Serendipitous Perfume

A few weekends ago I was tasked with training my fellow Lush staff in Belfast regarding all things perfume. I try not to think of myself as an expert, however I do know a thing or two and what I love doing most of all is inspiring those around me about perfume. I really do believe there’s an infinite number of stories to be told about fragrance, from the perfumer to the personal, there’s a huge discourse already out there.

I relied a little on an event that inspired me to no end this summer in order to get this job done, and that was when Odettte Toilette visited Dublin. That evening I was left with an enlightenment of sorts. I never thought my imagination could be sparked, fired and soothed simply by smelling fragrance. I’ve always been intrigued by memory and smell, but that evening I was turning a corner into the present and appreciating the hear and now of perfume. How does it make me feel? Where am I imagining myself right now?

And so, I wanted to transfer some of that evening to my other Lushies. There was of course business things which I won’t share too much of here, but I hope below sheds some light on how serendipitous the mind can be when it comes to perfume.

Consequences

When Odette Toilette (Lizzie) came to Dublin, she had her attendees play the game of Consequences. It goes like this, one person (me) writes down a set of questions on a sheet of paper. Players each answer one question and fold over their answer so the next player can’t see the previous. At the end it reads a collaborative story where every player has had a say. What this usually means is, there are similarities, surprises and common themes to be found. The perfume twist is that everyone in a group, usually four or five, are each smelling the same perfume whilst answering their questions, and as such, it reveals certain things about that person and the group, based on their answer/s.

Below is group one and two’s answers when smelling Breath of God by Gorilla Perfume. Each answer from each question is from a different person which explains why things don’t match up. However it makes for an interesting read.

Who is this man wearing the fragrance?

1. This man is my grandfather. Sitting down on his favourite armchair next to the fire. Smoking his pipe while he flips through the Sunday newspaper.
2. Not a man, my grandmother. Smells like her bedside-table drawer—medicinal and cough sweets and hand-cream. Smells like her getting ready for bed.

Describe what his home is like.

1. Retro, lots of browns and oranges, leather sofa, clean, no clutter.
2. A ski lodge. Fireplace. Mulled wine. Winter all year round. Christmas tree. Warm.

What does he do for a living/what is his job?

1. Academic. Lecturer (English?) at a university.
2. Something “outdoorsy”—lumberjack!

What are his hobbies/what does he like doing in his spare time?

1. Skateboarding and surfing/wakeboarding in the summer. Playing frisbee in the park.
2. Mountain biking, taming dinosaurs etc.

When is he most happiest?

1. Sports—skiing/snowboarding, being outdoors/active.
2. When she is at the kitchen baking cakes for friends or making dinner for family. Caring for people through food.

What is his philosophy to life?

1. Live day by day, work for what you want or you won’t get, but remember to do unto others as you would like done to you :)
2. Go after your goals. Does his own thing. Makes his own rules.

When I read out the answers to everyone, we were all shocked to hear that the two groups matched grandparents to Breath of God and that he/she liked being outdoors, active and enjoying nature. Is this your grandfather/mother? Could you sell this perfume to a person perhaps wishing to buy their grandparent a gift?

Here’s the second set of Consequences.

Who is this man wearing the fragrance?

1. A young girl actually, in her teens struggling with her identity. Not sure of what she likes or what she wants to smell like during the day…?
2. French chef/owner of deli. Fun, jokey, bouncy, enthusiastic, heart and soul.

Describe what his home is like.

1. In the middle of nowhere in a forest or on top of some cliffs or both. Windy, wood fire, warm with a fresh breeze, white linens on the bed.
2. A tent or a teepee, orange or light in colour so when the sun shines on the tent in the morning it is warm and bright.

What does he do for a living?

1. Something that allows him to have a massive big beard.
2. Doctor/Vet

What are his hobbies/what does he like doing in his spare time?

1. Playing the banjo, building model ships and cooking stew.
2. Tent-building, fig gathering, scimitar-sharpening. There are not that many hobbies in the desert.

