Forgive me if scroll away from the news for a moment and go back in time.
The other day I mentioned we had dinner at Justin and Setsuko’s, friends of ours for over thirty years (he and I used to teach together in London back in the early 90’s and was instrumental in persuading me to come here; my Japanese students sensed something in me and urged me to give Nihon a try (how did they know?) and by chance they now live just under an hour away near Yokohama Sea Paradise. After our Chant D’Arômes conversation, in which I said I would decant Setsuko some of that delectable sixties chypre we both treasure, and pleasedly receiving a bottle of very old Chanel Nº5 Eau De Cologne that her mother had never used – so cold and fur-coaty and different to the current versions, I must write about it some time- I got a message her the next day with a photo, asking whether I would also like another perfume she had come across at her mother’s place (she has just been moved into a care facility nearby) and which she didn’t need. It was Cerruti. And the coincidence was so strange; serendipitous. A familiar story to you, with my regular slippages, but I had noticed a rich, womanly 80’s scent coming from somewhere – was it my Elizabeth Arden Red Door rare extrait that had somehow slipped out of its box – we all know how accident prone the collection is – but, no it wasn’t quite the same; the same era, for sure; that decade’s glam and insouciance and ignorance but also the upbeatness that pervaded almost all of perfumery; spiced nectars drenched in tuberose and tropical fruits and orange blossoms and sweet musky bases the order of the day, and though so many of them at times almost merge into one – there were a lot of ‘also rans’, which is the topic of today, those scents that never quite made it; the Tiffany/s and Stacy Qs, not the the Madonnas and Cyndi Laupers that continue on in one form or another just like the bastions of eighties extant perfumery – Poison; Obsession; Beautiful; other forgotten perfumes like Cerruti, Guy Laroche’s plummy Clandestine and Ted Lapidus’ Creation have faded into obscurity, now hunted down only by the otaku on Fragrantica like myself and those souls who somehow discovered these lesser perfumes back in the day when they were kids and still cling onto them sentimentally as plumed fountains of lost youth.
It was such a bizarre coincidence though that the very scent I had been smelling in my sleep – Cerruti – and ruefully awoken to find almost emptied for whatever clumsy reason in the chaos that is my life – then realizing that the composition wasn’t quite as reductive as I thought; fuller, more nuanced – it was only a miniature but the bottle itself is so intriguing that I could see myself dabbing it on when in 80’s pop culture reverie and I was sad to see it gone – was the very perfume in question.Ha! Up pops a proper size bottle of Cerruti not much used — the very next day. What are the odds?
I am a child of the 70’s but a teenager of the 80’s. The fragrances of the Seventies were more elegant and refined, or else louche and scuzzy : the Eighties were more fun. Vibrant. Bold and brassy; saturated in colour, not nuance, and French je ne sais pourquoi. They were like giant flagships, unmistakeable (at least the Greatest Hits were; you couldn’t mistake Obsession for Loulou, nor Beautiful for Eternity; distinct to the max, these monuments had been developed for years and years in secrecy but with such artistry, precision and crowd testing that they had reached climactic perfection and were irresistible commercially); a new release in the eighties by one of the main Houses was a very big deal. Dior only released one women’s perfume in the entire decade; Poison, and it is utterly unforgettable (D got me a vintage bottle for my birthday…..I smell absurd in it; but Burning Bush can pull it off pretty well; I do enjoy just inhaling it, though, and remembering friends’ bedrooms and bathrooms and dancing to Jack Your Body in the dark: it’s just so noxious, but in a brilliant way, and nothing else smells remotely like it, even if the tuberose/spiced/fruit/musk/vanilla melody had been placed firmly in the public’s consciousness with the clamoring Dior release and took years to melt away; the legacy continuing with sexy, but inferior, hair-sprayed dressing room impostors who could never quite make their mark on you in the same way.
There were several noticeable trends back then. Patchouli was dead. Dirty musk was dead. There was no citrus (for women); if you wanted fresh and delicate in a new release back then, good luck to you (it would have been necessary to rely on one’s Ô de Lancome, Eau De Rochas, Diorella etc originally from many years before it you wanted to maintain that kind of image).
No. The domination of Opium and Cinnabar in the late 70’s had created a veritable spicebomb that continued reverberating into the eighties with Lagerfeld, Fendi, Ungaro Diva, Gucci L’ Arte et al, perhaps, most notably, top chart hit Coco De Chanel (a great little perfume, especially in extrait), while the dark mistresses of chypric leather in the ultimate conjuress form of Magie Noire led us eventually to Paloma Picasso Mon Parfum – an absolute eighties classic and unimprovable – although the mode in general in the fashion was gearing up towards brighter, more defiantly optimistic roses in the hands of Sophia Grosjman and her astonishing triad of iconoclasts; Beautiful, Eternity, and YSL Paris —-which threw a rose violet hand grenade into the stuffiness of all prior proceedings, dazzling lucently like a nest of fake diamonds. Earlier eighties roses had actually been more demure – Ombre Rose, the beautiful Armani Pour Femme I featured the other day being a perfect example, while past the 85 mark, as in pop music, things were Reaganized up into trumpeting regalia and Dallas/Dynasty levels of saturated ruched seduction; Givenchy Ysatis (amazing!) Giorgio, good heavens Samsara – things were definitely not subtle.
But look at the time.
I have to go to work.
To be continued …
(to actually be continued)
Thank, o thank you for a veritable dazzling aubade of perfume.
Good counter balance for the infernal intestines who play havoc with my structure of daily living!!
my thoughts precisely – needed a temporary refuge !
I love these happy scampers of yours down memory lane, dear Neil. You were a child of the 70’s and a teenager of the 80’s while it was 60’s and 70’s, respectively, for me, but you really have a handle on all the major decades of fragrance and you feel like a contemporary. I remember all the names you mention and I’ve owned almost all of them, either when they were released or after finding them much later in consignment and thrift shops.
Lately, maybe because I’m getting older and naturally more nostalgic, and maybe because the world seems to be less and less recognizable or likeable these days, going back to those times feels especially good. And because, like you, I have quite a number of old bottles of this and that, I can relive those old feelings frequently. Wearing them seems more satisfying and comforting than ever. I was going to say reassuring, but I don’t know if there’s a fragrance I own that will make me feel entirely optimistic about the future. I guess satisfaction and comfort will have to do for now.
The future is fucked – or at least for the forseeable half decade.
We must stick together and find comfort in all the good things – like these scent portals
P.S. I wore Poison edp on my wedding day in 1987.
my mouth just dropped open
like Robin I was a teenager in the 1970s (from 1957) and then smelled still authentic No5, No19, Fidji, Miss Dior, Shalimar, Mitsouko, Ivoire. but my decade started with Giorgio (24 years old) and resp Obsession, Poison, Coco, Moschino Pdt, Red, all the les Hooquereuses of the 1980s. and from there on, further. it had to be loud, obnoxious, vulgar and chic.
Red : I am planning a review of it – LOVE
‘Giorgio Beverly Hills Red’ 1989 eye have severely stocked up upon around the 1990s-2000.