as the last time she had met me.  'I do have other clothes.' I piped up staunchly.

The three most memorable aspects of my meeting with Denyse were firstly her silver sunglasses, a perfect match for her now luxuriantly long ('fifty shades of grey') hair.  Then there was the surprise fact that she is acquainted with the widow of Alain Robbe-Grillet, an avant-garde French author I studied at university, and thirdly - and most tantalisingly - she had just come back from a press junket the day before, held in a marquee on a rocky promontory in the wilds of Brittany.  The company's in-house perfumer had regaled them with nuggets about his portfolio of materials, while the assembled guests enjoyed a delicious lunch against an idyllic backdrop of waves lapping the shore and glinting in the sunlight.  Her evocative description of the scene made me want to visit the area again, and retest all those Breton coast-inspired scents such as Miller Harris Fleurs de Sel and the Lostmarc'h range.  It also brought back happy memories of childhood bucket and spade holidays in other parts of The Celtic Fringe such as Cornwall and SW Ireland...

After our chat, Denyse was off to visit the Guerlain factory on one of their rare opening days, while I dived on the Metro and made my way to the apartment Undina (of Undina's Looking Glass) and her vSO had booked for their stay, which had been cut short by a day owing to the air traffic controllers' strike.  We had agreed that I would meet them there, to help out with any translation issues during the handover with their landlady.

A near-miss transaction with a possible impostor

Unfortunately, Undina and her vSO were held up in traffic on the way down from the airport in a taxi - I say unfortunately, not because I was in any hurry myself, but because it was clear that the landlady was keen to get the payment for the apartment and shoot off.  Reading between the lines and observing the elaborate care with which she made up her face right there in front of me, I think she had a hot date to go to, which could explain some of her agitation.  I figured that realistically The Undinas could be another half an hour or so, so I tried to stall the landlady by asking her to show me where everything was kept and how every last appliance worked in great detail - TV, washing machine, dishwasher, several coffee machines of varying degrees of sophistication.  'Be most particular about pre-piercing the little plastic container of coffee before insertion.'

Bears a passing resemblance to the designated piercing utensil for the coffee dose thingy 

We also discussed bin and cleaning routines and the fact that the enticing terrace was sadly not weight-bearing; we pored over maps of the local area, and the landlady indicated the best restaurants, the nearest pharmacy, bank and the best bus stops for the most scenic rides.  A good five minutes were killed leafing through the visitors' book together and reading past guest comments.  I volunteered to translate a few of the English ones to gain a bit more time.  Ever the market researcher, I quizzed the lady about the relative breakdown of her client base, the average numbers of guests per rental and seasonal patterns.  She told me about one single woman who came for a month at a time, and a party of five Italians for whom she rustled up an additional roll-out bed.  Then I told her about my hotel, and we discussed the prevailing room rates in that part of Paris versus the rental sector.

Source: Wikimedia Commons via Jebulon

Readers, I did my level best to stall this lady, but it looked like it wasn't going to be for long enough, for after about twenty minutes or so she abruptly interjected: 'Look, I really must be away by 2pm latest, and I need my money.  Have you got the money, or can you go to a cash point and give it me if they don't show up in time, and have them pay you back later?'  So I thought for a moment: 'Was I be prepared to hand over a substantial sum of money in cash to a lady I don't know on behalf of two friends I have never met?'  And the answer was: 'Of course I would!', but as things worked out, the Undinas' taxi drew up just in the nick of time, the lady got paid, scarpered, and all was well.

Well, we assumed all was well, though Undina's vSO sowed a seed of doubt after the landlady's departure.  'Hold on, didn't she tell you on the phone that she was about 60?  That woman was never 60!  She looked a lot younger.'  'Do you suppose she might have had work done?' I inquired helpfully.  Undina's vSO puzzled over this for a moment and replied, with a wry grin: 'I am still not convinced she is the right woman.  D'you realise we may just have gone and paid a big wedge of money to an impostor?'

Source: qype.fr

Lunch - tasty, if somewhat lost in translation

Ever the optimists, we dismissed this thought from our minds and Undina and her vSO set about freshening themselves up and Undina also did a spot of ironing, which in hindsight was another topic I could have used to delay the landlady's departure.  'Where is the ironing board kept?  Is it a steam iron?  Any special water you have to use with that?  Would you mind talking me through the settings?  Is there an instruction book with it perhaps?  And do you have a little tea cloth type-thing for delicate garments?'

