Perfumed Obsession

 

Ahh, the sweet smell of Blossom. And no, I don’t mean the flower from cherry or plum trees — I’m talking about Jimmy Choo’s 'Blossom' Eau de Parfum Spray. The spray I’ve accidentally, unapologetically, and possibly irreversibly become addicted to.

Addicted

It started innocently enough. My daughter keeps the bottle in our mirrored bathroom cabinet, where it sat collecting dust and silently judging our everyday toiletries. One day curiosity got the better of me. I gave it a little spritz, had a sniff, and the next thing I knew… I was hooked.

Now, every morning before work, I sneak a dab on my wrist. The scent lingers with me all morning, like a mischievous secret no one else knows. I do have my excuse rehearsed though, should anyone question why I smell like I’ve bathed in the boudoir of a Parisian socialite: “Oh, my daughter sprayed it on me as a laugh. She does that all the time, honestly.” Yes, it’s flimsy. Yes, I’ll probably crack under interrogation. But it’ll do.

Sometimes I even spray a little before bed. There’s something oddly comforting about drifting off to sleep in a cloud of perfume. The only downside? That bottle is disappearing faster than my willpower in a bakery. Replacement will be required soon.

Alluring

Here’s the truth: I’ve always loved women’s perfumes. Not just liked — loved. There’s something magnetic about them. I’m drawn to certain fragrances the same way a bull charges a red rag (except hopefully with more grace and less property damage).

Honestly, if you gave me the choice at Christmas between a “blokey” gift like a shaving kit or slippers versus a beautifully wrapped perfume bottle? Perfume wins every time. Slippers don’t exactly whisper, “you mysterious, intoxicating creature,” do they?

Favourites

I do have a few firm favourites from my adventures in scent:

• Blossom by Jimmy Choo
• Just Pink by Next
• Twilight Mauve by Zara
• Promise by Jennifer Lopez

I could happily spend hours in a department store perfume section, sniffing my way through every tester bottle like a bloodhound at Crufts. My daughter often joins me in this olfactory treasure hunt. We leave the store smelling like we’ve fallen into the perfume counter — each wrist, forearm, and occasionally elbow wearing a different fragrance.

My wife has her signature perfume too: Beautiful by Estée Lauder. It is, indeed, beautiful… though not my personal favourite (and certainly not my favourite price tag). Still, she’s worth it, so I make sure she’s well-stocked.

My mum loved perfumes as well, though I couldn’t tell you the names of any she wore. Every now and then I’ll catch a scent somewhere — on a passerby, in a shop, at a gathering — and it will pull me right back to her. Memory bottled up in fragrance. Strange how powerful smell can be.

An Occasional Whiff

I’ll admit, I’m a perfume detective. Out in public, at work, or visiting relatives, I’ll catch a scent and immediately become hyper-alert. If I know the person, I’ll ask them what they’re wearing. If not, the fragrance lingers in my mind like an unsolved mystery — one I sometimes get lucky enough to crack later.

Perfume has that power: to ground you, to transport you, to leave you a little enchanted without you even knowing why.

So, let me throw it out to you:

• Do you have a favourite perfume?
• Or maybe, like me, a few favourites that rotate depending on mood, occasion, or sheer whimsy?
• What is it you love about them — the memory they trigger, the feeling they give you, or just the sheer joy of smelling delicious?

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: sometimes the simplest indulgences — a spray on the wrist, a whiff in the air — can be the most addictive of all.

Thanks for reading

Lotte x