When is he most happiest?

1. Travelling/trekking, sleeping in tents etc.
2. Having a drink and dancing to a ska/reggae band.

What is his philosophy to life?

1. Live life in the moment, be spontaneous.
2. Take each day as it comes. Live life to the fullest.

It was so revealing to discover that collectively, The Smell of Freedom by Gorilla Perfume was making several people think of tents. It is such a specific association to make and I can confirm that no one was sharing answers or whispering! In some ways it’s not surprising that people think of the outdoors. Perfume is plucked from nature, and so I think most people associate something in a fragrance back to nature.

It’s fun to create a fragrance character profile this way. Perhaps this man is indeed a vet? Maybe he lives in the outback of Australia, in the desert, in an orange tent with a big beard cooking stew for supper. He plays the banjo when the sun goes down and is spontaneous with his improvisation. His outlook on life is to take each day as it comes and live life to the fullest.

I couldn’t agree more myself.

Confetti

I was asked a while back, “Would you be interested in giving me your ‘scentpertise’ for a fragrance article?” I smiled and said, “I do.”

Irish bridal magazine, Confetti, and Beaut.ie blogger Kirstie McDermott was wanting to lift the veil on perfume and personality/bridal types and I was thrilled to give my two “scents” on the topic.

If you’re in Ireland, pick up the Winter 2011 edition and flip to pages 56 and 57. And while you’re at it, read Kirstie’s words of wisdom too on all things fragrant.

I thought I’d also publish here the scentpertise questions. In print, like film, some things wind up on the cutting room floor.

Do you think certain fragrance notes go with a certain personality type?  For example, does it follow that lily of the valley will be worn by shy types and massive OTT night blooming jasmine by Amy Winehouse types?

I think to some degree, yes, certain types are attracted to certain odours. We seek out ourselves even in fragrance. Sometimes there’s conditioning and influence involved. Men and women of every age are led to believe a few things because of marketing and advertising. In perfume, younger women tend to seek out what’s infamously named on perfume forums and websites, as a “fruitichouli.” Think, Juicy Couture and Harajuku Lovers by Gwen Stefani. These are scents you know and can recognise. They’re young, bubblegummy, sweet, fruity, floral and incredible tenacious to wear. They smell like pineapples, nondescript flowers and are chock full of sweets. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The mainstream, high-street has a high volume of these, and so doing, more often than not, women tend to pick these because of a saturated variety of choice. The perfume tends to be cheaper to make too.

I will say though, the rule is, there is no rule. Perfume is inexorably personal. You are guaranteed to be surprised when you know your friend loves Angel by Thierry Mugler, but hates Flowerbomb by Vikor & Rolf. They smell quite similar, but something in the juice can stand out miles to her, and not to you. Perception has a huge role to play too. What you can actually identify in what you’re smelling. Emotions have a say too. How you feel about a smell. You can begin to see how not black and white and all encompassing it is!

Do we gravitate towards certain smells based on our personalities and by extension the things we’re interested in? For example, if you’re an extrovert it’s more likely you’re going to be out and about exploring, being open to experiences – and therefore possibly more adventurous scent choices – than if you’re at home a lot, not doing those things. If you’re a nosey type you may research fragrance more, too. Would that be a fair thing to say?

Again it’s hard to say. A quiet, comfortable woman may dress to be unseen. But, she could really surprise you some day when her presence is announced by an outrageous perfume like Gucci Rush. She might not “get it” that Gucci Rush is maybe a little big for her quiet personality, but what’s important, is that she simply enjoy the smell for what it is, in all its development.

Perhaps people who are more adventurous are indeed more willing to try new things. I can see spontaneous people spraying every scent card in sight. However I bet that if you were to travel around the perfume counters with them, their adventurous streak may be reigned in around a family of fragrances. Their likes may reveal they love loads of perfume but only in a particular family of fragrances, like floral, gourmand or chypré perfume.

