The building was pink stucco, big and new and ugly. It had a side entrance with “Romp Room” lettered above it in red neon…[I heard] The high titter of drunk and flattered women, the animal sounds of drunk and eager men. Babel with a wild jazz obbligato.
A big henna redhead in a shotsilk blouse was making drinks at a service bar near the door. Her torso jiggled in the blouse like a giant soft-boiled egg with the shell removed.*
The scent wafting off this dame was unmistakable: Coty Emeraude, in the bottle with the plastic lid. I bet she was saving up for Shalimar. Not that she should bother — the stink of cigarette smoke and bleach water bar rags would follow her wherever she went.
But who was this gorgeous dame down the bar? She was years away from drugstore perfume. At first glance, I’d peg her for Frédéric Malle Carnal Flower.
I stole a look at the woman, to confirm my first impression. Her atmosphere was like pure oxygen; if you breathed it deep it could make you dizzy and gay, or poison you. Her eyes were melancholy under heavy lashes, her cheeks faintly hollowed as if she had been feeding on her own beauty…Her hands fumbled with the diamond clasp of a gold lamé bag, and groped inside. “God damn and blast it,” she said.*
Hmm. Beautiful — ethereal even — but with a potty mouth. Maybe she’d be better off wearing DelRae Amoureuse, a dream of heady, wet white flowers. One drop is heaven itself, but two drops will burn the hairs out of your nostrils. Her friend was an attractive dame, too, if a little older. Maybe her mother? Her eyes were particularly striking.
They were innocent eyes, not youthful but innocent, as if they perceived only pre-selected facts. Such eyes went with the carefully dyed blonde hair whipped like cream on her pretty skull, with the impossibly good figure under her too-youthful dress, and with the guileless way she let me look at her.**
“Ma’am,” I said. “Is that Jean Patou Sublime you’re wearing?” I already knew the answer. Sublime plays at being youthful, but no twenty-year old would be caught dead in it. I’d love to smell her in vintage Lanvin Arpège, or, if she wants to stick with Patou, Joy.
Without trying, I had succeeded in startling her. She stared at me with her mouth open. Then she remembered that it looked better closed, and closed it.**
All that opening and closing of mouths reminded me that I was hungry. I ordered a martini and a grilled cheese sandwich from the redhead and settled down to an early supper.
While I was eating, a woman came through the door at the end of the bar. She was tall and big boned, with more than flesh enough to cover her bones. The skirt of her cheap black suit was wrinkled where her hips and thighs bulged out. Her feet and ankles spilled over the tops of very tight black pumps. Her north end was decorated with a single gray fox, a double strand of imitation pearls approximately the same color, and enough paint to preserve a battleship. Her chest was like a battleship’s prow, massive and sharp and uninviting. She gave me a long hard searchlight look, her heavy mouth held loose, all ready to smile.*
This dame was dressed for a conquest. Before she left the house she had drained a bottle of Thierry Mugler Angel, but it didn’t even come close to matching her aggressive style. I might have suggested a finer cut of suit and a dab of Caron Tabac Blonde, but just then her smile turned to a scowl.
“Say, aren’t you that perfume blogger?” she hissed.
“Well, possibly,” I said warily and put down my sandwich.
“Yes, you are. Thanks to you, I spent three hundred bucks on a bottle of Amouage Jubilation 25, and my boyfriend says I smell like I forgot to put on deodorant. If that’s not bad enough, I spent a fortune hunting down a bottle of vintage Dioressence on eBay and it had gone bad.” The fox hanging around her neck seemed to snarl along with her. She pushed up her sleeves and socked me on the jaw with a meaty fist.
When I woke up I was at the hospital. It was the middle of the night, and the halls were quiet. I had plenty of time to think about the people I had driven to buy unsniffed bottles or encouraged to try something that ended up being a total scrubber. Maybe it was time to hang up the laptop and call it a day. I could always go back to hostessing at the barbecue restaurant.
By the time the sun rose I had turned over a new leaf. Never again would I second guess someone’s perfume or bore the patient readers of Now Smell This with my posts. I walked to the hospital’s business office to check out.
The cashier at Mercy Hospital had eyes like calculators. She peered at me through the bars of her cage as if she was estimating my income, subtracting my expenses, and coming up with a balance in the red.
