I LOVE WEARING WOMEN’S PERFUMES

“And I have no shame in admitting it, either,” says fashion commentator, Varun Rana.

I love wearing women’s perfumes. No, that’s wrong. I love wearing perfumes. It’s the marketing machine that has segregated them into men’s and women’s fragrances. And I’d be a fool if I didn’t see through that. Besides, why should women have sole ownership of all the lovely tuberoses, jasmines and lavenders of the world? Did I not, as a child, inhale deeply at my mother’s warm pillow the morning after she had been out with my father, attending a party? Did I not want to bury my head in her blanket and never come out?

As a man, especially today when we’re digging ourselves deeper into the sexist abyss while ostentatiously espousing feminism (which is another way to propagate sexism if you ask me) and all other sorts of -isms, wearing what are called women’s perfumes is my private little defiance. It’s my most intimate decision. And in the kind of fake democracy we live in today, I thank God that at least over this aspect of my life I have full control. I allow nobody to tell me, not even glitzy ad campaigns, what to spritz over my body’s nerve points. On these sensitive areas, the only control I yield is to my lover, to kiss me there, and my doctor to divine my health. But perfumes have me enslaved all over. And since I’m no Adonis or Aphrodite in the flesh, smelling people – really, actually smelling them, and remembering their individual musk (and smelling good for them) – is my way of connecting with those whom I meet.

Maya Angelou said “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” They will also never forget what you smelled like. Olfactory memory, it is now scientifically proven, is stronger than conscious memory.

My love affair with perfumes started with Johnson’s Baby Powder when I was very young, to which I added Pears soap. At 30, both of these are still present in my bathroom cabinet. I have been lucky that I am a journalist. Perfumes are the most frequent freebies we get (they’re not that expensive anyway, so you don’t feel guilty for receiving them). And through my writing career, I’ve tried numerous scents. Some have been like a supernova: Fantastic, yet quickly over. Present in my life only as long as the bottle lasted, for I never bought (or could buy) another. Others have been more like relationships, which have only gotten stronger over time.

Rohit Bal’s wonderful, and yet-to-be-launched, eponymous perfume was a supernova. I got one of the first bottles in 2010 as a gift from the man himself, and whenever I wore it, people just. couldn’t. handle. it. Its amazing blend of jasmine and musk, of spice and flowers, is maddening. Sadly, it’s not available commercially yet. And yes, it is what traditionally would be called a lady’s perfume.

The love affair which I cannot have enough of is Tom Ford’s Black Orchid. My friends know this as my signature scent. And I discovered it at the time I used to smoke cigarettes. Whenever I wore it, it would create a divine chemistry between its woody-floral notes and the acrid tobacco I exhaled. I still wear it, and it is still an intense experience even without the smoke. This too, is marketed as a woman’s fragrance. My other favourites are Bvlgari’s Jasmine Noir (the name says it all), Clinique Happy (predictable I know), and Burberry Rhythem (it smells like a well-kept London apartment where cut flowers are delivered every three days and the couches are, sensibly, upholstered in spanish leather).

In all the years that I have worn women’s scents, not once have I been asked if that perfume I’m wearing is a man’s or woman’s. I’ve been asked only what I’m wearing, and seen the other’s surprised smile when I say it’s such-and-such, and they realise it’s a woman’s eau. This is quite revealing. While brands would have you believe that the sex of the perfume is one of its most defining and important features, once you actually put it on your body, it ceases to matter. People never expect to smell a man or a woman when they meet you. They simply appreciate that you smell good. And while I have nothing against men’s fragrances (I love Bvlgari’s new Man in Black, possibly the classiest perfume I’ve tried in recent years), I resent that most of my friends and the public at large spend their entire lives without exploring a whole range of fragrances simply because a marketing machinery has labeled them fit only for the opposite sex. If you have to defer, to give in helplessly to, and to be governed utterly by any entity, let your own God-given nose be your master. There are many labels, brands, and companies in the world. But you have only one nose. Listen to it.

*Varun Rana is the Fashion Features Director at Harper’s Bazaar India

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