Scent Signals

These Chanel Ads Should be for Perfume

The first thing that caught my eye in the August Vanity Fair was this series of ads for Chanel. I love them. They are the first ads in a long time that have captured my interest and made me look for more than a second or two.

I love the subdued lighting and the colors - they look hand-tinted. The clothes, the wig and the makeup are fun, too. But what really strikes me is how perfect these images are for selling perfume.

I would buy any perfume worn by the woman Claudia Schiffer is portraying in these shots. I absolutely would. And I am not one to be so easily swayed by advertising.

But I love the fantasy these pictures tell. In my mind, she is in a pre-war apartment somewhere in Paris, Munich, or some other European city with style. In the first shot she is day-dreaming about her lover, about what they will do together. In the second shot, she is doing whatever it is they do together (what that is is up to you, the viewer). In the third shot, she is watching him leave the building, thinking, He deserves that glove.

All the way through, it feels as if she is in control of the situation. This is a woman in charge of her sexuality and her pleasure. If she's on her hands and knees, it's because she wants to be, not because someone is intimidating or using her.

She is a strong woman. A beautiful woman. A woman capable of getting and keeping any man she wants. A woman who lives life on her terms. A woman who loves passionately.

Who wouldn't want to be that woman? She must smell incredible. Sexy but not raunchy. Strong but not overpowering. Feminine but not girly. She must smell like a real woman. Interesting. Mesmerizing. Tantalizing. And deep.

The only thing is, I can't think of an existing Chanel perfume that perfectly fits my little fantasy about this photo fantasy.

I thought at first that Coco or Cuir de Russie might do, but no, they're not quite right. Some might suggest Coromandel or Allure, but no, not subtle enough. And although it crossed my mind that No. 22 and No. 31 might work in that twisted, madonna-whore way, I rejected those, too.

You know what this means don't you? This means Chanel needs to create a perfume to match Karl Lagerfeld's photographic vision. So, Messieurs Polge and Sheldrake, if you don't mind? Something warm and rich, seductive and unforgettable would be lovely. Something that puts me in mind of all the best vintage perfumes but is something I haven't smelled before. Something known and yet surprising.

I think Gabrielle Chanel would like the woman in Karl's photos, and would appreciate a perfume that complements her style. Maybe it's the dark bob, but the spirit of Chanel is somehow alive in these shots. Well done, M. Lagerfeld. Gentlemen, I await the perfume.

Thoughts on a Perfume Wardrobe - Plus a Perfume Drawing

"Let me tell you what your perfumes say about you. They say, 'Sophisticated, elegant, and quirky.'"

That's what my friend Reggie told me last week. Not surprisingly, that made me feel good. Like someone was actually paying attention and maybe even "getting" me.

Not that I am sophisticated or elegant (though I definitely am quirky), but I wouldn't mind being those things. So if my perfume wardrobe is sending those messages out into the world, so much the better. I'd rather my fragrances signal those qualities than "she's desperate, boring, and clueless!"

But you know, until Reggie said that, I hadn't considered the overall impression my perfume choices might be making on others. I've just been taking it one day at a time, wearing what feels right and good to me. I haven't been connecting the dots between one scent of the day and the next. And I certainly haven't been trying to create anything cohesive, scent-wise.

I have a perfume wardrobe, but I've built it intuitively, not by design. My perfume style ranges from Dzing! to Cachet, from Shalimar to Eau Sauvage, from Fracas to Miel de Bois, and from Intimate to Poison. Not sure that fully illustrates it, but trust me, I am all over the place with what I like to wear. Much more so in perfume than in clothes.

Yet somehow, as broad and as varied as my perfume wardrobe is, Reggie was able to sum it up in three words. So there must be a common thread that runs throughout my fragrance wardrobe, even though I haven't looked for one until now.

If I had to name to it, I'd say the thread is personality. I like perfumes with personality. They have to be able to hold their own in a conversation with my skin, without being abrasive, loud or ugly. And they must tell an interesting story. Even if it's full of lies, the story should be engaging and replete with twists and turns. I've learned that simple scent tales, even if they're very pretty, bore me.

In fact, as I begin to edit my perfume collection, this is what I will be looking for. The scents with the most interesting personalities, the ones that tell the juiciest stories, whisper the best promises, and coo the sweetest words of passion will stay. Those that fail to tell me a rip-roaring good tale (or dance seductively well on my skin) will go to new homes. Yes, you'd better be a clever little scent courtesan, or off with your pretty little perfumed head!

I'll be setting up a Sale/Swap Page in the weeks to come, but in the meantime, I'd like to give away one perfectly good perfume. It's something I wore years ago and replenished recently, only to find I was no longer enamored with it.

