I planned to take photos in the Perfume House; small though it is, it houses L’Artisan, Amouage, Annick Goutal, and more… but once I got there, it was a whirlwind!
Tracey greeted our familiar faces at the door, and asked me, “Do you have a list?” which, after nodding enthusiastically, I handed over to her. It turns out that I remembered incorrectly, and they don’t carry the Frapin line (damn it!). They also don’t yet have Jeux de Peau—which I was counting on spraying (I have a sample to dab from), and they don’t yet have Coeur de Vetiver Sacre either. As consolation I sniffed my way through Caron (Yatagan! A revelation!), and a few others Tracey recommended based on the list I came in with. I dallied for a while in the Amber Orientals (no more! just say no!), but that’s not what you want to hear about, is it?
I sprayed the tester of Vol de Nuit EDT on Matt (right wrist) and he was immediately smitten with it. He got a Bois 1920 on the other wrist, and Anderson got Chergui and Muscs Kublai Khan. The guys left while I spent time with Aqua Allegoria, Lolita Lempika, and above mentioned Carons. I know better than to try and make a decision on the spot, so I left, and went to find the menfolk. We did further rounds of sniffing, but there was no swaying the husband: it must be Vol de Nuit.
On returning to TPH, and informing Tracey of our decision, her face fell. “We’re sold out of it!” In the whirlwind, I hadn’t realized that she had to go to the back room for the tester, and that it was not on display. She offered to make me a sample to take with me, and to call me when it was back in stock. A generous consolation, and I agreed, while trying to decide if I really needed that bottle of Figue–Iris. She was gone for a while, and when she came back, she said she had something that I might be interested in, and in her hand was a zebra stripped box. “It’s a pre-reformulation parfum— but pre-reformulation doesn’t mean that it’s bad.”
That it’s bad?! I nearly peed myself with excitement. “I’ll take it.” No hesitation on my part, not for a second. As an afterthought, I asked the price… and prepared myself for the wince I knew would come. The Perfume House has a “Special Reserve” collection of rare and vintage fragrances, but you have to make an appointment for a private viewing to see them. I was shaking in my boots, and thinking of my brand-spanking new bottle of Memoir, when she answered, “Ninety-eight dollars.”
While it’s just a quarter-ounce, I still feel like I’ve gotten away with murder. Mr. H thinks that it’s his, and I’m inclined to let him think so—that’s a separate budget, right?