Most ladies’ perfumes I know tend to throw themselves at consumers, cloyingly sweet in their bid for women like me to buy them. Floral and fruity perfumes are the conventional manner to go, it seems, even among the ones concocted up by celebrities.
Its conventionality is up to the point where I have smelt some perfumes which have come from vastly different names and price ranges but resemble each other in their olfactory notes, like long-lost blood siblings across continents.
Due to this, I have some perfumes I have liked but will never buy. I mean, I love chocolate and sweet things but unless I want people to get hungry when they see me, I don’t want to smell like one of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory creations. Or a whole bouquet of flowers or a splendid fruit basket one gets at a fruit orchard.
In another aspect, perhaps the ages-long conventionality of floral and fruity character of ladies’ perfumes cast a light on the ever-so-ensuing gender stereotypes that have so often been blasted by feminists women’s rights activists, especially in this day and age.
Just as how numerous salespeople have tried to sell fruity and floral perfumes to me in their line of work, I used to have people who thought I liked the same things most girls do. Like pop groups who wear pretty makeup and svelte dresses, and the ever-so-masculine jocks one see in most designer advertorials.
What I would be impressed by, though, is a ladies’ perfume that has notes of spice, musk and some notes of vanilla. Something that oozes heated sensuality yet stands out from the rest like no other, and encaptures the essence of women who strive to be different from their supposed ‘more lady-like’ counterparts, and doesn’t cloy the nose with a sucker punch.
Now that would be liberating.