How much does the recent fad for celebrity scent override an ‘inbuilt’ prelediction towards a natural scent style? Do people end up wearing entirely the wrong perfume these days purely because they want to buy into a celebrity lifestyle?

I would say with certainty yes. Jennifer Lopez is on to something like her 18th fragrance release this year. Some women see her as a glamours figurehead, perhaps getting a little over their head when it comes to having the life she has, not necessarily wanting to be her, or even like her. Not being able to live in that way means perfume is an accessible, affordable means to emanate this—depending on the fragrance. If J Lo has one, I can too. If Britney has one, I can too. If Jordan has one, I can too. I personally question the likeability of most of these fragrances, but then, that’s me. My close friend loves Curious by Britney Spears. She’s not a girly-girl, like Britney. In one way, I think she could pick something more suited, but on the flip-side does that really matter? She’s like the smell and that’s the important thing.

The pleasure of perfume shopping is that, it’s not much of a pleasure on the high-street. There’s a lot of celebrity juice out there. Some of it good, some of it I own. But a lot of it is trite to me. It smells very samey. It’s important to remember, to choose the fragrance you feel connected to. Not because you think you have to. Stop to think about something different too, then go and explore that. Ask the Sales Assistant to show you something similar. Celebrities and their perfume are just a small tip of the iceberg of truly, beautiful, astounding perfume.

Any tips for identifying the right scent for you? How should a person who has no real clue about how to buy perfume approach it based on their personality – are there any fail-safe pointers?

I’d go so far as to say, your personality will give away the starting point, after that you should really follow your nose. How do you feel when you smell a fragrance on the scent card? What does it make you think of? If you simply “like it” walk on a bit more. When you are really liking something, stop to try it on your skin. Try on at most two or three. Make sure they are spaced well apart on you skin, not your scarf. Resit the urge to impulse buy. Walk out of the shop and smell it in the fresher air. Give it a few hours. Now what do you think? The perfume will have dried down and you may be bowled over by something later in the day that wasn’t there before, this can be the wonderful thing about perfume. It may surprise you. It might even make you smile.

Lastly, and so importantly, ignore the sale on offer. Ignore the shower gel, deodorant gift set. Do not be fooled by, “That’s really popular,” from the Sales Assistant. And never impulse buy! I’ve regretted a few urges in my time.

Oh and if you’re buying a perfume as a gift, subtly bring the lucky person with you. It sounds sappy to say it this way, but share the time with them and remember their reaction to something. Their eyes will give the game away. Rolled eyes in the back of the head are a very good sign, then you’ll be getting them something you know they love. You can act like you knew all along!

The Bothy – Arthur’s Aunt

Instead of driving a few feet down the road to the Chinese take-away, I decided to walk it for a change. I was having a bad day. Not the worst day, but just a shitter-than-usual one. The fresh air would do me good.

The town was busy for a Tuesday evening—student nights are Thursdays and they were out in force for something.

I made my way into Happy Panda and I had a flashback of my time in China with Chris, my twin brother.

We were in a restaurant that smelled exactly like what Happy Panda was smelling like tonight. Why was this memory coming through now? I’d been here lots of times before, in fact probably too often, so why China and Chris now?

Thinking back on it anyway, what a blast we had. We spent three months just bumming around the country. We started off in Hong Kong for a few weeks. Partying all night and then for days, spending time apart. I would sit in parks drinking coconut milk or tea and could have stayed there all day if it weren’t for the humidity.

We took trains and busses all over the country and spent days in secluded villages that really were off the beaten track and guidebooks. Once, we stayed in this mountain village hut/hostel and couldn’t believe ourselves we were here.

I can remember one night we went out, must have been four in the morning, and followed a path along a river near where we were sleeping. We didn’t have a clue where we were going, or even had any fear for our lives because the slate path was slippery and raised towards the water. We were silent, and this is what I love about my brother, we don’t have to say anything to each other.

The place was still. The cicadas and crickets had even stopped, or I had stopped hearing them. The only noise was my heartbeat, and the sound of the gushing water.

