I once hated patchouli with a passion, and I blame Jefferson Airplane. No, really.
Okay, let’s back up a little bit. Back in the Sixties I was just a couple of years too young to join a commune and become a full-fledged hippie. I envied my two older sisters whose relative independence meant that they could go with an older crowd, and they fell in with a group of what passed for hippies in our small town, hanging out and doing nothing all except studiously avoiding being under the thumb of The Man. Then one day, my own chance to be “with it” finally arrived – a real and very famous rock group was going to give a concert at our local state college! I picked out my grooviest outfit and prepared for a fab experience that I could tell all my less plugged-in friends about. After all, who would not want to be in with all the really cool people?
When the night finally arrived, it was not quite what I expected. My first real rock concert was a very smelly affair, and so loud that I literally got sick, but I couldn’t leave because someone else was my ride. Before long the hall was filled with gag-inducing pot smoke, which I had never smelled before (yes, I was sheltered) and the odor of unwashed bodies heavily anointed with patchouli oil. I suffered through an interminable opening act until Grace Slick finally sang “Somebody To Love” and then I went all the way to the back, crawled under the bleachers and lay down with my arms wrapped around my head until it was mercifully over. So strong was this unpleasant association that even the faintest whiff of patchouli after that night made me feel ill. I enjoyed many other aspects of Sixties including incense (I loved sandalwood, still do) and even the fashions, but I never embraced either wearing patchouli or the idea of not bathing, and to me they were always intertwined.
Jefferson Airplane Somebody To Love
Then the Seventies backlash arrived and mainstream perfumes were all about soft, misty florals and romance; remember Le Jardin and Jontue? I wore pretty, innocuous fragrances like Fabergé Babe and Coty Muguet de Bois. When Anaïs Anaïs came out, I had recently moved to the city and I fell utterly in love with it, and I wore it almost exclusively for a long time. Its very good acolyte, the original Jessica McClintock, also found room in my little collection. Then the Eighties hit, everything got BIG and Giorgio Beverly Hills took over the world. I never wore that but it was unavoidable anyway, and unfortunately this new trend also coincided with the advent of the department store perfume hazing, where you ran the risk of getting sprayed with something when you walked in the door whether you liked it or not. One of the big fragrances of the times, in every sense of the word, was Paloma Picasso Mon Parfum, a massive sillage monster of considerable beauty but which was over-applied by far too many people. This one carried a big wallop of patchouli too, so even though it was a far lesser evil than Giorgio or Dior’s Poison, I could not really admit to myself that I liked it.
Then one day my life changed when a new perfume shop opened in my city, and I went in the door only to come out five hours later with a whole new world opened up to me. You see, that little shop was The Perfume House and it was chock full of the real deal – classic French fragrances I had never seen before or even heard of, for that matter – Caron, Jean Patou, Rochas, Balmain, Guerlain, Givenchy, and so many more. (Up to this point most of my exposure to fine perfumery was the ever-present Shalimar at the department stores, and I did not care for it much, but of course that eventually changed too.) The owner of the store took me on a world tour of fine perfumes, and I was drawn to certain ones that were exciting and mysterious and like nothing else I had ever smelled before, iconic greats like Rochas Femme, Grès Cabochard and Shocking by Elsa Schiaparelli. What were these amazing, dark elixirs that could not be further from my tender floral favorites? Little did I know that I had just fallen under the spell of the chypre family of fragrances; I did not even know how to pronounce it back then.
On my first visit to this shop, I came way with a very pretty and feminine perfume, but when that ran out, I went for the hard stuff the next time – the original Scherrer by Jean-Louis Scherrer, a monumental green chypre that was about as sophisticated as it is possible for a fragrance to be, Sharp and severe and ever so elegant with galbanum and bergamot and laden with resinous labdanum and a delicious overload of oakmoss, it owed much of its mesmerizing beauty to…patchouli. Yes, that’s right – all these fierce and beautiful scents that had me under their spell were classic chypres, and part of their essential character was the dry, almost dusty base that relied on oakmoss and patchouli to create this unique effect. I was hooked and there was no going back.
