Thursday, January 22, 2009


Christopher Brosius' Manifesto.

I hate perfume.
Perfume is too often an ethereal corset trapping everyone in the same unnatural shape
A lazy and inelegant concession to fashionable ego
Too often a substitute for true allure and style
An opaque shell concealing everything – revealing nothing
A childish masque hiding the timid and unimaginative
An arrogant slap in the face from across the room
People who smell like everyone else disgust me

* * * * * * *

Perfume is a veil that reveals the soul
Perfume is the fanfare of our individuality sounding differently to everyone who listens
Perfume is a signpost to our true selves – a different journey for the brave to travel
Perfume is the weather of our inner world bringing life to a personal landscape
Perfume is an art that shows us who we can be if we dare – an invisible portrait of who we are
Perfume is discovered fully only by our lovers when we are together - naked

* * * * * * *

Do I agree with him? Yes. Terribly. Do I think that it is oxymoronic? Yes. How can one hate perfume for its lack of individuality and yet "mass" produce his scents to sell? I can't understand. Maybe it is just the thought of spreading his believes, that spur him to contain his "art" in a bottle.

Do I feel nostalgic when I smell "Winter 1972" or "At the Beach 1966"? Yes I do, I feel as though I were transported to that day and experiencing it with him. I love the feeling of familiarity in a bottle. It's amazing how scents can actually trigger the imagination. It makes me realise that it is possible to bottle an emotion.

Which do I love so far? "Teal Rose", "Winter 1972" and  "Russian Caravan tea". I must admit that I haven't smelled enough to comment on all the scents. However, the scents are true to their names. Spookily accurate. Why not put on "Gathering Apples" or "Burning Leaves" to intrigue your date? It just might make an excellent talking point.

The different scents available.

Gathering Apples.

Winter 1972.

Memory of Kindness.

Mr Hulot's Holiday.

At the Beach 1966.

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