Angela (Angie) Guess’ fragrant awakening was Histoires de Parfums 1969©
I can’t recall a time when I didn’t love scents, as far back as I can remember everything about them pleased me. All sorts of smells played a big part in my life, every person and every environment possessed a unique scent, most associated with specific feelings. Smells to comfort me, to make me smile, ones that made me wrinkle my nose, curious smells, unpleasant ones too. Most, if not all, of my earliest memories are intertwined with some sort of scent. My mother collected perfumes; I can still see the names and packages; Morny, Kenzo, Diorella, Moon Drops, Apple Blossom, Herbessence, so many others, arranged like an elegant army on her dresser. She was an amateur botanist and a self taught chef, so there were always a variety of unique smells associated with her. She would often have me smell plants or herbs, spices and dishes in the kitchen, “Angela, come smell this. What do you see?” was a phrase i have heard countless times in my life. To most people that wouldn’t make sense, but I see visuals and colors when i smell, as did my mother. Growing up that wasn’t odd or weird, it was simply how things were. My brothers didn’t smell colors nor did my father, but my mother, myself and my twin sister did so I assumed that this was a skill that belonged to girls.
Vintage Diorella EDT Ad 1972 courtesy of Dior
I had a unique upbringing, part of which was homeschooling, so I didn’t have many other children around. There weren’t frequent friends and therefore no sleepovers or play dates offering chances to talk about such things, I had no idea that other girls didn’t see smells. In many ways I was isolated as a child, not only via my family dynamic, but due to the area we lived. The Eastern Shore of Maryland is comprised of small enclaves, made up of extended families that have lived there for generations. My parents were both originally from New York and they eloped at a young age, living on communes for years and eventually settling in that tiny town, population 813 prior to our arrival. We were considered “imports” and “furriners” (foreigners) from “Off” which was what the locals deemed anyone who wasn’t related or born on the Shore. In reality my parents were “hippies” both before and long after it was “cool” and the odd lifestyle we lived, isolated us further from the local residents. The result being that I grew up in a beautiful location, but my life was confined to our home and property for the most part.
Sunset Over Marsh Dorchester County©
Through my teenage years I remember scent being a large part of my world, but my most intense memories are from when I was a very young girl. Not only do I remember the smell of my father’s Royal Lyme and my mother’s Diorella, wood stove smoke and salty marsh air, but in those days I lived in my own imagination creating my own smells. I would lock myself in my mothers bathroom, making potions and perfumes. A dollop of lotion, a few drops of this perfume, a shake of powder, a spray of another perfume, a bath cube, leaves and flower petals from the garden, all swirled in the bathroom sink. I would carefully mix and fill little bottles up with my concoctions, lost in a fantasy world that I remember vividly.
Ingredients and perfume bottles©
After I turned 18 and moved away from home, first to college and then on my own,I don’t think I was consciously aware that I had stopped simultaneously smelling and seeing my world, but it happened. Without realizing it, the fantastical process faded, I didn’t vividly smell colors or see a scene with every new smell, or even old ones. Smells still comforted me, or repelled me, I still associated people and places with their own unique scent, but it just wasn’t the same. It’s only in retrospect that I recognize this, at the time I was caught up in life, growing into an adult and all that I thought that entailed. My adult life became the polar opposite of my youth, full of modern trappings and a life so busy that I didn’t have time to even realize I had lost that quirk and with it, a part of myself. During those years I never stopped wearing perfume and I continued to collect fragrances. I even kept all of my mother’s bottles after she passed away, a dozen empties of Diorella, her signature scent, among them. I amassed my own collection of perfumes to enjoy, but though I might have considered them a “passion” they weren’t, not the way they are now. I had perfumes I associated with weather, moods, outfits and occasions, while some I collected for the bottle alone. They existed in my world but In hindsight I realize they were an accessory, like purses or shoes (which i also collect). Scents were nice, important even, but they weren’t emotional or integral.
