Dear Thierry Mugler, Get behind me and stop tempting me, please.
These are my Muglers, currently. Poorly posed and photographed but there you are. Angel, Innocent, Alien eau de parfum and Alien body creme. These form the foundation, the cornerstone, the frakking hearth and home of the fragrance line. These fragrances are like having Maldini, Nesta and Costacurta and Stam in their prime as your back four. We’re good, we’re ready for anything so keep your subs on the bench.
I’m not in love with Alien Sunessence and it’s umpteen “essence” siblings or the many Garden of Stars flowery Angels. I am, however, coveting these below desperately.
I love me a good gourmand. I’m no perfumista or nose and I can’t identify a variety of notes or speak too intelligently about drydowns and accents. I can tell you that I love jasmine, amber and vanilla. I can tell you that I find well done synthetics appealing. I can tell you the scent story or image a fragrance conjures up for me and how the fragrance itself makes me feel. Alien is cool and deep and dark as space itself. When I wear it I feel deliciously set apart and mysterious as though I knew special secrets. For me, Alien is the story of a pioneering space station translated into scent. Even if in space no one can smell you.
So, I am aching for these variations. Look at the gorgeous dark, rich juice! Look at the beautiful bottles! I want to smell like salted butter caramel and orange blossom, dried fruits and white amber. It’s not likely to happen in this economic climate but tomorrow is another day and a woman can dream.
Fragrance often brings on a ‘Jake Sisko and the tube grubs moment,’ or, ‘you liked it fine when you didn’t know what it was.’ Fans of Deep Space 9 might remember the time Captain Sisko invited Nog, his son’s best friend and the first Ferengi to attend Starfleet Academy, to dinner. Captain Sisko appreciated the effort Nog was putting in to adapt to human ways and thought it would be nice welcome him home with a familiar meal. The Ferengi eat insects. Nog’s favourite human food was squid. Voila, squid in tube grub sauce! A match made in interstellar, Ferengi-Human fusion heaven, yes? Jake’s nose was happily and deeply in the dinner trough until Captain Sisko mentioned the tube grub sauce. Cue noisy and dramatic spitting into a napkin as naming a thing made it suddenly horrible. I do understand the feeling. When I was a kid a cousin told me that corned beef was actually horse meat. I loved corned beef but I went off it for years. Cows certainly are no less deserving of a long and peaceful life than horses are but you can’t expect logic from an eight year old brought up on horse and pony stories for girls.
I can’t tell you how many times an acquaintance has complimented a fragrance I’m wearing only to pull a Jake and the tube grubs face once I tell them the name. Here are a few of the comments my perfume choices have garnered over the years.
Anais Anais or Samsara or Chanel No. 5: Oh, isn’t that an old perfume? * said with a wrinkled nose * No, it’s a classic and bloody timeless, thank you very much.
Luctor et Emergo or Zagorsk: I don’t wear anything I can’t pronounce. * I kid you not, word for word.
Poupee: Ewww, you mean like poop?
Jungle L’Elephant: Soooo, it smells like an elephant? * because elephants do usually smell of licorice, cardamom, ylang ylang and patchouli. And you just complimented me on my fragrance.
Alien: You could never be normal! * said with a shaken head *
And thank goodness for that, says I!