Undina and her vSO were understandably hungry from their journey, so our first port of call was a bistro on the nearby square.  Here, on my advice, Undina's vSO ordered 'cassolette', which I had momentarily confused with 'cassoulet', a hearty stew featuring meat and haricot beans.  Undina's vSO quickly detected the complete absence of either, but got sportingly stuck into what turned out to be a mega-cheesy potato gratin dish.

One day, two closed perfume shops and three pairs of shoes

Fortified by our meal, the three of us spent the next few hours walking around the city, loosely following an itinerary I had devised earlier.  The first stop was L'Arc de Triomphe, cunningly chosen for its iconic tourist value and proximity to the Guerlain HQ at No 68, Champs Elysées.   Imagine our dismay to find that Guerlain happened to be closed that day, a Friday!  Perhaps all the staff had gone to the factory with Denyse?  Seems as plausible a theory as any, but what utter and undivided cheek!  Our disappointment was only slightly assuaged by the sight of a spectacular bee bottle hoarding just to the left of the main entrance.

Pictures of bottles are no substitute for the real thing

By the time we had legged it to the Place de la Concorde my feet were killing me, and I gladly succumbed to my second pair of shoes, carried with me for just such an emergency.  These flat leather pumps were a little tight to be honest, but they pinched in different places at least compared to the high heels they had replaced.  And in footwear as in life, a change is as good as a rest.

The joy of Jovoy

We strolled along the linden-lined  rue de Rivoli, talking about the lindens in Undina's native Ukraine, dived up to the Place de Vendôme and then back down to the niche mecca that is Jovoy in the rue de Castiglione, mindful that they shut at 7pm.  I guess we must have had about half an hour browsing in there - by a happy chance there was a selection of seating for non-perfumista spouses, but Undina's vSO ended up engaging in a bit of sampling himself, all-round good egg that he was.  Undina and I worked our way round most of the store in a systematic fashion, with my comrade-at-nose occasionally having to bring me to heel as my natural instinct was to drift off and start exploring things that caught my eye anywhere in the store, much like an overexcited magpie.

I can't tell you exactly what we sniffed but I did retain some favourite blotters, chief amongst which were Ramon Monegal's Ambra di Luna (the highlight of the whole trip, no less - review by The Non-Blonde here), along with two to which Undina drew my attention, namely Xerjoff Fatal Charme and Kind of Blue from their 'Join The Club' range.  There are no available notes for either of those, but they are powdery orientals at a guess?  Undina may be able to help us out here.  Then I do remember being pleasantly surprised by The Vagabond Prince's Enchanted Forest, despite my difficult relationship with blackcurrant.  Aedes de Venustas on the other hand proved to be too tart, despite my easy relationship with rhubarb.

At chucking out time, we mosied along the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré towards the Palais-Royal gardens.  Pausing outside the now shut Serge Lutens / Shisheido store (try saying that quickly after one too many Pernods!), we peered into the sepulchral and purplish gloom of its baroque interior.  I must say that the Undinas were jolly good sports about this steady procession of closed perfume stores I brought them to - well, two out of three so far.

So we hopped on a tube to St Paul, and I showed my companions the Marais district they nearly stayed in, including the elegant colonnades of the Place des Vosges.  We shared a bottle of wine at a pavement cafe by the statue of the Bastille (thanks, guys!), before heading back to our respective bases for the briefest of pitstops before dinner (and in my case, a change into pair of shoes No 3).

It was late by this time, but the restaurant I had lined up didn't bat an eyelid when I made a booking for 10.15pm.  We rolled out of there at about midnight, armed with a dessert doggy bag, which we shared over a cup of tea at the Undinas' apartment.  Finally, it was time to say our goodbyes, which speaking for myself was quite a wrench.  For despite only having known Undina and her vSO in person for about 12 hours give or take, I had already developed a fierce affection for the pair of them, and very much hope our paths will cross again.  I'll have the cash ready this time, just in case...;-)

And what of Rusty?  Well, apparently he had a live-in carer while his owners were away, as befits a puss with America's Top Feline Model status.  I imagine he might have enjoyed Paris too - there are a lot of sewer rats and any amount of cafes for practising his poses.

Check out Undina's account of her Paris stopover, including a cute shot of Rusty inspecting her holiday perfume bottle!

PS The results of the 'Bonkers at 3.6' prize draw will be coming up next!