The further we went, the louder it got, and within the hour we knew a waterfall was somewhere upstream.

Chris was so damn happy that night. Here we were, right in the middle of a village, in a gorge, in China. He was, and still is, much more adventurous than me—his decision all along to come here, and to China. When it’s just us two, he brings out the best in me and I’d go along for the caper. Up ahead, he would turn and smile to me every so often with a look on his face that just said, “I can’t believe we’re here.” Cheshire-cat smile.

Soon enough the most unbelievable sight presented itself, the source of this river and nature looking stunning. A waterfall complete with plunge pool and hut-home by the water’s edge. We were gobsmacked and in awe. Living in Belfast all your life you don’t exactly see the world like this, or imagine someone, somewhere is living beside a waterfall.

The moonlight was in a perpetual state of flux as the waterfall made ripples in the pool below. We were getting drenched in the cool spray and decided now was the time to plonk ourselves down and just stare all around us—drinking it in.

We weren’t exactly doing anything wrong, but it felt mischievous none the less. This whole area probably belonged to the village where we were staying.

A Chinese door-greeting beeped out at me and Arthur was working behind the counter at the back.

“Jack, wha’s the craic?”

“All good thanks Arthur. Busy tonight?”

“So-so. Students are out in force like! We’ll be busy later when the pubs shut.”

Arthur’s cool, in his late forties I think. He’s lived here all his life so he tells me, and has a thick west Belfast accent.

“Can’t be a bad thing?”

“Aye, keeps the Mrs happy. What’ll it be?”

“Kung Po chicken.”

“Boiled rice, fried rice?”

“Fried rice.”

He nodded and went back to the kitchen and I sat in a booth with my back to the counter. I flipped through the bunch of newspapers and its innards.

I was getting into a story, of what must be an infinite amount of stories on the failing economy, when I felt a poke on my shin. I cursed and pulled the papers down to see a five foot tall Chinese woman with one leg, two crutches and a jet black beehive hairdo.

“Yo, long face, wha’s up?”

What the…

She poked me again with her left crutch, “Eh, sad face, wha’s up?”

“Hey what are you at?” I tried to brush her off, literally, brush her crutch poking off my leg.

“You come in here tonight, everyone else so happy.”

“Ah, ok…”

“Squeeze up. Make room.”

Oh god no. How long was Arthur going to be? In a place with about twelve free tables, four other people, this woman sits beside me, not even in the facing seat. I couldn’t turn around now too or she’d poke me again.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Man up. Why so sad?” She had direction that’s for sure.

“I’m not sad.”

“Yes, you are. Everyone else here so happy. You… um, not so much.” She was either going for wise and know-it-all, or mental and deranged.

“I’m not sad.”

“Oh yeah big boy,” She burst out laughing, “You are Tommy Cooper. You are laughing. You are smiling.”

“I’m not laughing right now… besides, this is a take-away restaurant at eight-thirty on a Tuesday evening, no one in here is happy.”

“You so clever!” She had a really deep voice when she was being sarcastic. “You come in here, all sighs and tuts and you drag your feet up to my nephew. No pleases or thank yous.”

Ah. Visiting, “I’m sorry…” Was that what she wanted to hear?

“Sorry, pfft! Sorry for wha?”

“For being rude to Arthur. I didn’t think I was.”

“That’s a problem you have! You need work on that!”

I really didn’t need a lecture this evening. I was more than polite to Arthur, I think. I hope. Damn she was confusing me.

“Listen, I don’t need any…”

“Your problem. You having a mild day. Some people are off with you. You take it on board. You not even polite with Huan!”

“I’m sorry, what? Who’s Huan?”

“My nephew!” She swung her crutch and whacked my shin again.

“Stop that!” I yelled. “I forgot, sorry,” I rubbed my shin, “Stop that please.”

“You don’t know hardship. You don’t know difficulty. You think you having bad day, big boy. You need think again.”

“I think my food is ready.”

