Tuesday, December 6, 2011

SOTD: Chanel Coco

There are perfumes that I want to like. Chanel Coco. Chanel No. 5. Guerlain Mitsouko and Shalimar and Jicky--really, all of the older classic Guerlains. Walking away from the classics, I also want to love Tauer L'Air du Desert Marocain, Parfumerie Generale Bois de Copaiba, Frederic Malle Une Fleur de Cassie... the list could go on.

I've found the right time to wear these: When I'm grumpy or stressed or expecting a bad day. See, I don't want to wear my favorites at those times, and weigh them down with negative associations. And I don't want to wear no perfume, because any perfume I don't hate is still better than no perfume. And it's not as if I hate those perfumes, I just don't love them. So if I learn to hate them, so be it. If I learn to love them, spiffy.

So today I wore Coco. I've mentioned that my main issue with it seems to be association with someone that I can't remember but apparently didn't like. I'm guessing that enough wearings will wipe that out. The other issue is that tiny tiny bit of fruitiness that I get behind the spices. The fruit that offends me isn't orange--I see that in notes lists, but I don't smell it, and it wouldn't bother me. At least one review mentions peach, and I think that's it. I like peach, but for me all of Coco's other notes belong to winter--oranges are a winter fruit to me--and that bit of fresh stone fruit clashes with them.

I suspect that I'd like Coco better if I'd never smelled Coco Mademoiselle. Just the sight of the Coco Mademoiselle bottle, with all that pink juice in it, makes me recoil. I can smell the pink in the perfume as well. And there's just enough Coco in Coco Mademoiselle to reverse-contaminate the parent in my memory's nose--when I smell Coco I get a memory of the pink. But I'll keep wearing it now and then; I'm confident that I'll grow fond of it in time.

I wore No. 5 the other day, pure parfum from that set of tiny (1/8 oz?) bottles that Chanel comes out with at Christmas, one I bought about five years ago. That was more successful; I like the otherworldly, don't-mess-with-me mood of No. 5. I can't pick out a single real-world note; I know that there are flowers in there, but they don't present themselves as flowers. It is, in fact, weird--the likely most famous perfume in the world is weird. I like that.

Image: By David Scelfo. Wikimedia Commons.

9 comments:

Olfacta said...

You're right! Ch5 IS weird.

Joan said...

I like Coco Mademoiselle. I don't adore it, but it smells femmey and sharp at the same time.

Have you tried Chanel No. 5 Eau Premiere?

Joan said...

I like Coco Mademoiselle. I don't adore it, but it smells good: femmey and sharp at the same time.

Have you tried Chanel No. 5 Eau Premiere?

ChickenFreak said...

Hey, Olfacta! Yes! This is proof that perfumery is _supposed_ to be weird!

OK, maybe not, but I'll interpret it that way anyway.

ChickenFreak said...

Yo, Joan! I wish I liked Coco Mademoiselle, but I just can't.

No, I keep meaning to try Eau Premiere, and I keep forgetting. The next time I'm in a department store with a decent perfume department, I really need to remember.

Abigail said...

Hey, where'd you get a pic of my cat. That's Payton! She was (RIP) a Havana Brown. A gorgeous creature.

Vanessa said...

I loved the notion of Coco Mlle "reverse contaminating" its parent - brilliant! And a most plausible theory. Mrs Bonkers Snr wears this one (thanks to my introduction) and it feels a bit heavy and dated on me, but I do quite like it. I guess I find the Opium flankers Fleur de Shanghai and Poesie de Chine (in similar vein), lighter and more "me".

ChickenFreak said...

Hey, Abigail! That cat picture came from Wikimedia Commons; isn't she beautiful?

ChickenFreak said...

Yo, Vanessa! I was a tiny bit afraid that No. 19 Poudre might contaminate its parent in the same way, but luckily it (1) wasn't horrible, (2) wasn't pink, and (3) I love No. 19 so much that it's probably not possible to destroy it in my mind.

Hmm. I should try those flankers.

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