If you think a full 3.4 oz bottle of Cabotine de Grès would make a nice addition to your perfume wardrobe, just leave me a comment. (Cabotine is a pretty, fresh green floral, perfect for summertime, for those who don't know it.) Don't worry if your comment doesn't show up right away, it will as soon as I approve it (which could take a few hours). I'll keep this drawing open through Friday, draw a name over the weekend, and announce the lucky winner next Monday, July 21st.

I hate to exclude readers living outside the U.S., but my post office is already acting hinky about sending perfume inside the States, so I must. My apologies.

Special Thanks to My Photographer's Assistant, Peter Cat

With the exception of the beautiful photographs I occasionally wrangle out of my professional photographer friend Bill at ShootDC.com, all of the images on Scent Signals are shot by yours truly. As a media professional in real life, with friends who shoot for a living, I have issues with using other people's images without their permission. So I don't. My friends work hard at their craft, and for someone to come along and just take their work for their own project doesn't feel right to me.

It's definitely a gray area in the blogosphere. From what I've seen, some bloggers think it's cool to lift photos without permission so long as they give the person they've lifted from a photo credit and/or a link back to their site. As long as they're following the copyright guidelines posted by the photogs, fine. Though I'll bet most people will still want to know when their work is being used out there in cyberspace. Some bloggers sign up with photography sites that allow you to use images as long as you give the photographers credit and provide a link to their site, and they do play by the rules. That's totally cool.

It's those bloggers who don't bother to credit the original photographers or sources, who just take and use the images as if they were their own, who bother me. And I'm not talking about the sorts of images everyone has permission to use for free. I've seen images that were clearly taken by professional photographers - for museums, galleries, shops, and other organizations - used without any credit given. I find this astounding. And disrespectful.

My guess is those bloggers figure that because they're not selling products, the images they take from other sites fall under the fair-usage umbrella. That well may be. But it's still impolite. And even though they're not selling products, some bloggers are making good money selling advertising, so doesn't that change things, aren't they for-profits at that point?

I'd love to hear the opinions of fellow bloggers and blog readers, because I'm still figuring it all out. I've seen some great shots that would illustrate my articles perfectly, but I've held off using them because that tiny voice inside my head says it's not right unless I get permission. And since getting permission takes time, and I'm always slamming to get things done, I don't go that route. Am I being too uptight? Possibly. Probably. I just know how it feels to have your work ripped off, so I'm a little sensitive about it.

The upshot is I wind up taking lots and lots of photos for my blog. They don't all turn out great, but I think the majority of the shots that land on this site communicate my intended messages. And some of them are actually pretty decent, considering I'm not a pro and I don't have Photoshop.

I'll let you in on a little secret. The reason my photo shoots tend to go well is because I have some of the best photographic help in the world. My photographer's assistant, Peter Cat, is not only talented and conscientious, he's fun to work with. Anytime there's a shoot he is right there by my side offering inspiration and guidance. (The fact that he has the most irresistible, gloriously furry belly in the world is a bonus.)

He's always on time, prepared, and he knows how to keep things light, which any professional photog will tell you is critical to a shoot's success. Photographers also know how important a good cup of tea is to the creative process. So does Peter. That's why he is also my tea-making assistant. No matter what he's doing, he breaks to join me in the kitchen any time a fresh cup of tea is required. We gaze quietly at one another as the water heats. Then we get back to work. It's a zen thing.

So the next time you notice one of the photos here on Scent Signals, remember that it is the result of the teamwork and chemistry between Pete and yours truly. A true collaborative effort. If you look closely at the photos, you'll see the odd cat hair here and there as proof.

P.S. Lest you think Pete's brother, George (that's him in the pink boa at the top of the page), doesn't contribute to Scent Signals, he does. George is my writer's assistant.

Rub a Dub - Time to Stock Up on Soap for the Tub

Giant personal-care products producer Procter & Gamble just announced its most aggressive price hike since this latest oil fiasco began. Here's the scoop from Cosmetics Design-Europe.

Prices on P&G brand soaps, laundry detergents, dishwashing detergents and shaving products (and no doubt others) will rise noticeably in September. Which means now is a good time to stock up on these items, if you haven't already been doing so. The Sam's Clubs and Costcos of the world are probably digging this kind of news.

TJMaxx should be, too. That's where I head to look for deals on soaps. I love soaps. I love body washes, too, but I love smooth, hard bars of soap even more. Especially when the soap smells delicious. Pictured are just two of the yummy soaps I've found at TJMaxx.

The pineapple soaps smell incredibly rich and buttery - they're very nearly edible. They're from the Greenwich Bay Trading Co. in Raleigh, North Carolina. The Red Garden soap is from Portugal and smells just like Christian LaCroix Tumulte for Women. The label says its aromatic composition is made in France, so who knows. I've already been through a bar of this lightly rosy and spicy soap and am hanging onto this one, hoping to find others like it at the Maxx. Both soaps lather brilliantly.