“No. Huan is too slow, and fat. We have five mo minutes.”

I looked at the clock on the wall—eight-oh-five.

“Do you know Pinocchio?”

Oh my god. Is she being serious? “Yeah. Sure, why not.”

“No sarcasm.”

“I’m sorry, continue.”

“He lies. What happens when he lies?”

“His nose gets longer?”

“Pig shit! He deceives everyone around him. Make them think he telling truth. That’s a lie. He lie to himself.”

“What’s your point?”

“You lie.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do.”

“No. I don’t.”

“We do this all night Tommy Cooper!” She laughed her head off at what was fast becoming the wax-on, wax-off moment of her life, and my worst evening imaginable.

“No more lies. Be happy for change.”

“Kung Po chicken fried rice.” A girl said behind me.

“Can you excuse me?” I said to Arthur’s mental aunt.

“Ok, but be happy.” She continued to sit there looking at me. It was then that I noticed her, really noticed her. She had wrinkled skin like I’d never seen before. Her general presence reeked of stale cigarettes and something sweet, like intense vanilla and chocolate. Her breath stank, I was sure of that. But her smile, she looked genuinely happy and content.

“Oh, ok. I promise.”

“Good.” She got up, and hobbled off and poked a woman’s shin a few booths up. “Squeeze up. Make room, Tina Turner.”

It was ten past eight on the clock. I grabbed my food and bolted for the side exit instead of having to pass her and Tina.

Autumn Memories

“I’m going to blindfold you now. What I want you to do is relax and just let your memories and imagination run for a while.” An orange vintage silk scarf was wrapped around my eyes.

I was seated at the Gorilla Perfume counter in Lush Leeds when Pammy had instructed me we were going to do a perfume/smell/memory experiment of sorts. Much like a previous experience I had in Lush Henry Street, I removed myself from perfume expectations and ideas and cleared my mind.

“Now, if you had to choose only three odours or odour memories of yours, that you were to be left with, what would they be?”

I’m such a foodie a heart, “Easy, fried garlic and coffee,” I struggled for a moment for my third choice, “Perhaps, a particular autumn day when I was around eight or nine years old.”

“That autumn day, can you describe it to me? What were you doing?”

“I’m with my friends, we’re cycling on our bikes and we’re going to go past the point in the village that our parents forbid us to go. We cycled up the hill, past the witch’s house (a scary house at the the time we could have swore a witch lived in) and went up the road to a small patch of tall strong trees.”

“What are you doing there?”

“We were collecting conkers.”

“What else do you remember?”

“I remember the colours vividly. Yellow and gold leaves in the trees, a warm colour in the air, a damp mossy covered fence and brown, maroon leaves on the ground. Sifting for conkers. It’s a very cold day, a little fog in the air, cloudy breath, runny nose.” I think I can only just barely recall the smell in the air, but that might be my present-self projecting what I think I was smelling back then.

“Great. I’m going to place a glass in your hands and I want you to imagine that scene again when you inhale the fragrance.”

And so, as I breathed in the glass, I could straight away see the colours I remember of that day gathering conkers. It’s a very particular gold, yellow colour, and the perfume under my nose smells like that a little. It’s certainly a warm fragrance, suggestive of richness and warmth, but it wasn’t a strong association. I have a very familiar connection to the Gorilla Perfume range, but I was a little unsure what I was smelling. Perhaps my mind was working hard on the instructions given to me. Also, I think it’s important when (literally in this case) blind smelling, not to try and guess and figure components of a fragrance out, but to let go, inhale and appreciate or feel the fragrance working.

I told Pammy that this was pleasant and I was indeed “ah-ha’ing” and smiling.

“I’ll take that glass out of your hand. Now, with the same memory in place, smell this one.”

