Parfum Pour Homme
The One that Made Me Turn my Head
Many French words, including “cul-de-sac,” “rendezvous,” and “bon appétit,” are well integrated into everyday English. It is also true of the word “parfum,” which sounds very French but is derived from the Latin “per fumus” (meaning “through smoke”). Parfum later became a French name for the smell of burning incense and, over time, for what it means today. For me, perfume inspires memories and brings out emotions; there is so much to be said about it. This is a story about a particular perfume. A very nice one that I have been wearing since my late teens.
I lived in Paris then, and like many other teens, I was busy with school, body image worries, and some crushes. Champs-Élysées was nowhere near my school, but it is where Sephora’s flagship store is, and I sometimes went there to check out the new perfumes. I would go in armed with a thick scarf around my neck because the air in the store is “polluted” with the mix of scents, and by the tenth sniff, it would be hard to decipher Chloe’s INNOCENCE from CK’s ONE. And yet, the goal was to get to the end of the store without missing anything, especially the new arrivals. I must say, Sephora on Champs-Élysées is a meeting place for people to gather and enjoy something in person with their own hands, eyes, and ears. I experimented with styles, tried new looks, got advice, and played with my image in the mirror. At 16, I found the time.
I never went into the male section (to the left of the entrance). I didn’t even know whether men I knew wore perfume. To me, men up close smelled of their deodorants or lack thereof. I never thought much about it until this one guy walked by. Asian, fit (like a golfer), and elegant, in beige Swade moccasins. He just walked by, and I only know what he looked like because, yes… I turned around.
I turned my head like someone twisted my neck against my will. Like in the movies and commercials, “she sensed him… and love was in the air.” I was in love with something out there and turned around to see what it was. The guy was pacing on, and I was frozen in one spot like a young female character in a Ghibli animation: the wind swirled my hair up, my eyes began to water, the city noise turned into a background Humm, and I stared at his departing silhouette, greedily consuming whatever was left of his intoxicating fragrance I was so scared to forget.
None of this would have been so melodramatic if this were a woman. Women ask women, “Where did you get that?” all the time. I don’t mind being asked, but I would only ask older women who would never respond, “Oh, I can’t remember.” In any case, there is no way I could ask a guy anything like that. I was shocked at myself for having turned around at all. Because of a scent! This had never happened to me before. Not once. In any case, I was not going to run after him.
So, I stood there looking at him disappear, and, in a way only my teenage self would carve out time for, I made it my mission to remember and find that scent by memory. There was only one way to solve this self-imposed mystery. I had to return to Sephora, the biggest one you know all about, and find it.
I went back armed with three scarves, one on my neck and two hidden in my bag, to switch the one soaking with the smells in the air. It was a hopeless exercise. I looked like I would steal something because I was perusing Sephora’s quiet male perfume section for too long, refusing help. How would the staff know I didn’t have the words to describe the perfume I was looking for. I didn’t get to it the first time because when I say “flagship store,” I mean an indoor “city” with infinite aisles and a carpeted path spacious enough for a mom with a twin stroller to walk along. It is so big that standing at the entrance you cannot see the products displayed in the last row. My search went on for a while, but eventually I found it.
It is called L’EAU D’ISSEY POUR HOMME by Issey Miyake. To stay as close to it as possible, I’ve gifted my husband this heavenly artwork of a scent many times only to find it intact in his suitcases and medicine cabinets. He is the kind of guy who smells of his deodorant.
So, I settled for the femme version, which wasn’t the same. But, it had a very unique characteristic. Once I wore it, I barely smelled it! Even the first time I tried it on, the female version of Issey Miyake felt more subtle. It has this delicate trailing hint of smell quality that, mixed with my body chemistry, produces something very nuanced and personal. People rarely comment on it but say they remember it on me. That is probably how you know you have found “the one” among perfumes — you enjoy it without being distracted, and others remember you by it.
Recently, I came across a new contender potentially taking Issey Miyake’s seasoned and well-deserved place. After over a decade with Issey Miyake, I am infatuated with another. It happened tout d’un coup, and if we stay together, I will probably write about it. For now, I am getting to know it. It’s different. There is something mature, assertive, and feminine about its fragrance… It has wood in its top and base notes and the word “lover” in its description. Is that enough of a clue? It feels like it would be a big change. It will turn heads.
© 2024 Jill Blinick