2012: My Bonkers List Of Perfume Resolutions And Why Nobody Needs Two Daisy Bottle Tops

So if Twentieth Night was on Saturday, that must make today Twenty-Third Day, which you could say is a bit late to be making New Year's Resolutions, perfume-related or otherwise - I have almost certainly broken a few before they are even made. Ah, but it is only 17th January though, which doesn't sound so far behind the curve of resolve.

I am very boring when it comes to resolutions in my offline life. Every year I recycle the same old suspects, knowing full well that I probably won't keep any of them much beyond the end of the week. I am attached to this particular set of goals, not least because several have synonyms that rhyme:

Drink more (not alcohol, ideally) - hydrate

Use that body brush from two Christmases ago - exfoliate

Floss more - extricate

Cook more dishes from scratch - marinate and gratinate

Stop pretending to be an American by farting about on the computer till 2am, and get to bed at a sensible time, preferably on the same day as I got up - stay up less late

Eat more fish - eg skate and whitebait

The only resolution I have adhered to from this list is the one about eating more fish (though not the regul-at-ory varieties, admittedly - more your cod and salmon).

So given my dismal failure rate with run-of-the-mill New Year's Resolutions, you would think I could do no worse by setting myself some perfume related ones, so here goes:

Grow my nails

I am an inveterate nail biter, and find it increasingly difficult to prise off the stoppers on 1ml plastic vials. (Apart from which, I have two pots of Chanel Particulière and one of Paradoxal that are about six shades behind the current fashion because I haven't had a complete set of nails of the requisite length since 2009.)



Give up 2.5ml glass atomisers as a bad job

The problems I have had with this particular atomiser style and its so-called "snap fit" mechanism have been well documented elsewhere on Bonkers. Recent retrials have been just as messy and hopeless, and it is time to admit defeat. I know that it is all about the knack - hey, I have the knack - and still it doesn't work two times out of three.



Keep the office tidy

What's that got to do with perfume, you may ask? Well, a clear desk would be conducive to work, and if I don't work I shan't be able to support my perfume habit in all its manifestations, from financing new bottle purchases to decanting supplies and perfumista meet-ups. Today I started the big tidying operation in earnest, proceeding inch by inch, like police conducting a fingertip search or archaeologists on a dig. Intriguingly, amongst the effluvium of printed matter of every kind, I found laminated visitor badges from factories in Slovenia and Poland that I must have forgotten to return on my way out.

And in case anyone is curious, the Slovenian for "visitor" would appear to be:

OBISKOVALEC



Buy what I like, and deal with it

I have given up all resolutions along the lines of: "You must drain all your samples before you buy a full bottle", or "you must wait three months from the onset of the lemming before acting on it, in case it goes away again" - or even the "no list-skipping rule" whereby you buy the bottle you had in mind to buy, and don't allow yourself to snap up something else that you have only just taken a shine to, which then jumps to the top of the queue. All these rules are so easy to break that I will not restrain my spending, just live with the guilt that will inevitably follow. In practice, I am buying far fewer full bottles than I did in the first two years of my hobby - maybe not more than one a quarter? - and have of course largely perfected the art of the "fondle and replace manoeuvre".



NB Perfume sample travel bags are one exception to the above licence to spend. I am the Imelda Marcos of the perfume sample bag, owning at least seven or eight of the things, yet I only ever take one with me on even the longest of trips. Perhaps we perfumistas crave an endless variety of these bags instead of shoes or handbags, but personally I don't think I should be encouraged. Verdict: Stay out of T K Maxx!



Plough through my pending pile of perfume books

You know how it is - nice "literary" books pile up on the bedside table, like Lisa Chaney's biography of Coco Chanel: An Intimate Life, Damage Control by Denise Hamilton or Le Parfum by J-C Ellena, and then on an impulse I will go and buy the latest Kathy Reichs with "bones" in the title, and all my good intentions to read these more worthy tomes go out the window. In fairness, I have actually read Le Parfum now (it was slimmer than a Mills & Boon, luckily), so I may be able to make short work of The Alchemy of Scent, with which I understand it has a large amount of overlap.



Don't keep a scent diary

Okay, so this is more a case of letting go of a resolution previously held. For I did make a note of my SOTD up until April 2011 - quite religiously in fact - and have scarcely been back to see what I wore on "this day last year", type of thing. Nor can I be bothered to count the number of times I wore x, y and z scents, to see what styles or individual perfumes I am particularly drawn to. It isn't that I wouldn't find such information interesting - I would, and I admire the likes of Undina for her detailed analysis of her own scent behaviour - but I just don't have the energy to crunch the numbers.



