I own this solely because of the description in the Guide – raspberry something something, the bluish glow of lights beneath a train something something L’Heure Bleue. I thought it would devastate me. I wanted to be wrung out by this perfume.
It is an important lesson to me on several fronts, but especially this: flights of the imagination can be moving when described by excellent writers (as Sanchez and Turin inarguably are) but the emotional experience rarely transfers. And though I can never truly regret being moved by a poem as personal as this review, in retrospect, a plainly-worded description of what Sacrebleu smells like would have served me better.
Because what it actually smells like is why I want to get rid of it. Sacrebleu is a big, spicy bubblegum white floral that feels as old-fashionedly ‘perfumey’ as Opium or Coco but prematurely aged in a way that makes me think of those bottles of perfume available in the pharmacies of Ireland in the late eighties and early nineties, like Lentheric Lace, White Satin, Charlie, Vanderbilt, and L’Aimant. Perfume for aunties.
Whenever I wear it, I feel like I’m rummaging around in Miss Hetty’s carpet bag, full of spilled stale cosmetic powers, half-chewed Hubba Bubba, and lint, hoping for even a lava lamp burp of the emotional charge (I felt was) promised by the review. When my bottle of Sacrebleu Intense failed to deliver, I sold it and searched for a really expensive bottle of the original formula. Same result.
I could go into more detail about the gummy yet bitter tuberose, the fruity note that could be peach or raspberry or whatever fantasy fruit goes into blue ice-cream, the crumbling decrepitude of its carnation, or the choking thickness that makes me think of peanut butter. But there’s no point. This is just not for me, it doesn’t evoke any special feeling in me, and I don’t like it. I don’t owe it (or the world) an explanation.
Cover image: Photo by Jodie Morgan on Unsplash
I am thoroughly enjoying these reviews. At least these perfumes are accomplishing that much!
Thank you! After I press publish, I worry a bit that I’m being a bit too negative. But it feels freeing to decide whether to keep or get a rid of a fragrance according to my personal taste alone, without worrying I am slaying a sacred cow or something.
This is so nice to hear! I never did manage to smell Sacrebleu but I’ve always felt like I was missing something because of that review, possibly the most evocative in the guide and one I’ve read aloud more than once to try to explain my love of fragrance. I can let it go now!
Ah brilliant, glad to be of service! And yes, that review was also one of the reasons I fell under the spell of perfumery. I find it hard to explain to people who view fragrance purely as an extension of personal grooming, so your idea of reading out that review to convince them is a really good one, and I may steal it.