Regrets, I Have a Few

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Many of my perfume regrets have one thing in common: I never smelled them first. I trusted the people who wrote the descriptions. I believed the copy, the reviews, the poetic shorthand that promised restraint, balance, or “just enough sweetness.” I assumed that when multiple experienced noses agreed on how something behaved, it would behave that way on me.  It turns out that trust was often misplaced, and my shelves are littered with the ghosts of blind buys that arrived sounding beautiful and left me disappointed.

Blind buys aren't the only perfume purchases I have bemoaned. Regret comes in many forms, including the heartbreak of lost or leaked bottles, the exasperation of customer-service nightmares, or simply the fading of excitement over time, as well as the betrayal of advertising copy.

Balmain Ambre Gris is Exhibit A in my shrine of blind-buy horrors. When it launched in 2008, it was spoken of as a salty amber, mysterious and coveted. I managed to snag a bottle from a discounter for about $60, a minor miracle, but the victory was short-lived. On my skin, Ambre Gris didn’t whisper elegance. It screamed bad breath. I’m talking the kind of olfactory assault that makes you imagine the scent of someone who forgot to brush, floss, and maybe even rinse for a week.

What I do not regret is selling that bottle on eBay for $250. The market may be irrational, but at least my nose is safe from smelling that smell on my skin again. Ambre Gris taught me two things: first, that blind-buy hubris can backfire spectacularly, and second, that capitalism has a sense of humor. (And, I must admit, that nearly 20 years later, the scent improved considerably, though not enough to keep it.) 

Eau de Boujee Verdant is Exhibit B. I am a sucker for green fragrances that are lush, leafy, and fresh, but I had completely forgotten that the “cactus” note in Verdant was actually crafted with Calone, a chemical I personally find horrid. The real reason I bought it? FOMO. I’d heard the On the Scent Podcast hosts raving about this British brand and felt like I needed to own something from Eau de Boujee. Shipping from the UK was $50, so I decided to go big: a full bottle of Verdant, travel sprays of the other three scents, and a candle. I wanted a taste of the hype, but what I got was a punch of synthetic cucumber and the faint, mocking laughter of my own impulses. (Two of the other scents remain in my collection, as does the candle, so all was not lost.)

Slice Society Snif is Exhibit C, and it broke my heart. The promise? Pizza. A fragrance that would summon mozzarella, dough, tomato sauce... all the comforting, greasy magic of a proper slice. What arrived instead was a cruel joke. For about ten glorious seconds, it hinted at tomato sauce, a fleeting whisper of what might have been. Then came a yeasty note that smelled far more like beer than bread, as if some sad tavern ghost had wandered into my bottle. And then, just when I thought it might recover, BAM! Tart blackcurrants hit, merciless and uninvited, leaving not a trace of pizza behind. I wore it once and never touched it again. Now I'm even afraid to try fragrances with a prominent blackcurrant note.

Akro Awake is Exhibit D, the coffee fragrance that should have awakened my senses but instead gave me nothing but regret. It’s technically accurate: the promised coffee, cardamom, and lemon notes are all present, but the vetiver dominates with the subtlety of a jackhammer. Wearing it felt like enduring a caffeine headache trapped in a glass bottle. It was sharp, spiky, and totally relentless. Every inhale reminded me that just because a fragrance hits all the right notes on paper doesn’t mean your nose will agree. I sampled it, thought I liked it, bought it, and realized my nose had been playing a joke on me.

Guerlain Spiritueuse Double Vanille is Exhibit E, a regret of the heartbreakingly subtle variety. I adored this smoky, rich vanilla so much that I treated it like a treasure: kept it in its original box, stored carefully in a plastic bin alongside other fragrances, and decanted in tiny amounts into a smaller bottle to use at will. But eventually, life got busy, and I didn’t touch it for a while. When I was ready to decant a little more, I discovered the horror. The screw cap had betrayed me and the liquid had leaked, leaving nothing but a smear of residue in the bottle. Years of love, care, and obsessive rationing, gone! (Yes, I cried.) 

I thought this fragrance was expensive when I bought it, but it now costs twice as much. Sadly, it will never again be part of my collection--unless some rich benefactor comes my way.

Ormonde Jayne Ambre Royal is Exhibit F, and its regret lies not in the scent itself but in the Kafkaesque nightmare of getting it. I had smelled the line years ago and remembered loving Ambre Royal, so when a coupon made a 30ml bottle affordable, I snapped it up. Shipping from the UK was fast, but my excitement curdled the moment I opened the package and found that they sent the wrong fragrance.

The website promised a smooth exchange if I notified them within 14 days. I emailed the same day. Five days later, nothing. I emailed again. Five more days later, the message had been read but ignored. Third email. A few days after that, I finally got a reply. They’d agree to exchange it. Around the same time, Black Friday sales started, and I realized 50ml of Ambre Royal was now $30 cheaper than the 30ml I had not yet received. I tried negotiating a creative solution: send me the 50ml plus another fragrance at the sale price, bill me the difference.

By the time the correct order arrived, about a month and a half later, after approximately 18 emails, I no longer wanted it. I haven’t even worn it. Ambre Royal remains, unopened, a trophy of bureaucracy and lost enthusiasm.

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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.

Good News! Sorta...

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When I was in New York in January, I noticed that Macy's not only had a Guerlain counter, but a Guerlain counter that offered their super pricey L'Art & la Matière collection. As I wandered, I noticed other high-end brands like Byredo, Acqua di Parma, and Balmain. I was impressed.

Then I spoke to the sales associates.

At the Guerlain counter, I asked if they had any Eau de Coton, from the Les Matières Confidentielles line. The SA looked confused. Scanned the bottles on display. Opened a few drawers and had me look inside them. "Do you see it?" She pointed to a couple bottle of Les Colognes that were tucked away. "Are these it?"