Lose the nose bag

On the shelf above my head is a brown paper bag that looks like a nose bag. It contains a jumble of un- or once-tested scents waiting for another trial and review of their long term category status. It is the perfume sample equivalent of Guantanamo Bay or a prison wing full of lifers on appeal, and this unfortunate state of limbo mustn't be allowed to go on another year.



Don't keep perfume boxes in the fridge

Cardboard is hygroscopic - those wavy boxes with blurry lettering and tide marks are trying to tell you something.



Next up: the "YOU WILL NEVER HAVE A USE FOR THIS - SO WHY ARE YOU KEEPING IT?" series:

Empty manufacturers' sample cards

There used to be a vial of perfume in there, but it has either been used up or transferred to a travel bag, where the card would be a bulky inconvenience. Once a bulky inconvenience, always a bulky inconvenience. Verdict: chuck!



The innards of Serge Lutens boxes

Serge Lutens boxes have particularly complex internal architecture, on account of the fact that they come with both screw top and interchangeable atomiser. If the innards of the box have managed to strike out on their own, it is time to set them free.



Empty atomisers impregnated with a particular scent

Wash or let go? I decided - against all my instincts - to try washing the more expensive atomisers in this motley collection of empty perfume decants. Will let you know if it works. They may be soaking some time...



Futile funnels

Narrow, with a short stubby neck that is neither use nor ornament. I'd be better off throwing away these pointless funnels and using that nice plastic bag for something else...



Multiple bottle tops

There is a reason for how I came to have two tops for the same bottle. See if anyone can guess - it can be like one of those lateral thinking puzzles, you know, the ones involving a chair, a noose and a block of ice, or where a man cuts off his arm and sends it to another man in the post.... : - )



Upping the ante further, I appear to have about 14? atomiser tops to fit just one remaining bottom in this spiral 10ml size. How on earth did that happen? And why am I hanging on to the other 13...?





Photo of shopaholic from glamriah.com, other photos my own

Bottega Veneta EDP Review: Cashmere Mist Goes To Finishing School

Not long after "sudden onset perfume mania" struck in early 2008, I progressed from printing out sheaves of fragrance pyramids of individual scents from Osmoz to setting about acquiring samples to try. The very first of these was a twin pack of DKNY Delicious Night and Cashmere Mist. The steel wool and Ribena disaster that is the former nearly put me off my nascent hobby for ever, while the latter appealed to me primarily on account of the name. Back then, I wouldn't have been able to tell benzoin from a bento box or Benny Hill.

I wore the spray vial of Cashmere Mist on the first day of a long work trip, to meetings with shoe factories on the Dutch/German border. It was a grey, damp, mizzly kind of day that makes you feel cold to your bones, and the perfume acted as a cosy scarf. I shan't say cashmere, because it was a bit rougher than that - let's go with mohair for now, but that is really a bit too far along the scratchy spectrum.

Notes: bergamot, jasmine, lily of the valley, suede, sandalwood, vanilla, amber, musk and cashmere

And before long I discovered the swap scene, and thanks to lovethescents Cashmere Mist became my first full bottle of perfume (if you discount the seven year old bottle of EL Intuition, which had gone quietly rancid on my bedroom windowsill at some point between 2001 and 2008).

Fast forward three and a half years to the launch of Bottega Veneta EDP. I have now looked this house up and clocked that it is a luxury Italian brand of leather goods. I rather like the look of the ones with a basket weave effect. The name is a bit of a mouthful, mind. The word "Bottega" made me think of "bodega", which in turn makes me think of Spanish wine bars and that place in Northern California where they shot The Birds.

With mounting interest, I read Denyse of Grain de Musc's account of her visit to Paris to meet the perfumer, Michel Almairac, at the launch event - also attended by Katie Puckrik - and each subsequent review I have come across has served to fuel my anticipation further.

