” The door opened without warning.
The light from the hall chandelier accented his finely tailored suit.
‘Pardon me’.
His blue eyes were set deep in a chiseled face.
‘But we seem to have been given the same hotel suite.’
He held out a room key in his open palm.
‘Unfortunately.’
His expression recovered into a warm smile.
‘I’m afraid it’s a mistake’.
The suit has lucked out. He has opened the door onto a beautiful woman mid-pose, apparently about to stonk off, unnominated, to the Golden Globes.
With Weinsteinian wiles, The Chisel senses the sinuously spiced Gucci No 3 floating on the air before he realizes that the visuals before him match up to the advertising.
What will happen next?
Will she flamenco towards him ?
Will he step back, or inside ?
Will they tryst?
Looks like he closed the door behind him after all. They Mills & Booned all through the night, the arched tan of his muscular back; the toned curves of her La Perla.
By dawn they were married; they strolled the beach, still in their regalia, tufts of Gucci 3 enfoldened in his chin cleft.
But would a generic 80’s aldehyde/chypre/ aromatic by Firmenich (she didn’t even know who had authored the fragrance ! and would not find out until the age of 95, Alexandre long having passed in a terrible St Tropez accident involving seven water gliders and a stray catamaran, his beautiful body churned through foaming motors when sleuthing Fragrantica’ one day at her assisted living facility in San Marino that the perfumer of her all time favourite was Alberto Morillas)— —would this crisp, fresh sportive patchouli a la mousse de chene- sexy, no doubt, but did it really say anything, ultimately be enough to sustain his interest for an entire lifetime ?
“He had never been late before.
Could it be he was not coming?
She felt the beginning of panic tighten in her stomach.
Maybe something had happened to him? The road was narrow.
With an effort she forced the thought out of her mind.
Here I am, a grown woman, acting like an adolescent school girl.
‘It’s silly,’ she told herself.
But she knew she couldn’t stop “.
*
Right from the start when we look at this retrogressive dribble from the mid-80’swe realize that Gucci No 3, a perfume I had never even heard of until we found a pristine perfect bottle of edt in a Kamakura antique shop by the rail tracks (the very well to do, tastefully soigneed Japanese owner turns a blind eye when I smell test something – it probably also didn’t hurt that d was buying a framed etching at the time ) —- is going to lack a certain… true grit and definability.
It is not Fendi. It is not L’Arte. It is not Scherrer, Farouche, Givenchy III or any other of the self-contained chypres that couldn’t really be anything other than what they are – but it still smelled magnificent from the bottle and there was no way I was going home without it ( I have already used up about a fifth).
I suppose I am the kind of perfumophile who knows everything in one sniff. Of there can be surprises in the unfolding of a scentstory, notes and accords you might not have anticipated, but generally with one full bodied inhalation I can give a straightforward yes or no.
Gucci No 3, despite its lack of clear messaging, was a spontaneous yes. I felt the full power of a classically mossed patchouli rose chypre, but also a stringently fresh opening of very white marbled soap aldehydes, green leaves and coriander over luminous narcissus. I thought of D’s mother Daphne straight away, who would be all over this in a jiffy ; I also thought ooh this is one I reckon I can really pull off. The aldehydic luminosity at the beginning is very bright laundered sun ; new white shirt / blouse (it is very androgynous); very soapy and verdant until the end when it becomes a bit Ungaro Diva and I think ok, Daphne – you need this after all.
*
This time last year, D’s brother’s family came for a three week trip in Japan.
Andrew and Louise had been before on their honeymoon, but this was the first time bringing their four kids, who were wide-eyed with excited curiosity at every turn. They did a full tour, but we met up in Tokyo, for a fantastic karaoke session in Yokohama, took them around Kamakura, and a big party at our house with some Japanese and foreign friends and neighbours – in the end there were about thirty people going up and down the stairs and meandering about on a very hot August evening but it was a memorable night. Our Japanese mother, Mrs Mitomi sat in the middle of the tatami mat in our bedroom with red wine surrounded by bright-eyed adolescents as they spun records by Sun Ra, Primal Scream, Tyler The Creator and Echo & The Bunnymen – with all the fairy lights we had strung everywhere and the guests bemused by our raggedy collection of objets and abnormal exotica, it felt like some real psychedelic 60’s bohemiana – exactly as we hoped it would.
The kids ate all pretty scenthused, with their own collections I have gone through when we have stayed at their big thatched barn in the Norfolk countryside. Daphne, a true perfume lover, has been a great influence in this regard – they love her love of deep, chypric spiced patchouli roses – the Greek Cypriot side of their lineage coming through ( last time we met D’s parents at Norwich she was as glamorous as Maria Callas with scentage to boot (probably a layering of Montale Aoud Flowers and Santa Maria Novella Patchouli – two holy grails) – and when I told the young visitors that they could each take something home from my collection (with the exception of my huge vintage Shalimar, Vol De Nuit and L’Heure Bleue, nothing was off the table in my Mad Uncle Moment which had me clutching and biting at my black pearls in nervous anticipation once I had said it) – they loved the challenge and went off for a competitive sniffing contest laced with a little sibling competitive rivalry.
