Still More Unpopular Opinions: Why Fragrance Collecting Isn’t a Sport

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Your nose is not a scoreboard. Smell what you love, not what impresses Instagram.

It’s Not a Competition.

Scrolling through Instagram accounts of fragrance collectors, I sometimes feel like I’ve stumbled into the Olympics of Perfume Ownership. “I have this rare bottle!” “I have that one too!” Cool story, bro, but… why are we racing to see who can hoard the most scents? Perfume should delight the senses, not fuel a flexing contest.

“Smellmaxxing” is for children, and kind of rude. Seriously, why would a grown adult want to announce their presence like a foghorn of fragrance? I don’t want to smell you before I see you. I don’t want your perfume following me around like a persistent shadow. Smelling more (not better) than the next person shouldn’t be a sport

Top 5 lists are nonsense. When a blogger declares “The 5 Best Fragrances for Women/Men/Everyone,” just remember: what’s best for them isn’t necessarily best for you. Our noses are wildly subjective. Some people are anosmic to specific notes; others may find a beloved note unbearable. Personal taste trumps algorithmic approval every time.

Example: “After hearing about this perfume for years, I finally got a sample. Everyone said it was amazing, captivating, unique. What did I get? Sweet alcohol. I almost blind-bought it, and I’m so glad I didn’t.”

Perfume should be fun, personal, and guilt-free. It's not a competition, a weapon, or a checklist. Enjoy what you love, and leave the scoreboard at the door. Having 200 bottles doesn’t make your collection twice as good as someone’s 100. It just makes your storage situation worse. (Ask me how I know.)

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.

Another Unpopular Opinion: Smell for Yourself

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Why I Test Perfume the Way I Do

I overheard a conversation recently that made me a little sad. The speakers were all knowledgeable, talented writers and content creators who, when testing a perfume for the first time, admitted that their first thought is usually, “How can I use this in my content?” before even considering whether they personally like the fragrance. One even said they rarely think, “Do I like it? Would I wear it?” The tone implied these questions were trite, or worse, slightly problematic.

Call me shallow, but when I test a new fragrance, “Do I like it?” is the first and most important thought in my head. Unless I’ve chosen to write about a perfume, which, 99% of the time, I already own, I don’t overthink it. I don’t analyze it, study the backstory, or marvel at how gorgeous the bottle would look on my bureau. I focus on the juice itself.

Buckets of Fragrance
Sure, I ask a few follow-up questions: What do I like about it? What don’t I like? Maybe I’ll think: If I don’t like it now, could I like it in the future? (Summer is rough on sweet gourmands. Sometimes they literally make me gag. But in December? Magic.) Then the fragrance lands in one of three buckets:

• Like

• Could Like

• Hate, Get This Far Away From Me

Life’s Too Short
I’m turning 60 this year and have been seriously collecting fragrances for over 20 years. Life is too short to waste on challenging myself to like something just because it’s “classic” or trendy. I’m in this hobby for me.

And in my opinion, the only people who might reasonably challenge themselves are those who make or sell perfume for a living: perfumers and fragrance professionals. They benefit directly from the fragrances. Writers, bloggers, enthusiasts? Not so much.

The Humorous Side of Flowery Descriptions
Even when I do write about a fragrance, I rarely dive into its historical significance or the perfumer’s biography. That doesn't affect how I feel about a scent.

And I don’t indulge in flowery, over-the-top imagery like, “This fragrance smells like a young English woman in white lace, resting languorously in a hammock on vacation in Majorca.”
For someone like me who has never worn lace, never relaxed in a hammock, never been to a beach outside Ocean City, Maryland, that description means… what exactly? (Sweat and dead fish? Close enough.)

A Personal Hobby
Fragrance collecting and wearing is a personal hobby. It’s delightful if others like the same scents, fine if they don’t. But ultimately, I could not care less about other people’s opinions on what I wear.

What does matter is this: if someone is making a list of “Best Fragrances That Smell Like European Beaches,” shouldn’t they at least briefly consider whether they like the scent themselves? Otherwise, how is it “the best”? (We all know that’s just a way to project authority in a completely subjective space. Huge dislike.)

Smell First, Think Later
So yes, call me shallow. But in the world of fragrance, I smell first, think later. And I like it that way.

Because fragrance collecting is about what you love, not what everyone else tells you to.

Plain and Not-So-Plain Vanilla

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Vanilla is a real crowd-pleaser, both as a flavor and a fragrance. A study a few years ago even claimed the scent of vanilla was a major turn-on for men. Women love it too, so it’s no surprise that vanilla turns up in many, if not most, perfumes. It’s warm, grounding, and beautifully neutral. Vanilla can be sweet or dry, take center stage or linger quietly in the background.

Below are a few of my favorite (and not-so-favorite) explorations of vanilla in perfume.

BDK Parfums Vanilla Leather

Violet, Pink Pepper, Tuberose, Orange Blossom, Jasmine, Vanilla, Orris, Leather, Benzoin, Oak, Patchouli

This is a lovely fragrance, but honestly, I don’t think there’s enough leather here to justify the name. Your mileage may vary, of course. On my skin, the floral notes, especially tuberose and jasmine, take the lead, slowly wrapped in a cloud of vanilla warmth. “Vanilla Tuberose” might’ve been a more accurate name, actually. It’s pretty, it’s soft, and that’s about it. Definitely tuberose, probably vanilla. The end.