Glasses were swapped, still blindfolded I took in the second aroma. I had a much stronger reaction, or dare I say, association with the cool, menthol and slightly peppery perfume. I couldn’t tell which perfume this was either, but I was definitely feeling a cold autumnal day, cool pale blues, and fresh crisp air. As I’m writing this post up, I’m wondering if my reaction to this fragrance is because I smelled “peppery” decaying leaves last week in my Dentist Trip Odour Map. I had never before smelled pepper in autumn, and whilst this fragrance under my nose was peppery only slightly, I can’t help but think, is this my mind re-wiring itself?

Either way, without dissecting things, I was strongly feeling connected to the second perfume. It was The Smell of Weather Turning. The first perfume was The Smell of Freedom. Both to me are very opposite perfumes, one is literally warm the other cool. Where one reminds me of dryness, the other reminds me of dampness. Dust and dew.

I’m looking forward to going home now and seeing for myself a couple of days later if I have the same reaction or memories to each perfume.

The Bothy – Red Deer

“What’s going on, Michelle? You have something pissing you off and you’re being snappy with me.”

She huffed. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

I know what that meant—something. “So how long have you been tired?”

“A while.” She unfolded her arms awkwardly. Then folded them again in the same manner.

“But, you’ve been having some downtime. Enjoy it. Why should you be tired?”

“I don’t know.”

I paused for a little. This was the furthest we’ve got in any conversation lately. I knew my next words would affect things for better or worse. “When you’re ready to tell me, tell me.”

I poured out my take-away onto a damp plate which I was beginning to go past eating now. She left and I felt terrible, I was trying to tread carefully. I wasn’t sure whether to probe further, and risk another argument, or back away and avoid it. I think I handled it neutrally.

I pushed my dinner around the plate.

It was then that I heard a smash from the bathroom. I ran in to find Michelle standing on the green rug with the windowsill mirror smashed to shards around her feet. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“It was an accident. I’m fine.” She laughed, “It just slipped from my hands, I was putting cream on and went to lift it.”

I doubted her. I didn’t believe her. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t. “Come on,” I lifted her hands high up as if to get her to tip-toe out, “I’ll clean that up.”

“I’m so stupid…”

“Don’t say that, it was an accident.”

We stood in the hall. I held both her upper arms, I felt so strong and she looked so small. It felt wrong so I loosened up. “Michelle, you’d tell me if anything was the matter with you?”

“Of course.”

She went in to the bedroom and I heard the light go off as I went back into the kitchen.

I picked up the pieces of broken mirror and swept the rest up. Great, the bathroom of all places too—where you walk around barefoot most… Jack, now’s not the time. I did as good a job I could. And when I left I noticed all Michelle’s pots of cream were unopened. I stood looking at them for a second and shook out whatever bad thoughts I had in my head. I ate what I could of my Chinese, fed Merrick our cat, did the dishes and slept on the sofa for the first time in three years. I think I went unconscious from sheer tiredness instead of really wanting to.

 

The cave was exactly like I left it. I shut the door behind me and dropped my bag off. It fell with multiple thuds—I brought a lot of books this time.

I scooped up a glass of water from the font by the countertop only to stand on something that cracked, broken shards of mirror. That was odd, I don’t have a mirror in here. I picked them up and threw them out the door into the infinite vastness.

The books were exactly what I wanted up here. A mixture of coffee-table types, a Japanese pillow-book diary, a compendium of fantasy fiction, the size of small encyclopaedias and some books about the universe and space.

I brought enough fruit and vegetables in the bag to feed me for a few days, some fresh coffee with a nutty aroma and half a small factory’s worth of chocolate.

I put everything away into the cupboard of the prep-counter, the books on their shelf above the bed and rolled up the bag at the foot of the bed, next to the pan.

The cave was beginning to fill with that familiar comforting glow. I looked out into the forest and noticed the sun setting. Perfect, the deer would be out. In the foreground and this height, the deer are in perfect view. The stream where they usually come out to is their usual jaunt.

I pulled around the sofa and kicked off my shoes to get a good view. I grabbed my sketch pad and pencils and started drawing—quick sketches to begin with as they would disappear soon when the sun goes down.