Jump through the years until we reach 2017, the previous decade a series of tragic losses, I was forced to reinvent myself on levels I wasn’t aware existed. Through a series of serendipitous events, I discovered the Fragrance community and soon got lost in beautiful photos, spending hours watching reviews and encountered a group of kindred spirits. For months I happily frolicked (virtually), made friends with new people, met new perfumes, explored houses and fragrances with the excitement I hadn’t felt since my first trip to the library. Then one day, everything changed. On that day I smelled Histoires de Parfums 1969. I remember with eidetic accuracy the moment my world came back to life. I breathed in vivid colors of indigo and burgundy swirled, goldenrod yellow rising up amidst the wine colored cloud. I smelled every note at once, together and alone, then a farmers market full of people swam into my minds eye. Crowds in the sunshine, music and smiles galore, warmth and laughter everywhere. I was nearly in tears of joy and I felt, somehow, as if I was home again. Smelling and visualizing transported me back in time as I realized I had forgotten what it felt like to see what I smelled. Along with that realization came a flood of memories and waves of emotion. I sat at my desk laughing through tears, feeling like myself for the first time in decades; it was as if I was aligned again. The notes resonated so deeply within me, triggering clear memories of childhood; peach picking, bakers chocolate shavings, clove studded oranges that I spent hours assembling at the kitchen table, the earthy patchouli my mother was so fond of, her prized rose bushes and flower beds, all of it. The feelings that were unearthed, the memories, some so personal and important that I still well up with tears. I found myself again, in that moment and in that perfume.
Histoires de Parfums 1969©
Following that sniffing revelation of Histoires de Parfums 1969, my relationship with perfume took a dramatic turn. I went from wearing them as a pleasant accessory, to feeling them in a way I could have never imagined. I dove head first into the niche world of perfumes and it was no longer a simple pleasure, it was experiential. Each new fragrance is an adventure comprised of infinite smells, sights and a range of emotions. Although, I still enjoy designer scents, niche perfumery has my heart, it’s wearable art that connects to my spirit.
Ex Nihilo Fleur Narcotique – My First Niche Signature Scent (composed by perfumer Quentin Bisch)
I’ve discovered my Signature Scent and I know that it’s the first of many discoveries along this path. What I’ve come to realize is that niche perfume offers this experience to everyone who is open to receive it. Modern Perfume has progressed to become more than just an accessory and beyond simply “smelling good.” The fragrances are a journey, an encounter, immersive art that’s as personal as our own unique scent. Art has infinite mediums and I firmly believe the evolution of niche perfumery is one of the most exciting.
I am forever grateful to the Universe and to that tiny decant of perfume labeled Histoires de Parfums 1969 Angie. I smell things again, I feel and experience them. Not just fragrance but my entire world. Niche fragrances have introduced me to scents, colors and visuals that I would have never otherwise known. However, the most impactful aspect of my new journey is the wealth of memories that niche perfume is resurrecting. Moments in time, people, places and feelings are surfacing with each sniff. What a tremendous gift, to give me not only new experiences but to revive ones I didn’t even realize I had forgotten.
I wish my mother were here to join in my adventure, I often wonder what her Fragrant Awakening would have been. I feel her presence every time I prepare to breathe in a new fragrance, it’s as if my she were right there saying “Angela, smell this. Now tell me what you see.”
Photo of Histoires de Parfums 1969 courtesy of Histoires de Parfums and Grace Slick at Woodstock via Harper’s Bazaar
As an aside, here is a fantastic article from CaFleureBon Senior Editor Ida Meister on the 50th Anniversary of Woodstock that includes Histoires de Parfums 1969.
–Angela Guess, Guest Contributor and CaFleureBon reader (all photos are Angie’s unless otherwise noted)
Disclosure: From my own collection
Follow us on Instagram @angieguess13 and @cafleurebon
We celebrate our fellow editors’ bloggers’, vloggers’ and readers’ first niche perfume with our Fragrant Awakenings Series which you can read on Facebook here and on our site here