The first perfume I bought with my baby-sitting money was Fabergé Tigress, for no better reason than that faux tiger-fur cap and the ad that went “Because men are such animals”, an assertion I couldn’t possibly verify in an all-girl Catholic school at the age of 13. I’d gone to get it after a lunch of greasy brown fries doused in vinegar purchased from a trailer on the parking lot next to Woolworth’s. My enabler was Sylvie, who I’d befriended because we were both ostracized by the other girls, me for being a bookworm with the unfortunate habit of correcting their grammatical mistakes (my parents did it with me but never indicated I should refrain from correcting my classmates), her for having grown an unwieldy set of breasts that got her branded as a slut. Makeup was our only bond, and we discussed it endlessly over copies of Seventeen or Mademoiselle.
Recently, Angela from Now Smell This was sweet enough to send me a decant of vintage Tigress, which I wanted to revisit in a bid to track the growth of my olfactory obsession. I dunked a strip into the vial expecting to experience the kind of Proustian flashback you’re supposed to get when you catch a smell that’s part of your past. A memory of a sleepover giggles. Of choosing a training bra. Of babysitting those obnoxious twins who wouldn’t let me leaf through their mom’s Cosmos (their big brother did turn out to be an animal, by the way).
Instead, Tigress conjured about half the history of perfumery: aldehydic top notes, a cheap Lux soap-type rose, hot with cloves on a vanilla-less balsamic base, with a lash of moss and quite a bit of patchouli. An aldehydic-fougère-oriental hybrid that brought to mind L’Origan, Youth Dew, Tabu and Opium; a decent drugstore scent caught in the limbo of serial, and ever cheaper reformulations. Not even close to the type of carnal white florals, fruity chypres or woods, iris leathers and smoky notes I tend to favor today.
And nowhere near anything I remember having worn.
Either the formula in Angie’s bottle is not the one I bought back in the day. Or I bought it and never actually wore it. Or I wanted to buy it, and got something else instead.
Or my original memory has been entirely and irretrievably crushed by the similar, but more distinctive fragrances I’ve worn and/or analyzed since then.
Still, “tigress” isn’t half-bad a definition for me.
On to you: Have you ever revisited a scent from your very early youth, and what happened? Proust or bust?
Illustration: Ad for Tigress featuring the singer and actress Lola Falana, shamelessly lifted from Okadi.
I was a Woodhue girl in those days!
RépondreSupprimerAnd definitely Proust. I'll sometimes even get phantom whiffs of - not just perfume - but it could be anything, and am instantly transported to earlier times and places.
The very first fragrance I purchased with my own money (also from babysitting) was Coty Muguet des Bois. I remember thinking that I was so sophisticated because I didn't wear Sweet Honesty or Loves Baby Soft like the other girls I knew. After all, my perfume had a French name!! LOL
RépondreSupprimerI recently purchased a bottle just for the memories. I must admit it was a disappointment. It seemed so thin - for lack of a better word. Nothing like the woody scents I gravitate towards today. In some ways I regret smelling it again as the memories were so much nicer than the reality.
I wore Cristalle exclusively as a teen, and tried it on a few years ago at a department store. I was horrified! What did I ever see in this thin, synthetic mess? I was very relieved to read on Basenotes it had been reformulated, and that the original Cristalle really had been spectacular.
RépondreSupprimerTerrific article as usual, a fun read.
-Marla
Rappleyea, I often get phantom whiffs too, but I must be getting too "pro" because this immediately starts off analytical trains of thought (which perfume/could it be used in a perfume/could it be used in a piece of writing?). So, Proustian in a way, I guess.
RépondreSupprimerAnonymous, was it a vintage bottle? If you wore it at a time when Baby Soft was popular, I wonder what condition the formula was in. Edmond Roudnitska admired Coty's Muguet des Bois -- formulated by Henri Robert who went on to work for Chanel, so it must've been pretty damn good, actually, at least when it came out.
RépondreSupprimerMarla, I need to re-smell Cristalle. I never wore it but I don't have memories of thin and synthetic. It *was* a great citrus/green/floral chypre.
RépondreSupprimerI think I am missing the real jasmine- the old Cristalle of the 80s was loaded with it!
RépondreSupprimerNot to mention all that yummy galbanum and smidge of real oakmoss....
-Marla
Marla, real jasmine (and of course oakmoss) make all the difference, don't they. Between the accountants and IFRA, our fragrant memories have gone up in the air.
RépondreSupprimerYes, I wish some of the brilliant professional perfumers out there would create a "We Thumb Our Talented Noses at IFRA and Lawyers" line, using anything that they wished, wouldn't that be splendid? There could be a black box warning, so we could be forewarned about horrible rashes and whatever else Brussels is protecting us from....
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Marla, I wouldn't want to think of the prices... I don't imagine they could get a lot of backers, considering the limited distribution. And it wouldn't bring back the disfigured classics.
RépondreSupprimerI remember I stole some Chanel 5 and Shalimar from my much older sisters...and I don't think that I have recreated that experience since. Kind of like sneaking a cigarette, the smell gives you away, but you crave it anyway
RépondreSupprimerLucy, I hope you didn't wear them together. I smelled the mix in an artist's installation and it was unholy...