I really like the heft of supersize bars of soap like The Red Garden, but if your hands are smaller like mine, you might find them hard to handle. So sometimes I cut them into halves or thirds. I don't think it makes them last any longer, it just makes them easier to hang onto when they're slick (these big bars hurt when you drop them on your toes).

Of course, if you're going to use soap, especially ones with lots of cocoa and shea butter, you need a little exfoliating action to make you feel clean and not like you've just slicked on a layer of fat. I like exfoliating mitts, which I call scrubby gloves. They're the easiest way I've found to lather up and exfoliate at the same time. They travel well, too - just throw them in their own plastic bag and go.

One more soapy note. When I first moved to Houston, land of heat and humidity, I noticed that my sweat, my body odor, smelled different (read: AMAZINGLY STRONG AND HORRIBLE) than it had in other towns in Texas and Florida (also hot and humid). I remember trying to attack the bacteria making that horrid smell with different antibacterial soaps, but they just made it worse.

It was as if the bacteria were fighting back by making their excrement smell as bad as they could before the soap killed them. You do know that that's what you're smelling when you smell B.O. - the excrement of bacteria, who've been munching on your perspiration and oils, right? I know. Eeeeewwww.

Anyway, as soon as I quit using antibacterial soap, the little suckers settled down and I started smelling better. I know it's counterintuitive to every advertisement you've ever seen, but if you have a problem with sharp, offensive body odor, stop using antibacterial soap. You'll notice a difference within a day or two. But make sure you are exfoliating. Those dead skin cells have to go or they will add a funk of their own.

The moral of this soap story? A good bar of regular soap is a nice thing to have around. Especially when it smells divine. So get some before it gets too expensive to enjoy.

(Does that scrubby glove remind anyone else of Thing?!)

A Trend I Like: Perfume in Smaller Bottles

I'm not much of a follower, so I've never slavishly followed fashion or other trends. If I like something, I'll adopt it - on my schedule - whether or not it's in vogue at the time. Same goes for perfume. I'm game to try as many perfume releases as they want to throw out there, but I won't buy a scent simply because it's the "new thing." Actually, I seem to have a thing for scents that aren't "in" or getting a lot of attention on the blogs.

That said, there is one current perfume trend I do like: companies offering scents in smaller-size bottles. They've been around for years, of course, as parfums sac, or purse sprays. But the earlier incarnation of the smaller scent bottle was usually filled with pure parfum from a higher-end line (like my Rochas parfum sprays there on the left), so it was still fairly expensive, and still a luxury.

Not anymore. Today's electronic newsletter from trendsetting French company Sephora contains 63 smaller-size perfume offerings. The least expensive costs $10, the most expensive, $77 (for a limited edition bottle). There are eaux de toilettes, eaux de parfums and perfume oils in sprays and rollerballs (and even scented towelettes). The volumes vary, but they're all conveniently sized for travel and other real-life situations. And some of them look just as handsome as a more expensive parfum sac.

What I like about this trend is it allows us to collect new perfumes without breaking the bank or taking up so much storage space, lets us give new scents we think we might love but don't want to totally commit to a test-run without killing our wallets, makes gift-giving easier and less expensive, and best of all, makes perfume affordable and available to more consumers. In this strange economy, these are all very good things. So, kudos to those perfume makers who are jumping on board the small-bottle train. I hope even more of you decide to do so.

Random Thoughts: Freedom on the Fourth

Spent the day enjoying and appreciating my freedom. Which meant reading, snacking, napping, and watching and smelling the spectacular rain we had today. It was a relatively quiet storm, very little scary lightning and thunder, just buckets and buckets of much-needed rain.

George loves that kind of weather as much as I do, so he and I sat out on the balcony and just soaked it in. Peter came out to check on us every few minutes. He's my big tomcat, but he's also the scaredy cat in the family. Any thunder and he heads for the hills, or behind the sofa, whichever is closer.

I was actually a little pensive today and not because it rained. A line from an article in Newsweek kept coming back to me. It's in this article, The Booze is Back in Baghdad. It details how a more liberal, secular culture is returning to some Iraqi neighborhoods. Merchants are getting back to work, having had to close their shops a couple of years ago due to death threats from religious extremists.

What struck me is what a hairdresser, who's been able to reopen her salon, said, "Women want to look beautiful again." I'm betting they've wanted to look beautiful all along. They just didn't want to be maimed or killed for it.

It's difficult for us who live with such an amazing amount of freedom to understand a culture that would threaten and even kill its women for wanting to look good. Or mutilate their genitalia in order to control them and keep them from enjoying sex. Or murder them simply for falling in love with the "wrong" man. Different countries, different outrages, same victims.

