Would you buy a perfume with this name? ‘Universal water’?
I used to get excited whenever I went into the L’Occitane shop. Sixteen years ago, when the brand had not become the great high street empire it has today, there was an element of mystique. The perfumes, often in delightful extrait miniatures, were of really high quality, some quite unbelievably good, such as their original clove/violet Patchouli (there have been two other completely different versions since, which were no way near as adorable); their wonderful Santal, Bois de Rose, Cannelle Orange, and the indelibly sweet and luscious Vanille Bourbon.
Yesterday, in Tokyo, in the of-the-moment-for-snoots Marounochi building, I came up the escalators to be welcomed by the dreary smell of duty free lounges, posh toilets, and the soul-depleting odour of industrial citrus. This was Eau Universelle, a scent with no personality. A pleasing generic sherbet lemon to begin with, yes, doused in grapefruit, bergamot and alcohol, that for 10 microseconds you consider buying, because it is so HOT outside, and you know that in summer you just want LEMONS.
But not when they are backed with that crapoid, generic ‘woods’ note; that chemical, ugly sheen that scrubs up in the background.
Not when can you feel those ‘lemons’ sucking your life force.