“How much am I worth?” I said cheerfully.
“Dead or alive?”**
The dark scent of dry violets and old attic wafted from the cashier. “Jean Patou 1000?” I asked the dame. She probably bought it with money she’d skimmed from the till. “I think you’d like Bvlgari Black, too.” I couldn’t help myself.
Find more “perfumes for a dame” at Perfume Posse & Perfume Smellin’ Things.
* Ross McDonald, The Drowning Pool (Knopf, 1950)
** Ross McDonald, Black Money (Knopf, 1965)
56 Comments
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this is an interesting post…
I think the idealized version of myself would be a cross between the trouser and corset dame according to the Perfume Posse post.
but I don't think I would be considered a dame at all…
Bvlgari Black is my everyday perfume, though.
Brilliant! I love all the different takes on this idea. Your story is fantastic, and you have held your own in the intercutting of the “noir” novels. I should read these and pick up some Dame/Femme Fatale pointers!
I think you are right about Sublime too, and that could totally be a Dame perfume. It's one of my favorites, and I have most definitely become a Dame as I get older, and I love every minute of it.
This was GREAT FUN, thank you!
What a fun post! I will be Amoureuse if I may
What a fun article! Thanks for making my day…uh-oh, just realized I'm wearing a black suit & Bulgari Black. All I need is a cigarette!
Angela,
This is so enjoyable and very creative. I wore Sublime when I was young, but now my favorite is Amoureuse. Thanks for starting my day with some fun!
Brilliant fun! Now I not only want to wear the perfumes, I want to run out to the used bookstore and see if I can scare up some more of these novels, which you clearly know a great deal about.
Very interesting choices with the Patous, too. I need to concentrate more on that line.
I want a bit part in this tale.
I'm having so much fun reading these! I like your Noir version… and we picked some of the same scents (no great surprise.) The quotes are hilarious.
Hot damn Angela! That was fun- now I need to scare up one of those novels!
I still need to jump over and read the other takes on dames! (Today is my day off, and I stayed in bed a little too long.)
The reason I chose Sublime for that character is because I know I dame who smells wonderfully it of, and it's such an intriguing mix of youthful and sophisticated.
I adore Ross McDonald! I got hooked on his novels about a year ago. The descriptions–jam-packed with similes–are great.
…and a fox hanging around your neck! That dame was scary.
Wow, two of the dame perfumes! There really were so many perfumes (and dames) I could have included, but space was limited….
A, I realized when I finished the draft that it was really Patou-ed. Oh well.
I can't wait to read yours–I just dragged my sorry hind end out of bed and am nursing my first cup of coffee.
L, the men have fabulous descriptions, too. Lots of Yatagan and a fair sprinkling of Mouchoir de Monsieur.
M, I'm looking forward to reading yours! If I had to choose one dame perfume, it would probably be Tabac Blond. So dame.
Ross McDonald was a genius. I like the early novels, especially.
Great piece! As I was reading along I wondered how you would manage an ending that would live up to the rest… and you NAILED it.
Thank you! Ross McDonald is fabulous.
My idea of a good dame is a gal who doesn't believe in the walk of shame, and can hang with the likes of James Bond or a rough handed maintenance man and still keep her cool….
In such cases, she's “walked in” wearing her own frag – I'd say something like AG Ce Soir ou Jamais – all innocent pears and roses until you get to that wee bit of skank in the base, And then “walks out” in whatever smells great in his bathroom. Maybe some Irish Spring, Pour Monsieur or Canoe. Oh, and probably stale cigarette smoke. And whiskey makes good gargle in a pinch!
Your dame completely own herself, and Ce Soir ou Jamais is a great choice–I always smell red wine in it.
Marko, you are so nice! No more hostessing for me (although your suggestion about perfume for barbecue is intriguing), I'm staying here as long as Robin will have me.
Yes, Angela, please reassure us that your laptop will stay firmly on your lap where it belongs! We need your magnificent creativity and sense of adventure.
Great topic. I think I could be an Alpona extrait dame, with some tight tweed cut to THERE, some mighty strong hairspray for my backcomb and stilettos. That's fierce juice, in a smoldering, near-masculine way. Grrrrrrrrrr!