Things still aren't equal between the sexes in this country, but we have it pretty darn good. I hope we realize it.

When we while away hours online reading about perfume and makeup.

When we go shopping at the mall.

When we get dressed to go to work or on a date.

I hope we appreciate that we are free to read what we want, buy what we want, and wear what we want. If we appreciate something we are more likely to want to protect it.

Tonight there were fireworks. Took some pictures, but as I did I realized that fireworks are whole lot better when you look straight at them. They lose a lot of their impact when you watch them through a viewfinder. On the plus side, I got off a couple of cool shots.

Hope you had a happy Fourth, and that you enjoy and appreciate your freedom.

A Cat Tale of Two Scents: Valerian and Spikenard

I love cats because I love my home, and after a while they become its visible soul. - Jean Cocteau

A while back, I brought home a bottle of valerian capsules. Valerian is reputed to be a sleep aid, and I thought it might help me relax and get a better night's sleep. Have you ever sniffed valerian root? It's quite an odor. A complex brew of dirty gym socks, sweet urine, and whiskey-soaked wood. I wouldn't call it bad, but I know some would. It's one of those scents you can find interesting, once you've gotten over the initial shock. If you're into smelling things the way I am, that is.

My cat, George, found it enchanting. As soon as I opened the bottle, he nudged his nose into it. I tried to pull it away but he wouldn't let me. His eyes dilated and he got wilder than he ever has sniffing catnip. He went a little crazy actually, batting at me for access to the bottle. But in a nice way. There's not a mean cell in George, even when he's tipsy. His brother, Peter, was far less impressed by the valerian. Ho-hum, said he.

Then a few weeks ago, I ordered a bottle of spikenard (nardostachys jatamansi) from my favorite essential oil provider, Gritman Essential Oils. I was curious to know how it smelled, especially since spikenard was in the precious ointment Mary Magdelene used to wash Jesus's feet. I'm not at all certain that this is the "nard" in the Bible, but it could be. Perhaps a Biblical scholar can let me know.

I also ordered several other essential oils along with the spikenard. As soon as I got the box in the door, George pounced on it and tried to open it. He had to get at whatever was inside. I didn't know which essential oil he was after, so I hurriedly opened the box to find out. The bottles were all sealed with plastic and none had leaked. Yet one of them was calling out to George.

I presented the bottles to George, who dutifully sniffed each one in turn, and it was obvious that it was the spikenard that had attracted him. He grabbed it and drooled on it. Of course, all of this excitement attracted Peter, who, it turned out, also likes spikenard. I unsealed the bottle and put a drop of spikenard inside the cardboard box, so they could sniff it. The photos reveal what happened next. Notice the slobber and bite marks on the box.

Spikenard is not a classically pretty scent. It is like the most medicinal patchouli you've ever smelled mixed with camphor, wood smoke and earth. Not pretty but extremely compelling. It smells like something straight out of antiquity. I can easily imagine it being used in an ointment in Biblical times.

And what I find especially interesting is that valerian and spikenard are closely related. The two aromas George went bonkers for are connected. If I'd read the information about the spikenard I would've known that the two plants were related, too. But George knew it before I did, in his cat way. I think that's cool.

There is, incidentally, no way of talking about cats that enables one to come off as a sane person. - Dan Greenberg

Temptations of the Perfume Chase

Years ago my mother told me, Men like the chase. Perfume lovers like it, too. And like many men, we may even like the chase more than we do the conquest. The Wanting can be more fun than the Having. And the dreaming, the hoping, the salivating that comes with Wanting a perfume often lasts longer than the satisfaction of Having and wearing it.

We fan the flames of Wanting with information, devouring every morsel of fact and speculation about upcoming releases. We tingle with anticipation when one sounds good to us. We scour others' impressions of perfumes already on the market, but which we haven't tried, looking for signs. Must I have it? Can I live without it?

Perfume reviewers take the place of oracles. So-and-So says this about it, so I'll probably love it/hate it. We also seek out reviews of perfumes we know well, hoping for deeper insight and, in some cases, validation. Though we don't want to admit to that last part.

It's kind of like living inside a mystery novel. Like a good detective we diligently search for clues - to better understand the perfumes we own and identify the next perfume we should possess. And deep down we are always hoping that the next one will be the one. The one we can call our Holy Grail. The perfume that will make all others quake and pale before it. The one that will fill us in ways no other perfume has before.

When we find a perfume that stirs us, that on our skin (the secret ingredient) tells a magical story, we are thrilled. We are stoked. We are high. We can't wait to tell others about our wonderful olfactory carpet ride. Eureka! We have found it. Even if it isn't exactly the one, it's still amazing. And now we can finally rest, cozily wrapped in our new scent.

