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Dear Olivia:
First, let me say that I am a huge fan of your work. When the first fall clouds start to roll in, I arm myself with Tea for Two and let the rain fall. When I’m on another iffy blind date, I show my personality and strength (and just plain feel good) with a dose of Dzing!. Premier Figuier was the first fragrance that really opened my eyes to the possibilities of scent, how a fragrance’s first breath can even tell the dirt on the fig tree’s roots. Thé pour un Eté, Passage d’Enfer, En Passant, Safran Troublant….your oeuvre boggles the mind.
But every artist has the occasional dry spell — especially one working as hard as you do, and I want to make sure that you are always fixed with ideas. So, with my compliments, please file these away:
Cottonwood Morning, or, if you prefer, Matin du Cottonwood: The sweet, leafy wood scent of cottonwoods by the river, just as the sun begins to warm them. The pioneers called cottonwoods “Bam” trees, shorthand for “Balsam of Gilead”, shorthand for a fragrance that mixes nature with heaven.
Eau du Kitty: You might have to find a specialty house to launch this one, but I guarantee it would be a blockbuster. Capture, if you can, the smell of pure love that you get when you bury your nose in the fur of a clean, happy cat. (Some people might substitute “baby’s head” for “cat”.) I wouldn’t mess around with dog smell. On a good day, my dog smells like a bag of Fritos.
Entre Nous: Remember that fabulous Diane Kurys movie, Entre Nous, where the two heroines, good friends, sit on a picnic blanket? It is a summer afternoon in the 1950s, and they talk about the war and their husbands, and wonder about their future. Listening to her friend, one of the women dips her finger in a glass of wine and dabs it behind her ears. She talks and laughs. Bottle that one.
Weekend au Lac: O.K., imagine waking up in a cabin by a lake in Montana. It’s a cold morning, but in the other room someone has made a fire in the wood stove and has started coffee. The chill scent of the lake and pine trees permeates the room, but you are cozy under a pile of quilts. I’d say that someone is frying bacon for breakfast, but pork might just be too much for this perfume. But hey, you’re the artist.
Aged Volkswagen: I’m thinking of the special combo of ancient rubber, oil, and horsehair — even though a Volkswagen shouldn’t have horsehair in it — that permeates an old bug, especially when it’s warm. You could always add the complexity of an abandoned cup of Coca Cola under the seat or a box of vegetables from the CSA in the back. The windows are rolled down, and someone spilled a bottle of Coppertone.
This should get you started. Once you’re finished with these, if you’re really ambitious, you can work on In the back of the Little Debbie Snack Cake Truck. All I ask is for a large fragrance bottle of the finished product.
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