RépondreSupprimerGreat question! I'm still waiting to try a few drops of Babe to see what that does for me. I did smell Charlie a few years ago, and it brought back an avalanche of feelings--mostly horrible. I wanted to exorcise the room in which I'd sprayed it.
RépondreSupprimerAs for Tigress, with an ad like that, what pre-teen could resist?
My mother had a seldom-used gift set of Faberge colognes-- Woodhue, Aphrodisia, Tigress-- on her dresser when I was a child. I of course always wished she would wear Tigress because the name and the "fur" cap pleased me so much. (It didn't impress her, but a few years later she fell for Youth Dew, and it became her signature for several years; so she had a taste for the powerhouse frags after all).
RépondreSupprimerBack to the subject-- my own fragrances past definitely evoke their respective eras for me. Reformulations aside (and I've been crushed by those that have been ruined), I've never said "What was I thinking?" about an old perfume love, but I often can't wear them any more because they're TOO remininscent of an age and a stage that I've outgrown. The original Chloe definitely falls into this group!
I do love the Tigress ads-- nice to see that Lola Falana pic again.
-- Gretchen
Angela, sometimes I'm a little alarmed I don't get that avalanche for anything much... God knows I'm pretty easily moved. Perhaps I'm just repressing my memories of adolescence?
RépondreSupprimerI'm sure Charlie would ring a bell. I didn't wear it but it must've permeated the era...
Gretchen, I've been pushing back smelling the original Chloe again... Mine's Habanita, because I wore it for 10 years. I can't wear anything that's reminiscent of it.
RépondreSupprimerI didn't go in much for perfume. Except...I did have, and use on occasion, Anais Anais.
RépondreSupprimerI have a micro mini of the perfume (parfum) from a set, vintage, but what vintage, I do not know. I do know that I finally geared up to open it. Once. And it has a lot more going on than the current edc, though the relationship is clear. It's like the current one is a reproduction of a reproduction--and you know what you can get of an original from a print in the first place.
Lola Falana, though...HER I remember! She had a certain kind of persona during all of those variety show appearances on (American) t.v....kind of like crossing Lena Horne with Charo. So says my hazy memory. You got the sense she was smarter, more dangerous off camera.
Or maybe I liked to think so. :) Anyway, they generally had her dancing. That much, I trust my brain is recalling correctly. ;)
ScentScelf, I'm afraid I have no memories of Lola Falana apart from that ad which I *do* remember. I'm sure she made good on the promise of that picture.
RépondreSupprimerAs soon as I figured out that ebay had vintage perfumes, I started tracking down lost scents from my past in order to reclaim those bits of myself. Often, they don't smell as good as I remember. Sometimes, there's a strange effect.
RépondreSupprimerFor example, the right vintage of White Shoulders smells the same - and good - but it makes me feel profoundly anxious. I must have worn it at a particularly insecure point in time (i.e., as a teenager, LOL).
Shalimar smells the same, but what I remember from the past is buying it unsniffed and repelled by that unique central accord that makes it unmistakably Shalimar. Now, suddenly, it's as if a switch was flipped, and it smells fantastic! The nose is a fickle organ... ~~nozknoz
Nozknoz, I don't have access to US eBay perfume auctions anymore (they're blocked by eBay following a court decision won by LVMH in France), but when I did, I used to try and look for the exact same bottle I knew, hoping I'd get the same vintage. Especially with perfumes that went the drugstore way after their age of splendor, it makes a huge difference. For instance, I smelled vintage Je Reviens in a quality formula, and it reminded me of nothing at all, whereas the cheapest possible 70s version brings back all sorts of vibes.
RépondreSupprimerYes! It must be the exact bottle (if I can remember it).
RépondreSupprimerAnother odd thing is that I had a completely different memory of Emeraude. I don't know whether I've mixed it up with another scent, or if my memory simply invented a scent that matched the name. Curious!
That's really too bad about ebay and LVMH. Although my credit cards would certainly rejoice if I got blocked, too. :-) ~~nozknoz
Nozkonz - I recently bought the current version of Emeraude because I wanted to recall my youth and the wearing of it on autumn days just as the cold weather sneaks in. It felt glamourous and comforting at the same time. I don't know why I bothered as the reformulation is nothing like my memories! In fact, I think I will have to learn just to conjure up psychic fragrances in the future as I am nearly always disappointed in new versions, and most of the vintage bottles have turned. I suppose our tastes change too, but nothing enrages me more than the bad reworking of the classics - Carmencanada and Marla, the current Cristalle is SO different from my beloved, original perfume, which I wore on my wedding day! Jillie
RépondreSupprimerNozknoz, re: LVMH, my vintage collection has sadly ground to a halt which annoys me no end though as you say, it's probably better for my overstrained finances. I still have a lot of older fragrances to discover, and the way reformulations are going, I need to get references of a lot of classics, even those I don't wear.
RépondreSupprimerI can access US auctions from Canada when I visit my family, but don't want to get anything shipped there: the Canadian post is notorious for inflicting the worst outrages on perfume bottles.
Jillie, I was discussing reformulations with a high-profile perfumer who is entrusted with a historic portfolio, and this very argument came up in the conversation: how people are losing a bit of their most cherished memories when perfumes are reformulated. Apart from the artistic vandalism, that's the most shocking and sad thing, really.
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