Or can we. How lasting is our satisfaction, really? How long before our latest perfume love begins to bore us in little ways? How long before we begin to cheat and seek the company of others? How long before we launch yet another search for the one or at least something to entertain us in the meantime? A day? A week? A month? A year? Sometimes our satisfaction is as ephemeral as a cologne.

My perfume collection reflects this love of the chase. Heck, I can't even claim to be a serial monogamist when it comes to perfume. I am a perfume player. Love 'em and leave 'em (in their boxes, in a cool place - I'm not totally heartless). Didn't used to be. I used to be happy with a little harem of four or five scents.

My perfume-buying habits changed dramatically several years ago, when I discovered the online perfume community. It was as if this free access to information awakened and fueled an untapped desire. I'd always loved perfume, but not like this. As I was free to indulge my passion for perfume, indulge it I did.

My dear friend Isabell has gently suggested that my perfume collecting has been an attempt to feed my soul, to nourish my spirit. That it is somehow connected with my love of beauty. I'd like to agree with her, but I'm not convinced that that is totally the case. Yes, I love beautiful things, and I am a geek, so I like to know as much as I can about those beautiful things, but my acquisitiveness hasn't been solely about communing with beauty.

I think it may have had as much to do with trying to make myself feel okay about the circumstances of my life, and about shaping an identity for myself. I'm still figuring it out. A few lines from the book A New Earth (Eckhart Tolle) gave me pause, though. He talks about the ego and its needs, and how we try to fulfill them, and that made me think about my relationship with perfume.

Here, from page 46:

Concealed within it (ego) remains a deep-seated sense of dissatisfaction, of incompleteness, of "not enough." "I don't have enough yet," by which the ego really means, "I am not enough yet."

And:

No ego can last for long without the need for more. Therefore, wanting keeps the ego alive much more than having. The ego wants to want more than it wants to have. And so the shallow satisfaction of having is always replaced by more wanting. This is the psychological need for more, that is to say, more things to identify with. It is an addictive need, not an authentic one.

That's the way some of us conduct our romantic lives, no? And how some of us relate to pefume, I among them. I don't know if it resonates with you to the degree it does with me, but wow. It hit me hard and square. Not sure yet how I'll respond. Some perfume lovers have purged their entire perfume collections in an effort to exorcise whatever demons were driving them. I don't know if that needs to happen, but I do know change is on the wind.

I could feel the change coming even before I picked up the book (which I walked away from twice before deciding to buy), and my attitude toward perfume is just a part of it. Feels like a good change. I think the next step may be to surrender to my current circumstances and just be present. I've done that before, and it's very powerful.

Somehow, I seem to have forgotten to do it for the past few years. Must be the heat.

Does Your Perfume Say What You Think It Says?

Your perfume is talking behind your back. It's saying all sorts of things about you. It's like a radio transmitter, sending out the subtext of your life. But who's it talking to, and what message is getting through?

If you wear a scent that makes you feel like a sex kitten, does it automatically telegraph "I am a sex kitten" to those around you?

If you're feeling happy and decide to wear one of your "footloose and fancy free" scents, does the scent communicate that lighthearted mood to friends and family?

If you spritz on a "confident and strong" scent, do others believe you are both?

Many of use choose our scents of the day based not only on how we feel (and how we want to feel), but on what we want to communicate. I know I do. And I can probably tell you which scents convey what messages more easily than I can describe the way they smell.

For instance, in my mind, Vivienne Westwood Boudoir is a very sexy scent. It's in my bombshell-sexy category. But does it say "bombshell-sexy" when I wear it? Am I the only one who hears its siren song, or do others find it (and me) alluring and seductive?

Is the way we respond to and feel about our perfumes all in our heads or something that can be shared with others?

I think it would be interesting to find out, so I propose a little experiment. I will wear Boudoir, a scent with a clear message, and ask others to tell me what they think that message is. I'll narrow it down by giving them four or five choices. We'll see how many people interpret Boudoir's message the same way I do.

I may even try the same experiment with other scents, just to see if I'm hallucinating when I think a perfume is saying something specific about me.

You know how we never quite see ourselves the way others see us? I wonder if the same is true when it comes to scent. Do we smell ourselves the way others smell us? I'll let you know what my little experiment reveals.

Editor's Note Added 07/05/08: I've worn Boudoir three times since writing this, and each time I've enjoyed it immensely, even in the heat and humidity. But at no point during the three days did I feel like carrying out my little experiment. So I have no idea if anyone else finds this perfume sexy. And I'm not sure I care!

