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The word "gourmand" refers to a person who enjoys eating and often eats too much. It's actually a negative term, akin to "glutton." One could use that term to describe me and not be wrong, but I'm not sure why it's applied to an inanimate object like perfume. It's not unusual for words to be appropriated to signify something vaguely adjacent to its original meaning, and "gourmand" has become the term for a family of perfumes that have sweet or "edible" notes like toffee and marshmallow.
There seems to be a real interest in sugary fragrances these days. Why? With influencers on Instagram and TikTok spreading the good-smelling news, there are more and more young consumers attracted to the world of perfume. Also, the preponderance of scents marketed by pop stars and celebrities like Ariana Grande, Billie Eilish, Sabrina Carpenter, and less-recently by Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Mariah Carey, and Paris Hilton, tend to be sugar bombs aimed at this younger audience. Some of these consumers will grow up with a preference for smelling like dessert, but for others, a candy-scented spritz might be the gateway drug to other fragrance families. But it's not only the young folks who go for treacly scents. Judging by the success of expensive marshmallow bombs like By Kilian Love Don't Be Shy and Parfums de Marly Oriana, there are folks of all ages (or at least people with more than just babysitting money) who enjoy indulging their olfactory sweet tooth.
It's widely accepted that Mugler's Angel, released in 1992, was the first modern gourmand fragrance, though I would argue that companies like Comptoir Sud Pacifique were making sugary fragrances in the 70s. Angel was groundbreaking in the use of sweet, non-vanilla, food notes like red berries, cotton candy, caramel, and chocolate. While Angel is definitely sweet and candy-like, there's also a bunch of other stuff going on, including a quite obvious dose of patchouli. I don't know about you, but I do not want to eat anything that smells or tastes of patchouli. Or woods, or jasmine, or any of the other notes that are combined with a pinch of sugar here and there in the many so-called gourmand perfumes on the market.
There doesn't seem to be a consensus as to what exactly constitutes a gourmand fragrance. The person who wrote the Wikipedia entry on the subject states:
A gourmand fragrance is a perfume consisting primarily of synthetic edible (gourmand) notes, such as honey, chocolate, vanilla or candy. These top and middle notes may be blended with non-edible base notes such as patchouli or musk.
Note their use of the word "primarily." They then go on to mention examples of what they consider to be other gourmand fragrances, including Calvin Klein Euphoria, and Viktor & Rolf's Antidote. Euphoria has a single whipped cream note and is a fruity ambree. There's nothing particularly sugary in Antidote, though it has spice and citrus notes, along with vanilla in the base. Most perfumes have citrus and/or vanilla notes (and rose), but that doesn't necessarily make them gourmands.
L'Artisan Parfumeur, too, includes scents with just a couple of food-y notes on their website's gourmand page, including: Mechant Loup (honey and praline notes); Noir Exquis (maple sap, coffee); Premier Figuier Extreme (fig, dried fruits); L'Eau D'Ambre (vanilla); and Histoire D'Orangers (um, nothing foody). As far as I'm concerned, their one truly gourmand scent was Traversee du Bosphore; its nougat, sugar, pistachio, honey, and rose base notes were very Turkish delight meets baklava. Sadly it was discontinued. It might have done really well in today's "I want candy" climate.
I suppose we're stuck with the term "gourmand" to describe scents on the saccharine side, whether or not they "consist primarily of edible notes." Gourmand fragrances should be mostly sweet food notes. In fact, I want to refine the use of the term to include only fragrances that are meant to smell like actual food and drink, perfumes that deliberately smell like cupcakes, candyfloss, hazelnut lattes, Bakewell tarts, scones smeared with lemon curd, or chocolate fudge brownies. Sugary food items in which gluttons like me enjoy indulging.
What about savory food notes? you ask. There are plenty of perfumes with cumin notes, and green scents with basil or herb notes. Without the sugary aspect, however, I don't consider a scent to be gourmand, even a scent like Snif Pie Society--a perfume that is meant to smell like pizza, with notes of crust and tomato sauce. While it has a vague yeasty aroma with a bit of tomato and basil at the opening, it soon turns into a hot mess. A fragrance like that deserves a new category: Novelty scents. They're interesting to sample, but not actually to wear.
My collection currently contains only three scents that I would consider to be "true" gourmands, that is, scents that are deliberately created to mimic the scents of sweet desserts, beverages, or confections. I own a few other sweet perfumes, including a couple of Angel flankers, but to me, they are just that--sweet perfumes. Not gourmands.
Cocoa, Coffee, Chocolate, Vanilla, Bitter Orange
This is supposed to smell like freshly baked "milk biscuits," with chocolate and orange. I'm not very familiar with this type of cookie, so I did an extensive 90-second google search. What I discovered is a cookie also known as a biscottoni, or an Italian breakfast cookie. The closest I've ever come to one of those is a Stella D'oro breakfast treat, which I must admit I've always liked. They're a bit vanilla/almond-y in flavor, IIRC. In any case, Bisquit does not smell like a baked cookie to me, as it lacks the toasty flour aroma. What it does smell like is sweet chocolate cake batter with a hint of orange and coffee. I normally don't gravitate toward chocolate fragrances--though I adore eating chocolate--because I find most cocoa or chocolate notes to be artificial-smelling, often with a peculiar dustiness. I dabbled with wearing Montale Chocolate Greedy for a minute, but I found it to be cloying and sickly on my skin. Bisquit, however, is just lovely. The chocolate smells like real chocolate, somewhere between milk and dark, with a good hint of vanilla. Because chocolate really isn't truly chocolate-y unless it's paired with vanilla. (Ever notice that every chocolate recipe also includes vanilla?) Bisquit is lovely, and it's also not tooth-achingly sweet.
Chabaud Lait et Chocolate
Jasmine, Chocolate, Cedar, Teak Wood, Vanilla, Musk, Milk
While this fragrance has jasmine, woody notes, and musk, it does not violate my rule that a gourmand fragrance should smell only of food. Lait et Chocolate smells of...lait et chocolate. There's a wee bit of brightness in the opening, from the jasmine, but that disappears quickly. The wood notes add a bit of backbone and longevity to the fragrance, but don't actually make it at all woody. Lait et Chocolate is a big mug of milk, warm and frothy, with a spoonful of Horlicks (malted milk powder) on the table next to it. Not in the milk, just near it. I don't get much chocolate at all. This is a very nice bedtime scent, soothing and comfy, but I also love it on a cold winter morning.
Theodoros Kalotinis Lemon Tart
Tart Crust, Vanilla Cream, Lemon Juice, Butter, Lemon Zest, Sugar
I've tried Akro Bake, and despite its rave reviews, it doesn't work on me. The lemon note turns into washing up powder or detergent on my skin--not all that gourmand or pleasant to my nose. Lemon Tart, on the other hand, has a zesty lemon note that is also creamy, and a bit buttery, too, like lemon curd. And there's a definite toasty pastry note in this fragrance as well. It's very much edible. Sometimes I like to ramp up the lemon with a spritz of Monotheme Venezia Boccioli di Limone on top.
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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
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.
