I’ve changed my mind on perfumes before.
Just to name a few I went from disliking to loving, and my original perceptions of them: Ralph Lauren Safari (too sweet), Jacomo Silences (too screechy), Amouage Memoir Woman (weird enough to come out of some sorceress’s grimoire). And then there was Guerlain Mitsouko, which I tried and tried and didn’t get, and then I got it, and promptly decided I didn’t love it and need never try it again.
I’ll probably reverse myself at least once more at some point in the future. There was a guy who used to work for my father-in-law who would say, “Uh-oh, we’ve got this back’ards. Got to flip it a hunnerd degrees the other way.” He meant 180°, of course, but you had to speak Charlesish to translate.
I’ve flip-flopped, a hunnerd degrees different, lately. Y’all hold on to your seats, because this one startled me. I, like everybody else, have my preferences. I love rose and tuberose and narcissus, galbanum and aldehydes. I really hate balsamy orientals and I loathe patchouli in its earthy, dusty, cocoa-powder role; if it smells like Youth Dew, or God forbid, Opium, it is an abomination to me. Lavender gives me massive headaches. Indolic jasmine smells like soiled panties; the “clean” kind you find in, say, Jennifer Aniston‘s fragrance works my last freakin’ nerve, so jasmine soliflores are pretty much off the table.
I resniffed A La Nuit. And guess what happened? I liked it. It wasn’t poopy-diaper jasmine, or Ho Panties jasmine, or high-pitched squeaky-clean jasmine. It was just flowers. It made me relax enough to get sleepy, just from one hit.
So I wore it one evening. I still liked it. No poop, no panties, no screech. Instead, narcotic.
Huh. I’m hangin’ out with Jasmine the cool girl and we’re getting along just fine.
A Cautionary Tale: remember me and Chanel Cuir de Russie? I should have loved it. I like Chanel, I like aldehydes, I like floral leathers. In actuality, I hated it because it was such an odorealistic presentation of the cattle working pens here on the farm (iodine, rawhide, dust, dried manure, and fear). People kept telling me I was wrong, it was the softest pink leather imaginable, and one day, one day! it smelled like a perfect leather purse full of flowers, and that was wonderful. The next six times I tried it (differing concentrations/sources/weather), it was back to Virtual Working Pen, and I was back to hating it.
Here’s hoping I don’t start hating A La Nuit.
Jasmine. Who knew?