It's as if Boudoir puts me in a rebellious mood where I don't give a rat's ass what anyone else thinks about my perfume. Don't like it? Tough ta! Maybe it's this devil-may-care attitude that communicates sexiness! Aren't we supposedly more alluring when we're confident?

I didn't conduct my experiment, but I did get to introduce Boudoir to a co-worker (she had read this article and asked about it - and it happened to be one of the days I wore Boudoir). She sprayed some on, and the next day she told me that all night long she had wanted the scent to go on and on. So, if no experiment, at least a convert!

The Ghost in Gain

My dear friend Isabell told me a ghost story last night. It was about her love Matthew, who died years ago in a tragic accident. It seems Matthew has been visiting Isabell for the past few weeks, showing up in her dreams, in her thoughts, and now, her nose.

This last visitation was, not surprisingly, extremely powerful for Isabell. It happened when she hugged another man, Brandt, goodbye. Brandt uses the same detergent Matthew did, and for an eternal instant, Isabell's mind was flooded with memories of Matthew.

Isabell knew the detergent, Gain, because she's consciously avoided it since Matthew's death. And yet here she was confronted with it in the arms of another man.

Of course, it's not just the smell of Gain that she remembers about Matthew. She says he had his own wonderfully rich, clean-man smell which not even Gain could disguise.

After the first waves of grief had passed and Matthew's scent had faded from the shirts he'd given Isabell, she'd decided that one way to keep the sadness at bay would be to not smell anything that reminded her of Matthew. So, no Gain detergent for Isabell.

But now here's Matthew and his Gain popping up all over the place years later. Is he trying to tell her something? Is he pointing to Brandt and giving him the thumbs-up as his successor? Or is he trying to warn her off and protect her from something?

Isabell wonders if it's time to let Matthew go, so she can be open to a new love. That is something she will have to decide for herself. If she does choose to bid adieu to Matthew, she would like to perform a letting-go ritual.

There are many aromatic traditions she could borrow from - smudge sticks, incense, aromatherapeutic oils, anointing oils - but I think it would help to use the fragrance she most closely associates with Matthew. That way she could confront it and take away its emotional hold over her.

Isabell is one of those wise women. She'll know what to do. And in fact, she may not need to do anything at all. Once she figures out what Matthew is trying to tell her, he'll move on. And of course, it might not even be Matthew she's dealing with, but old fears and grief surfacing to be healed.

But if there's a ritual to be done, I'll bring the box of Gain.

My Summertime Scent Theory

Happy Summer Solstice! This is one of two days during the year when the Sun stands still (the other being the Winter Solstice).

For those of us living in the southern half of the United States, it feels as if the Sun stands still every day from May through September, baking us into submission.

A few of you actually enjoy this heat. I think the Sun has fried your brains. It makes me wilt like a delicate blossom. All I want to do is stay indoors where it's air conditioned. This annoys me, because I'd much rather be outdoors.

I try not to bitch about it too much, but anyone who knows me knows how I feel about the summer heat - and the humidity, which may be even worse. Here in Houston we have the double-whammy of heat and humidity. (This is what happens when you build a city on swampy bayou land.) You perspire just getting to and from your car, and even a late evening walk leaves you sopping wet.

All the beauty magazines advise us to choose light, citrusy scents and colognes to fight the heat and humidity. And I know a lot of people do. Not I. My summertime scent choices go against the common wisdom. Yet they're logical in their own way. Summer is a season of rich odors - from plants and flowers to rain and fruits, dirt, sweat and decay. The scents I gravitate toward at this time of year have connections to the odors I find in nature.

That's the logic to wearing them now. They don't fight the heat and stickiness head on. Instead, they complement and accommodate it.

Here are some of the scents I've discovered work for me when it's icky-sticky outside:

Robert Piguet Fracas. This creamy white floral has a reputation for being loud and obnoxious, but it purrs on my skin, and stays surprisingly clean and fresh-smelling even when I'm drippy and droopy. And it seems to make others happy when they smell it. It reminds them of the beach and good times. Other white florals that work in the heat include The Different Company Jasmin de Nuit, Kai, Annick Goutal Songes, Diptyque Do Son, and L'Artisan Tubereuse.

Guerlain Mitsouko. A glorious, golden affair that screams sophistication even when I'm sopping wet. I first discovered Mitsouko could work in the heat when I smelled it on a friend of my mother's. I was shocked that she was wearing it in the summertime in Florida (which is as hot and sticky as ours), and equally shocked to find that it smelled fantastic. It blooms in the heat. Other fruity chypres that work well in the summertime include Vivienne Westwood Libertine, Patou Colony, YSL Y, Hermès Amazone, Patou Forever, and Femme de Rochas.

