May I call you ‘Bleu’?
We don’t know each other that well, you and I, but I wish to make amends. Hopefully by the end of this letter we will become better acquainted.
I know this may come out of the blue to you, dear Bleu, but I am an insufferable snob. It’s hard to believe, I know, but when it comes to perfume I demand the very best – something unusual just for me. I guess I just don’t want to smell like all the other guys, because I’m not like all of the other guys, you see, which has left you in the position of being unfairly overlooked.
You tell men that they should ‘be extraordinary’ (it’s right there in your tagline), but on the surface I felt that there was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about you, in fact ‘ordinary’ would have summed up my feelings about you quite succinctly. I don’t mean to be harsh or cutting, you understand, but my apology would not be meaningful if I didn’t explain, in full, how we got here.
You see, Bleu, I’ve always longed for something different when it comes to fragrance. I’ve wanted to smell fabulous – to be scented in an unconventional way and to draw attention with my olfactory exploits. Well, I should say that I used to demand something different. Now I’m at that point in my fragrant journey where I can appreciate something that simply smells good, whether it is astoundingly unique or entirely conventional. It is with this fresh point of view and a less snobbish nose that I approached you once again, my dear Bleu.
From what I’ve gathered, you’re a top notch guy, one of the finest quality, with excellent genetics. You sparkle with good humour, like the shimmer of the zest from fresh fruits, such as lemons and grapefruits, with a naughty, mischievous touch of spice. You are smart, handsome and incredible easygoing. You’re solid and warm too, like sandalwood and amber, with a personality that is robust, faithful and comforting. Handsome, charming and personable? Perhaps I’m a little bit jealous. Yes, maybe that’s it. I mean, you are one of those sporty chaps, one with a designer gym bag and the latest trainers, whereas I’m, well, the opposite of that; averse to sports (I’d argue that I was allergic) and magnetically-opposed to fitting in with ‘the lads’. But we’re not here to talk about my insecurities now, are we?
I know you’re a popular guy and you probably give zero hoots as to whether I appreciate you or not because, let’s face it, you have plenty of fans so it’s unlikely that missing my adoration will have ever even entered your consciousness, but please humour me for just a few moments more.
You have reminded me that, whilst innovation, uniqueness, weirdness and difference are all wonderful things to have in perfumery, they are nothing if the end result does not smell good. In fact, first and foremost, a fragrance should do exactly that – it should smell good and in that respect, you’re nothing but a winner because you smell very good, Bleu, very good indeed
Bleu, all that is left to say, now that I have grovelled profusely on bended knee, is that I underestimated you and this shall be the very last time that I do such a thing. This lifelong perfume nerd will cease to be a snob and he shall allow himself to simply trust his nose in future. When something smells good there is no hiding from it, and I shall hide no more.
The Candy Perfume Boy
(But you can call me ‘Candy’ – we are friends now, after all.)
The Bleu de Chanel Eau de Parfum Travel Spray pictured in this post is available in 3x20ml refills of Eau de Parfum for £70.
Sample via CHANEL. Images are my own.