I also presented things I thought they’d like.
“It’s okay, “, Ruby, the youngest would say; or “it’s quite nice….. but it’s not the one”.
The boys were the easiest.
Charlie, the second son and by far the most mischievous and humorous, went pretty immediately for my first or second suggestion, a bottle of Escentric Molecules 01 Iris? won over by the idea that the girls would definitely go for something modern and enigmatic as long as he didn’t pull the trigger too often. I warned him that this kind of perfume can quickly fill up a whole building : it is designed to shift and shape around you in varying angles; there one minute; gone the next; coming back round again through the garden and the back door before you realize it but this only made him want it even more.
“Yeah I really like this”.
It became the inescapable backtrack to the rest of the holiday.
I was impressed by Edward’s surety.
” This is quite nice” he said, proffering Argentinian brand Frassai’s A Fuego Lento – a sambac jasmine suede I was partial to (ouch!) even if ultimately the base wasn’t 100% right on me. I was impressed by the fact that none of them were bothered by masculine / feminine cliches and just went for what they like : this is very floral – if gentle – and apparently his girlfriend loves it on him -so I chalked this up as another success.
The girls were far more selective and really took their time. All the kids kept saying “oh wow I love this it smells like nanny Daphne (Parure, Karl Lagerfeld, Cerruti, – even though she hasn’t work any of these but it is the patchouli – with musks and mosses and spices they are identifying and now have a natural affinity with). When Edward came back to stay with his rugby mates six months later he intuitively gravitated towards the stunning bottle of Guy Laroche ‘J’Ai Ose exclaiming ” wow what beautiful smell ” totally unselfconsciously and not realizing that it is a dead ringer for Yves Saint Laurent Opium – a Daphne classic.
Both girls were drawn to the Daphne-esque in the collection, which is why Olivia eventually went for Shiseido Koto – a watery narcissus galbanum chypre not dissimilar to the Gucci no 3 – perhaps just a little more limpid; she also fell in love with the most perfect Lanvin Arpege little extrait that d had given me ; I hesitated, but then realized that Arpege is bound to reappear at some flea market or other, and the mere idea of such a fairy like girl, so otherworldly at times, always chic, wearing the gorgeous Lanvin at her new job in architecture in exquisite contrast to so many of the vulgar perfumes inevitably surrounding her made me happily close the shiny black bottle in the palm of her hand.
Meanwhile, the party was getting raucous; I couldn’t even get up or down the stairs to see what was going on. Ruby, still on a quiet, determined mission in her librarian glasses to find the perfect perfume, would take up drinks to people and report back on proceedings, who had food and who still hadn’t ( a few too many bottles of prosecco had been consumed at this point and D’s Greek platters were getting later and later – hilariously chaotic).
The youngest and perhaps most thoughtful of the children was still deciding on her options, whittling them down to a few choices she would then present to me as possibilities.
Not long before they all had to leave – it had been a really great evening, they really got to see where and how we live and interact with ‘the locals’; I did an impromptu piano / singing concert upstairs – just like you would decades ago with extended family members at Christmas parties – Ruby had finally made her choice.
” I think I would like this one” she said.
It was a Nina Ricci L’Air Du Temps; unusually perfect ( the most perfect I have ever smelled, very clove/carnationy airy and alive with vivacious particles of light – amazing given that it is a spray, in a dove- encrusted white Bakelite bottle that d had found for me somewhere), impossible for me to wear – the animal femaleness of the final notes just do not smell right on me – but I did love sometimes smelling it.
But on little Ruby? My goodness. Celestial perfection. Encircling the air around her like the olive branched birds, she smelled like an actual angel. She happily put the perfume in her bag, we all hugged goodbye, and d took them down past all the temples on the hill and the station – and back to the place they were staying in Kamakura.
*
What struck me as so wonderful about all of this, aside from getting to know each other a lot better – often we only have fleeting, flying visits to family and friends in the UK out of necessity – was the combination of individual taste, inclination and preference when it came to fragrance – I did give a few pointers, some of them summarily dismissed, which impressed me – but also the way in which as children we are influenced – sometimes unconsciously – by the smells and the perfumes around us. They become comforting ( probably why I am so drawn to the classical floral aldehydics like Nina), my mother’s choice. D’s nieces and nephews have grown up with the scent of chypres – Daphne’s ultimate is Magie Noire – they are now part of their DNA.