Eau d'Italie Paestum Rose. This beautiful blend of rose and incense is amazingly cooling and calming. It gives the impression of being watery and dry as a stone at the same time. I love the mix of roses and incense, so I riff on the Paestum Rose theme by wearing CdG Avignon with rose scents like Bond No. 9 Bryant Park, Keiko Mecheri Mihime and Creed Fleurs de Bulgarie. I find the incense works best with a crisp, rather than a powdery, rose.

Serge Lutens Clair de Musc. I have found that most any musk works well for me when I'm superheated. But this one is especially pretty with its touch of orange blossoms. You know the song I Feel Pretty from West Side Story? Clair de Musc is light and pretty in that way. Other musks that smell great when it's hot include Keiko Mecheri Musk, Jovan Musk Oil, Kiehl's Original Musk Oil and Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur.

Caron Narcisse Noir. Another heady floral with animalic undertones that handles the summertime heat and humidity. I wore this to a mid-summer, outdoor concert here, and even though my dress was soaked through and I was miserable, my perfume smelled great. Which means it didn't go sour or turn on me. Serge Lutens Fleurs d'Oranger, À la Nuit and Frederic Malle Une Fleur de Cassie are other heady florals that work well at this time of year.

My summertime scent theory: Complement and accommodate the heat and humidity rather than trying to overcome it with a citrus or cologne. Play around with scents you might not have considered for summertime. I think you'll find you have more options than magazine wisdom suggests.

Comfort Foods are M'm M'm Good!

We interrupt this perfume broadcast for a quick excursion into the land of comfort foods. A recent trip to the grocery store and a few seconds worth of navel gazing are to blame.

I love Campbell's Bean with Bacon Soup. I have loved it since elementary school. And, with the exception of McDonald's french fries, it is the only brand-name foodstuff I have continued to consume through decades of change.

As far as I can tell, they haven't messed with the smell, taste, or color (it's still the same reassuring nuclear orange), although they have made the cans easier to open.

The perfume industry should take a cue from Campbell's.

This is how you treat a classic.

Oh sure, there are other soups, but for some reason, if I know I have a can of Bean with Bacon Soup in the cupboard, all is right with my world. It is part of the comfort-food group, the one they left out of the food pyramid. The comfort-food group includes this soup, french fries, grilled-cheese sandwiches, cheeseburgers, orange juice, potato chips, cookies, tea, honey, eggs, cheese (there is no bad cheese, people), and bacon.

Yep, as much as I enjoy opulence, sophistication and a certain je ne sais quoi in my fragrances, I am pretty pedestrian in my food choices. My last meal request would probably be for a rare steak, golden pommes frites, a plain, boiled artichoke, a juicy orange, a handful of ripe Bing cherries, a hunk of cheese, and a cup of tea with honey. Okay, maybe with a warm snifter of Grand Marnier or Cointreau to cap it all off. Simple, but good.

Some of the most memorable and comforting meals I've eaten have been in France. But they weren't rich affairs smothered in creamy sauces. One was in family friend Mimina's home, where she fed us a simple vegetable potage I couldn't get enough of, which shocked my mother, who thought I didn't like vegetables. Turns out I like vegetables, just not the frozen-then-boiled vegetables I'd been given until then. Another simple meal of grilled fresh trout from a local river marked the first time I realized I liked fish.

What may be my favorite meals of all time were consumed at L'Entrecôte in Toulouse. The only items on the menu were entrecôte (thick slices of beef served rare on the inside, charcoal-black on the outside), heaps of perfectly cooked pommes frites, and a simple green salad with walnuts. There may have been the ubiquitous cheese tray to finish, I don't recall. They were the most perfect steak-and-potato meals I've ever had, and if we'd eaten there every day I would've been content.

Have you ever read a Martha Grimes mystery featuring the handsome Scotland Yard detective Richard Jury? They're great reads, partly because Jury and his colleagues are always stopping for tea, which always includes food, and always commenting on the state of British cuisine. Because of them, I am keen to try beans on toast and other quintessentially British fare. It all sounds right up my alimentary alley.

Fortunately, until I travel there, I can content myself with this food travelogue called "eggbaconchipsandbeans."

The guy runs around England - maybe the British Isles - taking snaps of the food at what we would call greasy spoons. He also documents the cafés themselves, from the seating to the décor to the condiments. It is, simply put, food porn. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. (Thanks to the Austin-based scent site mossy loomings for finding it.)

I don't know about you, but I could eat a full, traditional hot breakfast - eggs, potatoes, bacon or sausage, toast, juice and tea - any time of day. And a meal of steak, eggs and potatoes sounds like a slice of heaven to me. When I lived in Dallas I knew which dive diners served the best of this comfort food, and my friend J and I would frequent them (I miss you, J!). And my friend Bill and I would while away hours talking over the food at the Original Pancake House (which he loved because of the buffalo china and heavy flatware). But I've just realized that here in Houston I don't have a favorite hole in the wall for this kind of food. Maybe that's what's been missing, and why this place doesn't feel like home to me. I wonder.

