I think this book has suffered from its marketing. The book jacket proclaims it to be the "definitive" guide to perfumes, which is understandable (who, besides a confirmed perfume addict, would buy a non-definitive guide to perfumes?) but also silly, and when you read the reviews, you realize Turin and Sanchez aren't trying to be objective. They're presenting their own opinions, sometimes with elaborate metaphors, sometimes with funny but hardly illuminating quips, sometimes drifting off into personal anecdote.
I love this. I think they are both hugely entertaining writers; I love their bitchiness, I love Turin's arrogance, and I love their willingness to sum perfumes up with lines like "If you drive a Moscow taxi at night, this one's for you" and "If you like this kind of thing, your thong is probably showing above your jeans." Consider the image that came to my mind the first time I smelled Fracas:
Followed by this image:
And it's not that I don't like or appreciate Fracas; I do. But I don't wear it, simply because no matter how beautifully orchestrated the peach-and-tuberose combination, no matter how lovely I find it on others, it feels like a fragrance for someone else: a bombshell, a sexpot, "a blonde to make a bishop kick a hole through a stained-glass window". There's nothing technical or intellectual about this response; it's all memory and emotion -- but isn't that why most of us wear perfume?
Since I'm new to perfume, I'm not really concerned about what reading Turin and Sanchez might do to my own critical judgment. At this point, I don't feel I have much, and fragrance is such a very intimate, personal thing that I think it's hard to be too much swayed by others' opinions. It's one thing to muscle your way through a book you don't like, quite another to live with a smell you don't like. I have smelled Bulgari Black and Dior Homme, both of which get raves from Turin, and...well-composed they may be, but they both give me an instant headache, and that is that. Estée Lauder Beyond Paradise, which Turin has called "the perfect floral", was another headache-inducing scrubber for me, calling up images of Mystic Tans and all-inclusive resorts. I don't think Annick Goutal Eau de Charlotte smells like a "soapy green" at all; I think it smells like mimosa, jam and several types of powder (baby powder, cocoa powder, icing sugar), and I'm clearly not alone in that. And on a more general note, my personal experience doesn't bear out Turin and Sanchez's assertion that skin chemistry is unimportant.
I think this book could have been edited a little better; for example, it's odd to see Turin and Sanchez repeatedly reference perfumes they don't review in the book (Knize Ten, YSL Champagne/Yvresse). And again, I don't consider it "definitive" in any way. But it's enormous fun, often hilarious, and a good resource for a relative novice like me, someone learning the basics of perfume history and trying to decide what to sample next.
I have the same problem with Fracas, though I think it's often nice to wear perfumes at cross-purposes, but Fracas is a simply too much va-va-voom. I do wear and adore SL Tubereuse Criminelle, which I think is closely related.
ReplyDeleteI've been sneaking peeks at this while I work, just to see what they say about what I'm about to review and such, and I've been a little disappointed. Their work is good, but now I'm getting the sense that quite a few perfume bloggers write just as powerfully and evocatively, though much less tightly edited.
ReplyDeletePersonally, I think I've gone past the "interest in unusual, unconventional accords" stage and am finally arriving at a point of over-saturation. I've always maintained that beauty and fashion is about the sense of fun, adventure, and humor, but I'm growing tired of how pompous perfume appreciation is, though it's such a deep intoxicant at first.
It's absolutely true that many perfume bloggers are putting out work as good as T&S, and I think that may be part of what frustrates perfumistas about the book -- it's really no better than a lot of what you can read free of charge. On the other hand, they're bitchier than most perfume bloggers I've read, and I am always drawn to bitchiness. :)
ReplyDeleteI don't mind the bitchiness, I figure it's good if they point out the things the perfume industry is doing behind out backs, it's their adulations that leave me cold; they're kind of prejudiced when it comes to Sonia Grojsman, and two of the more disgusting perfumes I can think of are Calyx and Tresor, Paris I can tolerate at a distance, White Linen is the only one I like (but still can't really wear it).
ReplyDeleteOh, man, I thought I was the only one who couldn't handle Sophia Grojsman scents -- the ones I have smelled have been WAY too sweet.
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