They can also – move away from the horrendous cliches of the times when some of these masterpieces were released; recontextualize them into something more interesting; no corny crap about chiselled chins and mistakenly chancing upon a ridiculous frozen woman frozen in a hotel room or fretting over her boyfriend being a few minutes late as though she had no agency of her own. Edward smells splendid in his South East Asian jasmine; Charlie in his powdered but super suave iris; Olivia in her mossed calming beauty; Ruby in her angelic carnations.
As for Gucci III, I also decontextualize it completely and am not planning on waiting around in some hotel room for Mr Lantern Jaw to come barging in and ravage me in my ruffles. I do really like it, actually- and it can be found quite cheaply – Hanamini you might want to give it a try as a daily green : while it might lack that definite je ne sais quoi – that anonymity in itself can also make it rather unplaceable – in itself a nostalgic, but not too obvious, pleasing choice. At the end, though – and I knew this the second I smelled it – this perfume is destined for one person only.
I let Duncan smell it as the lady was wrapping up his picture.
“Who do you think would love this?”
He didn’t need to say anything.
Daphne, this one’s for you.
To think that advertising really was like that! You have made me laugh, thank you.
You are the perfume godmother! How generous you were to the young ones, and how gratifying for you to see their joy. Hah! The platters! My brother-in-law is Greek Cypriot, and we were eating his amazing food only a week ago, including nibbles and mezze on platters.
I realise I don’t know No 3, although I went through an intense phase of wearing No 1 and Eau de Gucci. Finally got tired of the No 1 (a more interesting L’Air du Temps) turning halfway through every bottle, even though I was using them rapidly. I think I would definitely like No 3.
A lovely family.
Yes – and thank you – we had a really lovely time together.
I agree that Gucci no 1 is rather nice and as you say like L’Air Du Temps with a slight extra preachiness – but a bit namby pamby in some way.
I love Eau De Gucci Concentree as a kind of strait-laced Anais Anais in an air stewardess uniform – the lily note is fantastic and I wore it the other day actually.
No 3 is generic, i suppose , but also REALLY good. The Fragrantica reviews are mainly raves.
What unbelievable advertising though – embarrassing to read. You can’t even blame AI. Someone sat down in an office somewhere and typed that crap out !
Making me laugh again – Anais Anais in an air stewardess uniform …. absolutely! My sister was cabin crew and she did wear it!
We have come a long way since the 80s, thank goodness, although I would like to see the return of some of the powerhouse perfumes of that era as I am tired of diluted candy gloss and laundry musk (which I actually don’t wear).
Hadn’t even noticed any typos, just want to read the content. You are amazing to be able to write anything at all in the circumstances.
It helps me to get through it and take me out of here !
Ps In case any readers think I have become illiterate – I am aware of word omissions / typos / crazy punctuation but am tapping these posts with one finger and crap reception in the hospital ; want to edit but can’t so put things up anyway rather than lose them
Anyone else know Gucci No 3?
Yes, I have a small, vintage 7.5 ml bottle of the pure parfum. It fits with in the category of all those you chypres you listed from roughly the same period. I don’t wear it often because have to be in the mood for floral chypres with a prominent rose note. But when I am in the mood for it, it’s wonderful.
I would love to try the parfum! On the other hand I am very taken by the fresh top notes in this one which must surely be more prominent in the edt?
I am the same as you. These chypres could never work for me on a regular basis but when I crave them I REALLY crave them and am very glad they are there.
This is a wonderful perfume story! You should save it for your next book, you know, the one I keep telling you to write that’s a collection of stories about perfume and your life. I honestly think you already have enough in your archives for a rough draft.
You are not the first person to say that our tastes in perfume are influenced by what we were exposed to in our early years, especially what our mothers wore. That isn’t true for me. My mother wore Shocking in my early childhood and I can’t abide the smell of civet. However, I recently wrote something about where my passion for the smell of mimosa came from that you might enjoy https://delusiastic.blogspot.com/2025/04/the-golden-scent-of-golden-afternoons.html
Ooh I will check it out and have a mimosa reverie one day when the mood is right. Thanks
I HATE Shocking and Tabu and know exactly what you are talking about.
Mothers In Mimosa – now you’re talking
Fell out of my high poster boatbed!!!
You come home with a vengeance indeed!! Like a lion.
Still recovering. Loved your pastiche Harlequin soapy erotic verbal perfume wanderings…
And the telling of your familiar tales takes me up close and personal. After the loss of Wendela my skin has not grown over yet and my spiritual balance is rickety. Your words and images, always connected, went right to the heart. Thank you cher monsieur Ginzaintherain. I am starting to wear perfumes again. My very own fragrance route. Thank you for this very warm and rightly sentimental fragrance extravaganza!
Hi N
Glad this one worked for you – it was a bit overly ambitious and then WordPress locked and I couldn’t check or change anything but sometimes imperfection and total spontaneity bring their own rewards !