My appreciation of the chypre genre has led to my gradual acceptance of patchouli in other fragrances until I was finally ready to experience it in heavier concentrations. It does not always work for me – I think I could possibly wear Bois 1920 Real Patchouly but I am still tiptoeing around Serge Lutens Bornéo 1834, which is pretty intense even for a “patch” lover. I am collecting vintage Balmain Jolie Madame. I have fallen hard for the black pepper-patchouli-rose wonder that is Grès Cabaret and even harder for Une Folie de Rose from Parfums de Rosine, the epitome of a rose chypre for me. I also have a little secret; I recently added a mini of Paloma Picasso Mon Parfum, the huge Eighties rose chypre I avoided for so long, to my growing collection of this style of scent; it can be quite wearable when not applied with a fire hose, and it’s actually very elegant.
I have finally come to realize that my problem with patchouli was not with the material itself per se, but with the clumsy handling it too frequently receives. In the right hands it can add character and depth to a perfume without hogging the spotlight, and even when it is the focal point, it does not have to smell like a mildewed gym sock. Coming to this understanding has broadened my fragrance knowledge and made me appreciate many perfumes I would not even have thought of trying before. I no longer fear the Green Monster!
Perfume Pharmer thanks Donna Hathaway for her Patchouli Fable and is so happy for her that she was able to come to embrace an aroma that she previously found so distasteful.
PEACE-LOVE-AND-PATCHOULI everyone!
XOXO Monica Miller, Pharm Marm and Patch Test Community Organizer.
Image credits: Cranky LOLcat from icanhascheezburger.com
Group of colorfully attired hippies from cracked.com
Jefferson Airplane album cover from whompingstereo.com
Actress Joan Collins as Alexis Morell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan on the television series Dynasty from stylelist.com
Vintage Rochas Femme magazine ad from headtotoefashionart.com
Jean-Louis Scherrer perfume bottle from perfumela.com
Jewelry designer and style icon Paloma Picasso in profile from macklowegallery.com
YouTube Video clip of Jefferson Airplane: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfV33HwWkVQ
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{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }
Chypre eh….Ive often wonderd why this particular perfume group appeals to so many people…I’ve never really found one I truly like…something about the combo always seems to include dry notes that I just don’t like….Maybe I need to have another look….
It is amazing how patchouli can change depending on what it is blended with…..
I thoroughly enjoyed this write-up on patchouli…
It was equal to a piece of cake
Sally
xo
Donna,
I can see you in the concert, in my head. You poor thing, no wonder you hated Patchouli!
I got a kinder introduction to patchouli, as my husband, when we first met, wore it “neat” on his neck.
Purr and growl! There was something so intoxicating about the marriage of his personal man smell, and the patchouli.
Glad that you’ve been able to overcome that first time with the Green Monster.
Wow. I thoroughly enjoyed your descriptive journey through the fragrance world. I don’t imagine ‘unwashed bodies’ can do anything a service. Patchouli is such a great base for other lovely scents. BO is not exactly one of them, hahaha
Great article! I trip down memory lane.
Chypre fragrances are “how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb” too. You mentioned so many fragrances I love! I just got a mini of the Scherrer EdP, and it is amazing.
Peace, love and patchouli right back at ya!
Ambrosia, maybe you just haven’t met the right chypre yet….;-)
Thank you, Sally! It was a fun trip down memory lane for me!
Amanda, I can remember it all too clearly myself! Your experience sounds MUCH better!
Thank you, Opalescent! I could not agree more. I know that Western perfumes were once used to cover up other odors, both of the wearer and in their surroundings, but I prefer to start with a “clean slate” myself.
JoanElaine, I am so glad you enjoyed it. Isn’t that Scherrer fabulous? I am still madly in love with it to this day and I am grabbing up all the vintage I can – I simply cannot have too much oakmoss in my life!
Ohhhhhh dear. The Green Monster…
I don’t have any Unwashed Hippie history with it. I just flat don’t LIKE it. I do better if it’s aged (which smells, oddly, very green and herbal instead of the dusty-earthy angle you get with the cheap stuff) and especially if it’s combined with rose.
I seem to be able to pick it out at very low percentages, though, and sometimes it can hijack my nose. Gres Cabaret is terrific, I love L’Arte di Gucci, I totally dig Lumiere Noire pour femme… still can’t wear Paloma and Idylle nearly knocked me over with patchouli. And a whiff of Borneo nearly killllllled me. Sigh.
Progress is being made.
Donna I loved this spirited meander through fragrance history.
As for patchouli and his polarizing effect, vetiver is my love-hate-frisson, much more than dear old patch…
What a fun, fun read. Loved reading that Chris was your special mentor. Thanks for such an enjoyable perfume story, Donna and Monica.