Electimuss Vanilla Edesia

Bergamot, Mandarin, Bitter Almond, Heliotrope, Pink Pepper, Frankincense, Ceylon Cinnamon, Cumin, Coriander, Rose Centifolia Absolute, Gurjum Balsam, Ylang-Ylang, Creamy/Milky Notes, Vanilla Absolute, Patchouli, Cypriol, Haitian Vetiver, Sandalwood, Virginia Cedar, Amber Woods, White Musks

Vanilla Edesia is a challenging scent. It’s not gourmand at all, and it’s certainly not dominated by the vanilla in its name. Instead, it throws a lot at you—rose, citrus, cumin, coriander, pink pepper—all appearing in rapid succession. The rose and cumin linger, joined by an ashy, scratchy dryness I’m blaming on incense and woods. The result is a bit overwhelming, making it hard to find the vanilla here.

There’s a trace of warm sweetness (maybe that’s it?), but the cumin sticks around longest, thankfully without crossing into “dirty underpants” territory. It adds interest, if not comfort. I can’t decide if I like it… actually, no, I don’t. But it’s intriguing enough to include in a vanilla roundup. Worth a sniff, at least once.

Guerlain Spiritueuse Double Vanille

Incense, Pink Pepper, Bergamot, Cedar, Ylang-Ylang, Bulgarian Rose, Jasmine, Vanilla, Benzoin

This has long been my holy grail vanilla. It was love at first sniff during a breakfast presentation at Bergdorf’s one Sniffapalooza weekend. Back then, Guerlain’s L’Art et la Matière collection was pricey (~$200), but I had a generous perfume patron who’d just given me funds specifically for fragrance shopping.

For a while, SDV was the most expensive perfume I owned, and I babied it, decanting a few milliliters at a time into a travel spray so I wouldn’t risk breaking the bottle. I used maybe 30ml before tragedy struck: despite being stored properly, the box fell sideways, and about 98% of the remaining perfume leaked out. I didn’t even smell it at first, just found the bottle nearly empty and my heart utterly broken.

It’s $440 now (gulp), which is about $250 more than I’m willing to pay for a replacement. But oh, that scent… dark, rich, spicy, smoky, and sexy. Boozy and intoxicating. A vanilla for grown-ups. It's not shy, not sugary, just gloriously decadent.

Apparently it’s been reformulated, and newer reviews call it “plain vanilla” or “weak.” If true, that’s a damn shame. The original 2007 version was truly special. I haven’t dared revisit it (why torture myself with something I can’t afford?), but I’ll keep hoping the naysayers are just missing its magic.

Obvious Parfums Une Vanille

Tonka, Madagascar Vanilla, Musk

Some vanilla perfumes can be tooth-achingly sweet, but Une Vanille isn’t one of them. Like most of Obvious’s early scents, it’s quite linear. What you smell at first spray is what you get until it fades. On my skin, that’s until bath time.

It’s a lightly musky, powdery vanilla with a generous dose of tonka, warm and cozy but never cloying. It’s one of the few vanillas I can comfortably wear in warmer weather.

I also own Un Patchouli and Un Musc, and I’ll likely buy more from the brand. I love their ethics: minimal, eco-friendly packaging, recyclable glass, no unnecessary cellophane, and corks sourced from wine industry byproducts. Ostentatious packaging for no good reason drives me up the wall, and I’ll be ranting about that in an upcoming post.

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks

What I've Been Wearing So Far in 2025: May through August

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I thought it would be fun (and a little nerdy) to keep track of what I’ve actually been wearing this year. Back in the first few months, I clocked 101 different scents (yes, really). For May through August, things calmed down a bit: just 65 perfumes made it onto my skin.

Some were one-offs or samples (31 of them, to be exact), but a handful of fragrances became steady companions. Two, in fact, I wore ten times each. That's like a long-term relationship for a promiscuous perfumista like me:

• Liis Ethereal Wave--started as a humble sample, graduated to a decant, and finally earned its full-bottle crown.

• 1907 Vanilla Dry--a real plot twist. I didn’t even like it when I first sniffed it last fall. But this spring? Instant love. It’s vanilla cushioned with coconut, though it never tips into “beachy cocktail.” To my nose it’s firmly vanilla, and somehow it never feels cloying, even in hot weather.

Other scents pulled me back again and again: Heeley Palm (nine times—watery, tropical, green, very coconut-forward), Byredo Gypsy Water (eight times—my most-worn of the year so far, with twelve total wears), and Escentric Molecules Molecule 01 + Mandarin (seven times, easy to wear solo but great for layering).

And because I like to rotate in some old favorites, I reached for Fresh Hesperides Grapefruit (six times, still such a loss that it’s discontinued) and Hermès Jardin Sur le Nil (four times—more love than it’s had in years).

This was also a season of new arrivals. Some snuck in under the wire from Europe before the de minimis exemption disappeared: Vanilla Dry, Palm, Trudon Bruma, and Miller et Bertaux Tulsivivah!. Closer to home, I picked up Molecule 01 + Mandarin, Memo Eau de Memo, Vibiskov Eau Nature Rouge, and Ellis Brooklyn Salt (not worn during the period of study, but worn 2x since).

Now that fall is easing into the mid-Atlantic, I’m still spritzing my summer darlings, but the cozy fragrances are calling. I’m curious to see which bottles I lean on as the weather shifts. Will I keep stretching summer, or finally dive into autumn? Either way, I’ll be counting.

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.