Two weeks ago saw the end of my favourite bottle of perfume. It was an end both natural and unnatural, in that it ran out but also happened to fall into the hand basin and smash into indelicate shards. So that was that then – time to get a new scent.
I remember when I was fifteen my mother arranged some private tutoring for me and my sister. My sister was to get help with her Maths and I was to get help with my Irish (a complete waste of time, I thought, but still). And the tutor she found was an unbearably attractive 22-year old from Listowel with flowing strawberry blonde hair, a creaky old Citroën 2CV and the most captivating violet scent.
I was smitten immediately. I sat beside her and just drank in her aroma, nodding at the right places and trying in my fifteen-year-old manner to be charming while she teased out my Irish grammar. And when it was my sister’s turn, I would be moved to the bedroom of the small house where her scent hung in the air, soaked into me and melted my unformed little heart.
That was the first time I really understood the whole concept of “woman”. And these days a white 2CV can still make me shiver, and when I catch that violet scent from some passing female my heart tries to climb right out of my body.
My Irish, understandably enough, didn’t improve one bit.
And then I remember my first big crush on a female of my own age. She wore white musk, and that smell alone could flatten me on the sofa with an aching heart for half a day. She left a scarf in my possession one time, and I must admit to sniffing it with painful sighs and even sleeping with the thing under my pillow.
So scents are immensely powerful, charging right into those dusty depths of our minds and dragging out long filed-away memories. And the “signature” scent of a cherished person is as much a drug as their skin, voice or touch.
So anyway it was time to get a new man perfume. And after a frantic help session on Facebook, aimed mostly at the people most qualified to judge these things (women), some web research provided me with a short-list, which was the following:
- Kenzo – Air
- Van Gils – Tendenza
- Gucci – Pour Homme
- Guy Laroche – Drakkar noir
- Van Gils – Basic Instinct
- Marco Polo – Pure Green
- Diesel – Fuel For Life Pour Homme
- Boss – In Motion
A long session of discreet sniffing in a few of Stockholm’s perfumeries gave me the eventual winner, which was – wait for it; the card please Mr Crystal – Basic Instinct from Van Gils! And I must say, I am very happy with it.
Now all that remains is to get a young female student or two of my own to tutor in order to imprint them and gets their hearts fluttering whenever, in the years to come, they happen to catch my scent or hear a snatch of “Danny Boy”.
No, wait, hang on, I’ll have to remove that last part, it’s just way way too pervy…