A Year In Fragrance: Hateful ‘fumes

hateful fumes

This is has not been a great month, but I am not even going to get into it, because I am angry–I’ve been at a low boil for days–but if I delve into and explore any reasons why, even in some vague, oblique way, I just know I will commit to words something regrettable. Suffice it to say I am taking many, many deep breaths and trying not to spend too much time dwelling on things.

However, it has put me in a perfect mood to talk about the perfumes that I hate. I am in fine form to go on about such things right now, there is no doubt about it. Without further preamble, here are some shitty-ass perfumes that I despise. Folks who know my preferences and predilections have probably read these rants before,  and for that I apologize; feel free to skip right to the comments where you can tell me all about a scent that you loathe. Let’s commiserate together, stinky friends.

The first scents on this list are probably the most hateful because they evoke an aggressive emotional response from me. The rest, eh, they’re just really gross.

fbomb

I hate Victor and Rolf’s Flowerbomb so much that I nearly fly into a rage. Described as “an explosive bouquet of fresh and sweet notes”, I personally think it smells like a conflagration of petty spite, mean-spiritedness, and small minds.  Like bigoted small town pageant moms and the shitty popular girls in 80s movies. It simultaneously makes me want to cringe and cry. It’s one of Daim Blond’s (see below) awful cronies. It’s all the Heathers. Also: it’s an enormous lie. It smells nothing like any flower. As to what it does smell like, precisely, I cannot pinpoint. A shallow dish of sugar water with some sneezy, cloying powder mixed in. Like Koolaid, I guess. It smells like a celebutaunt-inspired Koolaid. Or…unless, of course, there is a blossom or bloom that smells like Bongo jeans and hair-sprayed bangs and the wretched duo of Jennifer W. and Amanda P. in the 7th and 8th grade. How’s it feel to be the inspiration for the world’s worst fragrance, you dumb, hateful bitches.

dbland

With regard to Serge Luten’s Daim Blond, I do smell all of the things that people seem to love about it: the elusive whiff of soft suede from the inner pocket of an impossibly expensive handbag, the cool floral iris, the bowl of apricots sitting in a beam of afternoon sunlight.And I almost feel badly saying anything negative at all, since it came from a very special, generous person. On me, however, this does not add up to anything special – just a lightly sweet, vaguely fruity scent that lingers just above my skin and doesn’t seem to want to get to know me very well. Pretty much like most of my high school experience. But then again, this smells like everything I didn’t like about most girls my age in high school, and honestly, probably many people who are my age now (see also: everyone in Naples, FL).

This isn’t to make a judgement about you folks who love it, of course – it takes all kinds. But it’s difficult to look at something like fragrance objectively, when it conjures so many associations and memories with it. And to me, Daim Blond is starting to smell like everyone who every ignored me, and so I in turn came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t want to waste my time with these boring, uninteresting people anyhow. See? Now I am making judgements. It’s gone from a slightly pretty, expensive smelling scent to boring and uninteresting. I think Daim Blonde basically sums up Normcore for me; I have taken to calling it “Dame Bland”.

And there’s more…

💩 Burberry Brit: expecting scones & Earl Grey? Nope, you get fruit cocktail and jello molds

💩 Comptoir Sud Pacifique’s Matin Calin is all cursed, sour milk & Miss Havisham’s garbage

💩 Lady Gaga’s Fame is akin to a musty fruit bowl in a girl’s locker room after soccer practice

💩 Flora by Gucci smells like #allpinkeverything and a significant drop in IQ

OKAY. I think I have got all the bile and vitriol out of my system by being passive aggressive and mean to a bunch of perfumes.  Carry on!

PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS
A Year In Fragrance: Scents For Sleep
A Year In Fragrance: “Inexpensive” Stuff
A Year In Fragrance: Youth Dew
A Year In Fragrance: a dude thinks on stinks
A Year In Fragrance: Witch’s Workbench
A Year In Fragrance: Willow & Water
A Year In Fragrance: Tea Rose

6 Comments on A Year In Fragrance: Hateful ‘fumes

  1. OTB
    August 31, 2016 at 11:22 am (8 months ago)

    I am sorry you are having a bad month. It must be something in the air…but I do love your ability to describe these hateful perfumes.

    Reply
  2. Minna
    August 31, 2016 at 12:15 pm (8 months ago)

    2016 in general has been rather bumpy. I hope it smooths out for you soon; however, in the meantime feel free to continue venting/decanting your spleen into such lovely vitriol as this. Even your hate is delicious.

    Reply
  3. Joy
    August 31, 2016 at 2:52 pm (8 months ago)

    This:

    “Or…unless, of course, there is a blossom or bloom that smells like Bongo jeans and hair-sprayed bangs and the wretched duo of Jennifer W. and Amanda P. in the 7th and 8th grade. How’s it feel to be the inspiration for the world’s worst fragrance, you dumb, hateful bitches.”

    Is hands down, the most spot on thing I’ve ever read and I adore you for writing it.

    Reply
  4. Kate
    September 2, 2016 at 6:20 am (8 months ago)

    Hating on perfume is one way of dealing with a not-so great-month. I couldn’t help but laugh!
    Surely the Lady Gaga perfume deserves some points for a pretty cool packaging (for some reason, it makes me think of Guillermo del Toro’s ‘Cronos’)?

    Either way, the only perfume I tolerate is Donna Karan’s Black Cashmere (smells of an old wooden church and old books with yellowing pages… Not sure the general society approves of my choice, but they don’t have to sniff me after all…) and Dior’s Hypnotic Poison.

    Reply
  5. Maika
    September 2, 2016 at 5:25 pm (8 months ago)

    Reading your descriptions of fragrance you love is already one of my favorite things, but reading your descriptions from the polar opposite end of the spectrum scratches an entirely different yet equally satisfying itch.

    Reply
  6. Heather
    September 3, 2016 at 12:42 am (8 months ago)

    OMG You are hysterical!

    Reply

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