Making a few jagged zig-zags for antlers I looked up and out and noticed it, the tiny timid musk deer. He was shy, as always, but seemed more cautious today making his way to the water’s edge. He continued looking in the direction of the stags so as not to make himself known.

I watched the stags, they raised their heads from the water. They looked at each other knowingly, and around themselves, as if, for something to happen. I looked back at the musk deer, he took another cautious sup and then from out of nowhere the smallest of the herd of red deer made a run for him. The musk deer shot off but not before the tines of the red deer’s antlers pierced the musk deer in it’s hind leg.

I couldn’t believe it, and I was stunned. The red deer are usually territorial but never aggressive. They’ve never attacked the musk deer before, usually they shoo him away.

I got up and found myself pressing against the window. I was annoyed for the little guy and hoped he’d be alright with his injury. I made a pot of coffee and inhaled the bitter, cool and nutty smell. It was so refreshing and inviting…

 

“Jack, it’s time for work, I made some coffee.” Michelle hurried about the kitchen. It was morning and I was awake.

Lush

“Here mister, can you eat this stuff?” “Is it cheese?” “Is this real ice?”

Three questions that sum up my experience working for Lush. Mind you, they’re not the only three questions, but time and time again I find customers are still asking these.

If you’ve read Personal Odour before, you might know I’m a bit of a Lush fan boy. I started work in the Belfast store about three/four years ago as a Sales Assistant whilst at Uni. I took a bit of a career break last year to exercise that degree and post-grad in web design I studied for. Now I’m back in my store as a Christmas temp where it all started and couldn’t be happier.

Lush beginnings

I didn’t “get” Lush the first time I went in as a customer. I was buying a birthday present for my sister at the time. I too asked what this “stuff” was. I settled on Honey Farm gift hoping she’d like the honey products inside. My flatmate at the time raved on and on about it, so my curiosity led me in a second time and I bought a Sakura bath bomb having no real idea why I bought it—it just smelled nice (FYI mimosa and jasmine). I went straight home, ran an afternoon bath *plop *fizz* fizz* oh it was exciting. Never before had I a bath like it. How is it fizzing? Why is it fizzing? The smell… Then, as briefly as Lush came into my life, it left again. Never to return till a few years later when I left an awful job elsewhere and started in-store as Christmas temp.

Four years have passed and I’ve since come to love Lush passionately and much of what I write about on Personal Odour wouldn’t exist without my stint there and all the people I’ve met throughout the company. I wouldn’t have a deep appreciation for my sense of smell. I wouldn’t use my sense of smell as feverishly as I do, even though I’ve been on a bit of a break lately. Nor would I have come to love perfume in the way that I do today.

Smell learning

The other day I was walking a customer through the Gorilla Perfume range. I was apprehensive as I was feeling a little rusty being somewhat new again to being on the shop floor. She also told me she was a perfume fan so I was preparing for a challenge.

She asked for something strong, rich smelling and long lasting. I immediately thought of Lust and Breath of God. Lust was sprayed onto a tester card and her reaction reinforced the idea that perfume is intensely personal, surprising and shocking, “WHAT IS THAT? Oh no no no. That smells like Jeyes Fluid.” I presented it to her husband, “Yes, it’s like strawberries isn’t it.”

There you have it, Jeyes Fluid and strawberries. You can’t really get more polarized reactions than that. Whilst I laughed as much as they did, when I introduced Breath of God to her she was quick to take a moments silence but again had a strong reaction, “Incredible. That’s gorgeous, really different.” The husband agreed and they bought a sample set to try them all out.

What I’m getting at is that, having been placed in a position to talk perfume, and describe it, walk customers through it, I begin to learn more and more about smell. Something as carnal and pleasant to me, the overt jasmine note of Lust, can smell absolutely medicinal and dare I say, sterile to someone else. I suppose, I knew this all along, but the idea is reinforced when you’re confronted with it face-to-face.

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What do you think?

Ever had a run in with polarized smell reactions? What do you think of Lush actually?