Katie sums up this scent in a tweet as: "a secret leather accord femmed up with jasmine". I realise that I am drawn to perfumes with a secret accord of any kind - it is becoming clear to me that I like a hint of mystery in a fragrance... It was Katie indeed who pointed out the secret leather accord in another recent love of mine, L'Agent by Agent Provocateur, and I am pleased to report that I have finally detected it! I'd say that Ormonde Jayne's Ta'if smells mysterious too, though I couldn't put my finger on why exactly. Secret date accord? Accord for a secret date, more like. : - )

Anyway, back to Bottega Veneta and its link to Cashmere Mist. Here is the leatherless note list:

Notes: "bergamot, pink pepper, jasmine, plum, patchouli, benzoin and oakmoss"

The overall vibe of Bottega Veneta is very soft and tender. It's quite rich and fruity initially - possibly the pepper and plum, or maybe even the patchouli? peeking through - but this fades fast. The benzoin gives it that vanillic, fuzzy aspect, but it is less fuzzy and more refined than in Cashmere Mist, which has a slightly synthetic feel if I am honest. Yes, this is Cashmere Mist that has gone to finishing school. The leather note in Bottega Veneta is suede-y rather than leathery, as Olfactoria also found, dubbing it "graceful suede". Cashmere Mist has suede too, but it is quite muted and I get more benzoin than leather of any kind.

Bottega Veneta is also reminiscent of Daim Blond, another fuzzy scent that was sadly raspy on me - in my review I described it as "suede-scented white noise". And then there is a peachy/apricoty note in Bottega Veneta which isn't in Cashmere Mist and which - dare I say it - makes me think of YSL Belle d'Opium. And that also ties back to Daim Blond, which is fuzzy, suede-y AND apricot-y, though not in a good way. And of course apricots have a slightly furry texture, and that is about the level of "nap" we are speaking of in Bottega Veneta.

Notes: "Leather, Iris, Apricot Kernel, Musk, Hawthorn, Jasmine, Cardamom, Heliotrope"

Crucially, there is no apricot or peach listed in Bottega Veneta, and I am struggling to spot the jasmine: it's plum, apricot, patchouli, suede and benzoin for me, but way smoother than those notes connote!

So anyway, between those three fragrances, I think I have covered off the other scents Bottega Veneta reminds me of...Okay, maybe also a teeny bit of Indult Isvaraya (jasmine, plum patchouli), but that is heavier and darker by comparison. Good winter choice, though, while Bottega Veneta fits this time of year perfectly.

In summary then, Bottega Veneta is a sophisticated Cashmere Mist with added fruit and a more pronounced suede note. So nothing like it then, I hear you cry, but it was an inspirational starting point, so that counts! I guess Bottega Veneta also deserves a more ethereal name, if DKNY's more mainstream offering gets one. Hmm, something like "Suede Mist", say. Yes, that is perfect.

The day I tried Bottega Veneta for the first time, I met up with a friend at pilates, who had stopped wearing perfume - distracted by the needs of her growing family - but is keen to experiment now. I surprised her with one of my carded samples (I bought a few, in lieu of a bottle), and she thanked me. "It's very soft and soothing", I said, "so I thought it might be a good place for you to start."

"Oh great!" she replied. "I've got a big day tomorrow, with loads of people coming to an event that I have organised. So I might just wear your perfume then, as I need to stay calm."

I inquired where this event was taking place, and it turned out to be IN A LEATHER MUSEUM...My friend could have just done with that nice statement bag and she'd have been all set.



As for me, given my well-documented penchant for all things quiet and understated, I feel as though I have "come home" with Bottega Veneta. It's early days of course, and I should factor in my Flittersniffer Flibbertygibbet persona, but Bottega Veneta may have all the credentials to be that alien construct of a signature scent, were I ever so self-denying as to assign myself such a thing. Yes, if any perfume could whip me into scent monogamy submission, this floral leather chypre might just be the one.


Photo of Bottega Veneta from the company's website, photo of Cashmere Mist from kissandmakeup.tv, photo of bag from purseblog.com, photo of gloves from sweetspot.ca, photo of gaiters from the leather museum's website.

Fascination Perfumery - Chewing The Cud And Working The Floor

In the early days of this blog I wrote about my discovery of Fascination Perfumery in Lytham St Annes here.

Last Saturday, before driving up to my friend's party, I popped into the shop again. Well, "pop" is hardly the right term to describe my two hour visit - or was it two and a half hours? I rather lost track of time, as you do in that Aladdin's Tardis of a perfume store. I am sure I said goodbye to Lynn(e) the proprietor (one year on, I am still unsure about the "e") at least three times, but it was a real struggle to tear myself away.

My original post about the store gives you an idea of the wide range of niche brands stocked and its "rummage sale" style of merchandising, with every inch of counter space jam-packed with bottles. The EPOS payment terminal nestled in a forest of Serge Lutens testers, and I am surprised that more customers didn't pick up the latest addition, Cuir Mauresque, and peer intently at the label, waiting for it to say: "Pin approved" or "Return terminal to merchant".