Femme de Rochas: THIS is Perfume!

If I had to pick one perfume to represent my idea of perfume, one perfume to put in a time capsule for humans centuries hence, one perfume to explain perfume to an extraterrestrial, I would pick Femme de Rochas.

Each time I smell Femme, I think, THIS is perfume. This is what perfume was meant to be. This is what perfume can be. This is what perfume should be. Femme has set a standard for me and set it high. This, I realize, is what I am looking for, hoping for, each time I try a new scent.

I've worn Femme since the mid-1970's. In my mind it is inextricably linked with France, where I discovered it. Or did it discover me? I read somewhere that the genius behind Femme, Edmond Roudnitska, liked to ponder the ideas of time and space. This doesn't surprise me. Femme is truly a molecular time machine.

One sniff and it is autumn in the land of Gaston Fébus. I am wearing a plum-colored sweater as I sip Armagnac through a sugar cube and smoke a slim cigar with my mother's cousin André. Later I am walking through misty rain with Jean-Pierre, exploring the streets of Toulouse. We stop to listen to a piano concert in the cloister of the Cathedral of les Jacobins. Then I am at the upstairs window of my grandmother's house, watching my great-uncle walk the cows to the fields, bells tinkling soft and low.

In a recent post about the ways in which we use perfumes as invisible masks , I chose Femme as one of my talismanic scents. It is a most powerful talisman.

Femme means "woman" in French. The scent is said to have been created by Marcel Rochas as a wedding present for his young bride Hélène. The bottle is reputed to be shaped after the womanly curves of actress Mae West.

Everything about Femme whispers "woman." Femme captures the exquisite beauty and pain of being human, of being fully woman - the longing, desire, sexuality, love, joy, adventure, loss, even death. And it makes it all all right. It is talisman and panacea.

How does it smell? Warm, golden, sensual, and animal. And very, very personal. Intimate beyond compare. It's the sort of aroma you want to roll around in and get all over you. Something you wish you smelled like naturally. Roudnitska and Rochas knew and loved women, if Femme is any indication.

Femme is categorized as a fruity-chypre. Various sources include these notes: bergamot; peach; plum; aldehydes; sandalwood; rosewood; cinnamon; clove; lemon; mai rose; ylang-ylang; jasmin; orris; oakmoss; patchouli; musk; amber; civet; leather; vanilla; and, in the reformulation, cumin. That last note is scary to some people, who think they smell B.O. instead of cumin, but I like it.

Unlike some, I have little interest in pulling Femme apart to examine each note. I know there are spices. I know there are flowers. I know there are fruits. I know there are animalic notes. But they don't dance or reveal themselves one after another like marchers in some strange olfactory parade.

Femme is Femme from start to finish. There is never a time that I don't know exactly what I am dealing with. It is present and alive and ready to play, like a cat. And its sum is so much greater than its parts. Because Femme has the spirit of Roudnitska in it, and that's a note you'll not find on any list.

Femme just is. If you're lucky enough to befriend it, it radiates from you like an aura, having become one with you. When you wear Femme you reveal things about yourself, yet you're in control. This interplay of revelation and control is very sexy. I can see it intimidating the hell out of an insecure man. Or woman for that matter.

I enjoy both the vintage (circa 1945) and the 1989 reformulation, though of course, they really had no business tinkering with perfection. At least Olivier Cresp didn't completely ruin the scent as has happened with so many remakes.

This is one of those scents where people fight over which version is best. Just find some Femme and smell it. If you're the least bit interested in knowing how amazing and powerful a perfume can be, Femme de Rochas is a must-try.

Banana Republic Classic Perfume Release: Behind the Smoke and Mirrors

Ever wonder what it's like to be one of the country's top beauty editors? Those special few who get invited to those fancy perfume-release parties, where companies regale you with the dazzling delights of their new fragrances (with the unspoken but clear expectation that you will dutifully turn around and tell us, the buying public, about those dazzling delights)?

Well, wonder no more.

Joshua David Stein attended the recent luncheon for Banana Republic's newly tweaked and re-released Classic perfume celebrating the brand's 30th anniversary. Here's a taste of the goings-on:

Back in the safari-jacketed days of 1995, she explained, Banana Republic Classic was an eau de toilette. De Metz was very excited to be able to announce that today’s Classic was a more concentrated eau de parfum. The editors clapped politely.

Enjoy this tongue-in-cheek peek behind the perfumed veil of scent marketing as the New York Times crashes the Banana Republic party.

Thanks to Joe for bringing it to my attention.