Alpona extrait–nice. You sound like a pretty fierce dame, all right!
You got THAT right, Hon. Bet you are, too!
Loved the post, Angela…now I HAVE to add Amoureuse to my sample list.
IIRC, you posted awhile back about writing a perfume related mystery of your own…how's it coming? I'm sure I'm not the only mystery fan here who'd want to read it
I try!
I have a first draft of the mystery finished, but I've been working too much at other jobs–every day and most nights– to get back to it. As soon as I finish up one big project, and that should be in the next couple of days, I'm back to it. Thank you so much for asking, though! I love working on it. It's title for the moment is The Lanvin Murders. Sound deadly?
Dear Angela
This is sometimes what I try to do when I read novles- to match perfume to each characters in the book. But it is so hard! I guess one must 'know' the perfume very well enough to match it with person. I admire your talent Angela. I think you could write a fun perfume fiction for perfumistas like us out here.
Thank you! It is hard to match a perfume with a character, and I can use a lot more practice at it, that's for sure, but it's a lot of fun.
Yes, and in a good way!
Thanks!
Well, I kind of associate some dames with Patou – it's pretty classic and classy stuff just like the dames themselves.
I think my dame scent would fluctuate depending on what kind of dame I was being that day! Joy? Misouko? Paris? I think when I was in my early dame period it was Poison. Then my Dad got me some Tiffany, which my friend said made me smell like a very expensive whore, so that was another good dame scent. Now I don't get a lot of opportunities to really shine in my dame-ness so I let my perfume do it for me.
I like the idea, too, that a dame has a wide and varied collection of perfumes to suit her brand of dame-ness at the moment.
Exactly! There are days when one drinks wine, and then there are bourbon days….. >:)
And don't forget the gin!
Oh! Ross McDonald on a winter night. Nothing to do with the cold. Think I'll go frost a martini glass now… thanks so much!
It sounds like we see eye to eye. Cheers!
I also love trying to peg a perfume to a woman. Please never abandon that laptop, Angela. You're far too entertaining,
As usual, great post Angela. Thanks for sharing.
I dunno, but I always associate “super floral” perfumes with dames. Paris by YSL, maybe? =)
This was a very fun read. I was surpised Tabu didn't make an appearance, but Emeraude is probably a good stand in. Love that simile of a “torso like a giant soft-boiled egg with the shell removed.”
As I was reading this, into my head popped memories of the Charles Busch noir-spoof film “Die, Mommie, Die”… which is far too much camp and also verrrrrry raunchy, but he gets into some great characterizations based on famous film dames. Kind of a hoot, or awful beyond words, depending on your taste.
I must be an oddity, as I happily wore Sublime at twenty. Mind you, even in my teens I had a propensity towards perfumista status!!!
I can completely imagine a heady, floral perfume on the right kind of dame. Paris is a great choice.
It's a fun game to match people with perfume–I don't plan on quitting soon!
Tabu would have been perfect for the Henna-ed egg torso-ed woman.
I loved “Die Mommie Die”! It was the absolutely best kind of awful. In fact, I think I need to see it again soon.
Hey, a perfume over achiever! Perfect. Sublime earns its name, that's for sure.
Or Shocking, by Schiaparelli is another that comes to mind.
When I read this post yesterday, I happened to be wearing Bandit, a great dame perfume in my opinion. I also agree with other posters that Paris and Tabu have that dame aspect. And what a treat it was to go to Perfume Smellin' Things and see that photo of my favorite dame of all time – Barbara Stanwyck!
By the way, I LOVE Charles Busch and saw the Off-Broadway version of “Die Mommie Die” twice last year. Just saw his new play, “The Third Story”, a very affectionate homage to movie dames. Keep 'em coming, Charles, don't ever stop!
That is a terrific dame scent!
I'd like to think so. It's got that “take no prisoners” attitude!
Absolutely.
I bow, speechless, before your talent. Very nice work.
Thank you! I know you are particularly discerning, so I'm very flattered. But really the compliments all to to Ross McDonald.
You are very kind to say so. Have you ever read any Ross Thomas? I think you would enjoy him as well.
I haven't heard of him, but I just wrote down his name. Thanks for the recommendation!