This visit followed a similar pattern to last time. Lynne and I shot the breeze with a barrage of quick-fire questions to each other about anything and everything: our respective views on new releases, favourite notes, attitudes to naturals vs synthetics, the retail scene in London vs the rest of the country, the blogosphere, perfumistas we both knew and so on. However, Saturday is - as you would expect - the store's busiest trading day, and there was a constant stream of customers throughout the time I was there. Well aware of this, every time a prospective punter appeared, I would melt into the nearest fixture so as not to inhibit a sale. As a result, our marathon conversation was hilariously disjointed, with a number of our questions left hanging in the air - we simply couldn't remember them when the latest customer left just a few minutes later, purchase in hand.

Yes, that is something which struck me very noticeably on this occasion: the fact that almost all the customers made a purchase, and if they didn't it was often down to the fact that the specific scent they were after had been discontinued. There were no gaggles of young girls loitering by the fixture of celebuscent testers, surreptitously spraying themselves from top to toe. Most of Fascination's clientele came in with a definite intention to buy: I observed an equal mixture of people requesting a scent by name and those who entrusted themselves to Lynne for guidance. A lot of the customers were regulars and Lynne was clearly already familiar with their preferences. "You like jasmine, don't you?", I overheard her say to one middle-aged lady whose older sister was set on buying her a bottle of perfume as a birthday gift. She tested Houbigant Quelques Fleurs, Bvlgari Voile de Jasmin, TDC Jasmin de Nuit and Versace pour Femme, and plumped for the Versace.

I must confess that I didn't make a purchase, though my eye lingered longingly at one point on a bottle of Etro Etra. And I managed to test a shedload of things along the way, partly as a result of my own forensic rummaging, and partly thanks to Lynne drawing my attention to new releases or scents she thought I might like. Unfortunately, I was much too pumped up to recall most of these with anything approaching a coherent impression, but the list below features most of the ones I sampled (based on deciphering the usual heap of scent strips I disinterred from the depths of my handbag today):

Hermes Eau Claire des Merveilles (great improvement on the original, as in less orangey, salty and weird-woody)
Annick Goutal Rose Absolue (straight up, dewy, blowsy, girly rose)
Annick Goutal Rose Splendide (extremely green, sappy rose)
Calandre Metal (metallic chypre!)
Amouage Memoir (much more like Epic or Lyric than expected - ie dusty/herbal/spicy number - can this be a false Memoir?? I was expecting complete sensory overload. Aha - maybe it was Man, not Woman!)
Amouage Ciel & Reflection Woman? (memory is fuzzy, but I remember both as being fresh, watery, very pleasant and inoffensive)
Serge Lutens Cuir Mauresque (another uncongenial SL in classic musty style)
Creed Aventus (not too overtly manly, crisp and slightly bracing - I could almost wear this)
Etro Via Verri (refreshing for reasons now lost to me)
Lubin Gin Fizz (as above, though there may be a clue in the name)
Floris Bouqet de la Reine (slightly aquatic? fruity floral)
Bvlgari Man (forgettable but nice, with added perk of Clive Owen's photo on the scent strip)

Yes, I am afraid that the actual sniffing experience was secondary to the fun of chewing the cud with Lynne - and her right hand man, Lorenzo, from time to time - though he was busy with customers a lot of the time.

Towards the end of the visit I had become almost as much of a fixture as the Creed display or the bargain bin of miniatures, to the point where a couple of customers mistook me for a sales assistant. One lady, whom Lynne had just informed that Dune body lotion was no longer available, stood forlornly in front of the Dior stand, before turning to me to inquire what might be the next best thing. Now there is a tricky question for a neophyte SA!, for in my experience there is frankly nothing like Dune - which I once heard described as "a Gothic beach scent". Rather lamely, I replied that Midnight Poison, while not hugely similar, also had a bit of a melancholy feel to it. Clutching at straws, I fully admit. But then, a breakthrough...another customer inquired about men's shower gel, and I was able to tell her that there was a JPG one for men in stock (I had just watched a chap buy a tube on Lynne's advice as a substitute for Joop!). "It's £19", I continued, on a roll, and the lady said she would take one.

Yay! Next time I visit - if I gauge it right - I may get to work at Fascination a whole Saturday, which would simply be the best fun that can be had.


Fascination website

Photos are all my own