Scandal alone is to blame.

Or so says one who fervently does not believe in ‘blame’.

Go figure.

 

 

I was only three when my mother’s colleague brought home a tiny flacon of Scandal de Lanvin from his European travels.

 

One sniff was all it took; my eyes rolled back in my head.

 

 

I filched the damn thing, and huffed it tirelessly.

It started me down the Primrose Path to Perfumistahood.

 

The scent was unlike anything I’d ever smelled; it conjured images of unattainable luxury, sophistication, and worldly women.

The kind of beauty I firmly suspected I’d never possess….

 

When I was new to the online perfume community, a lovely POLer sent me some of hers.

A treasure she willingly offered, when she realized what it meant to me.

I was bowled over by her kindness.

 

 

 

Why Scandal?

 

Floral, leathery, and densely animalic, it felt dangerous and civilized at once.

Scandal spoke of high heels, stockings with the seam up the back, trailing sables.

Smoking, drinking, up at all hours.

Nights spent at the ballet, the opera, the symphony.

Secret assignations.

 

 

There is some discrepancy as to the ‘birth date’ of this scent; some say 1932, some say 1933.

 

Whatever the case, it fairly reeks of musk, civet, and ambergris in the base.

[This alone was enough to ensnare me, given my lifelong penchant for furry critters]

 

The top notes include aldehydes, citrus [bergamot, lemon] and a sharp clary sage note; the heart speaks of Bulgarian rose, ylang, orris…

And THEN, there’s the LEATHER.

 

A big whip-cracking leather, not just a riding crop, my friends.

I was firmly hooked.

 

A fragrance devoid of complacency and ordinary prettiness.

An extraordinary perfume for woman endowed with curves, great strength of character, and larger-than-life sensibilities and appetites.

 

It made this geeky, preternaturally curious little girl shiver with anticipation, and gave breath to the hope of personal transformation and hidden pleasures.

 

The fervent belief that a few precious drops had that sort of power – much like magical thought.

 

Perhaps it augured a future populated by artistic pursuits, a love of beauty, and exploration of my own sensuality.

 

 

Scandal started it all.

My pulse quickens today, just as it did over 50 years ago.

 

The sleeping beast is alive in me, still.

 

 

 

–Ida Meister, Senior Editor