No. They weren't it.

At the Acqua di Parma counter, I was excited to finally try Buongiorno, a bright herbal-citrus scent. The SA was excited to have a customer, so he kept offering to spray different scents on blotters for me. (Note to SAs everywhere--most of us are perfectly capable of doing that ourselves.) Unfortunately, I had no idea what he was spraying, because he butchered the pronunciation of every single one of them.

Annoyed, I drifted off and spotted Balmain. I had already sniffed their scents at Bergdorf Goodman last summer, but thought I'd give them another go. 

I asked the SA if Balmain was part of the store's expansion of high-end brands, or if they had brought them in because Balmain Beauty was part of the Estee Lauder empire. He didn't know that Balmain Beauty was an EL company and waved that off as "some new gossip going around." (The collaboration between the two companies started in 2022.) He also didn't know that Ivoire had originally been launched in 1979. Sadly, the Ivoire launched in 2024 in no way resembles the original. The same is true of Vent Vert, which now opens with an almost rotten-smelling vegetal note, which may just be how my nose interprets the chemical Calypsone. (Which, according to Frangrantica, "smells ozonic, like sea breeze, with fruity watermelon nuances." Sounds like Calone to me, and we all know how much I like that one. [puking emoji])

I walked out of Macy’s irritated, not dazzled. Yes, it’s impressive that they’re carrying luxury fragrance now, at least at the New York flagship, but it’s hard to take the effort seriously when no one behind the counter seems to know what they’re selling.

High-end perfume isn’t just a price tag and a glossy display. If Macy’s wants to play in the luxury space, they need to do more than stock expensive bottles and hope for the best. Train your sales associates. Teach them the names, the lines, the legacies. Otherwise, this isn’t a luxury experience. It’s just a very expensive scavenger hunt, staffed by people who don’t know what they’re looking for either.

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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.

The Year in Perfume: 2025

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Looking back at 2025 through the fragrances I wore feels a little like reading a diary written in scent. I tracked every spray, sample, decant, and layering combination and was surprised to find which scents I reached for most often. Not surprisingly--as I tend to wear warmer scents in the winter and lighter ones in summer--some weeks were vanilla and warm, others bright, green, and a bit tomato-y. 

What was most interesting to me was that my most-grabbed scents were all purchased in 2025. Byredo Gypsy Water (15 wears) was my number one scent of the year, followed by 1907 Vanilla Dry and Liis Ethereal Wave (12 wears each), and Chanel Paris-Edimbourg and Escentric Molecules Molecule 01+Mandarin (8 wears each). These kept showing up, week after week, season after season. They were comforting, reliable companions, and both Paris-Edimbourg and Molecule 01+Mandarin layer fabulously. 

Amusingly, I didn't even like Vanilla Dry or Ethereal Wave when I first tried them. One sample test each and they were rejected. Months later, I gave them second tries and fell in love. Funny how that happens.

I also flirted a lot. Some perfumes I wore only a couple of times: Marissa Zappas Annabel’s Birthday Cake, Lush Turmeric Latte, Bond No.9 Andy Warhol Silver Factory. Not because I don't love them. I recently purchased the Zappas scent and plan to wear it more in the winter. I bought the Lush scent just before Spring and found it too rich to wear in warm weather. I tucked it away with my holiday-appropriate fragrances and realized in December that it will be perfect to wear in the upcoming months. As for the Bond scent, well, I fall in love with it every time I put it on. I just don't know why that doesn't happen particularly frequently. 

And then there was layering. The early months of the year were almost ridiculous, thanks to ChatGPT offering some surprisingly good (and occasionally disastrous) suggestions. Poivre Piquant over Trudon Revolution and Indult Rêve en Cuir? Definitely…a lot.

Seasonally, my rotation tells its own story. Winter was vanilla, amber, and gourmands, for that cozy and comforting feel. Spring brought florals, lighter musks, and a bit of freshness. Summer smelled of citrus, green, and light woody scents. Fall really marked the transition between the warmer temperatures of September and the chill of December. 

Looking at it all together, I realized that perfume doesn't just decorate life, it marks time, mood, and memory. Some weeks were vanilla and warm, some bright and citrusy, some layered beyond reason, but all of them were uniquely mine. Perfume didn’t tell the whole story of 2025, but it told a quieter, smellier one—and sometimes that’s the one I prefer.

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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.

A Favorite: Chanel Les Exclusifs No. 18

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Chanel Les Exclusifs No. 18

Ambrette (Musk Mallow), Iris, Rose, Geranium, White Musk

I have to admit, Chanel No. 18 isn’t a fragrance that comes up in everyday conversation. It’s one of those Les Exclusifs gems that hides in plain sight. It's less famous than No. 5, Coco, or No. 19, but quietly brilliant. And after spending some serious time with it over the last several years, I can see why.

No. 18 is a musky, aromatic, slightly metallic fragrance that feels both classic and modern. It’s perfect for anyone who likes their perfume refined, intimate, and a little unexpected. This scent is built around ambrette seed, a musky, slightly carrot-y ingredient that smells clean, luminous, and very skin-like. Add iris, and you get this cool, slightly metallic shimmer that lifts the musk without softening it too much. The result is a fragrance that is cold, clean, entirely unisex, and never feels like it’s trying too hard. 

What’s most striking about No. 18 is its subtlety. It’s never loud or flashy. If it was a color, it would be a silvery grey. It’s the type of scent that rewards close attention, an intimate fragrance that you don’t notice across the room, but when you do, it lingers in your memory. Some people even call it “like freshly washed skin,” and I’d argue that’s not far off. But it’s also luminous, and just a little mysterious.

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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.