It must be very hard for you re: W. It is there on my mind. But very glad to hear that you are venturing forth a little – what perfumes have you worn if I may ask? Sometimes even just a dot of something can colorize the greyness..
The doling out of perfumes to the nieces and nephews was something I was meaning to write about at the time but then a year went by and I had forgotten all about it. Hospital is the ideal time to catch up on such ideas even if if I am not careful with all this one finger tapping on my phone I am going to end up with tendonitis
super cute post! so happy that each child found their perfect scent. something i hope i can share one day with my very own. l’air du temps is such a lovely choice for a little girl. this post reminds to grab my bottle & give myself a few dabs of it on my wrists. thanks for sharing the sweet anecdotes~
My pleasure
It was a wonderful time we had together and I wanted to share it. Scary for a perfume collector when secretly you want to keep everything, but lovely to see how thrilled the kids were : probably quite a unique experience for them !
What a lovely account of your family visit, and how sweet that you could share your collection in this way. I’ve been holding perfume smelling sessions with my own kids over the years but the problem is that they don’t really want to smell like their mum at this point, and everything to them, even if varied, smells like me. But boy, did you hit the nail on the head with Rogue’s Vetiver. I covered myself in that today for early evening drinks in a friend’s garden. It was perfect. And still shocking how similar it is to Weil de Weil (my own mother). So thank you, I will be trying Gucci No 3. I was in Harrods’ fragrance hall yesterday afternoon, just because I was in the area, looking for a perfect rose to complement the ones that I’ve been potting in my garden, as if I were a gardener (against all expectations, they’re blooming). That’s not something I’m in a hurry to repeat; what a stressful and harried experience. The price of already unaffordable Frederic Malle Dawn has gone up £300 in the past few years. But I did take a deep draught. For my search I’ll be going somewhere calmer. And reading your old columns. Still thinking about Lutens’ Sa Majesté La Rose. Hope your recovery is going well.
I have never smelled Malle’s Dawn. How is it ?
The vintage Sa Majeste is … a bit of an EFFORT. But also unique. You have made me miss it !
Dawn is opulent, greasy, high with whatever hopeful and airborne substance was in Amouage’s Homage that I loved in its combination with rose (oakmoss or something else?); I think of yellow and brown intricate patterns in the sky. I’m useless at describing the things I like and have to resort to cliches. It’s the only one of that series I’d wear. Is Sa Majesté an effort? I have the perfect rose – several of them now – in my garden, but wanting to wear them. A bit concerned about longevity for the Lutens; I bought a bell jar of La Myrrhe, and although it’s unlike anything else and so potent to start with (a top 5, or 10 at least, for me), it’s surprisingly quick to vanish.
No ! You have turned into a PPQ ! ( Projection / Performance Queen ?!)
Who are you and what have you done with Hanamini ?
No but seriously I would never buy a Lutens reformulation
The original was vivid AF – green – and was it lychee ? I would be furious at an attenuation
Loved this! Your description of how the kids found their scents is just wonderful. Speaking of Arpège, our city’s fashion museum has had a show of Jeanne Lanvin’s couture — so glamorous! Dozens of original garments and sketches and, of course, a display about Arpège. I hope you are recovering well!
I would be if a virulent candida rash that was festering in my armpit prior to coming in – and which I TOLD them about – but which was misdiagnosed by the local quack who prescribed steroid / antibiotic cream which really exacerbated it – hadn’t spread down my back and onto the wound area.
Lots of stress – but HOPEFULLY under control. Just call me Aunty Mushroom.
Probably why I was yearning for a positive and uplifting piece of writing!
That’s so frustrating! Hang in there!
I will !
And thank you
Had the same complaint under my armpit for weeks. Mushrooms, toadstools!!, came to my mind as well. For me the antibiotics worked finally!! A vivid imagination can be a curse as well as a blessing in disguise. Sleeves, wraps, no more frivolous decolletés, unless mesh/gauze-covered. Miss Havisham 2025! I watched Farmer seeks Wife and did not turn a hair!! Pure Science Fiction. Is over now. Back to normal.
Courage and Steadfastness and an occasional Diva Fit of the heebiejeebies.. all that helps and gives relief.
I LOVE this
Glad you now have a forest clearing though
I got myself some Gucci No3 parfum, based on the notes you described. Very nice indeed. The first thing it reminded me of was my Weil Antilope, but brighter; the second thing that came to mind was Lutens Eau de Citronnier, used for years at work. I may be in need of coffee beans here, for the nose and the head, but this is up my street; I’d have to be polished to wear it, and have it in my handbag.
Fantastic. You have got me thirsting for the extrait!
It’s nice, right ? Not deep poetry – but pleasing prose – and yes, perfect for a chic last minute dot