The Wine Wasn’t Right… Or Was It?

Some years ago, my wife and I were on holiday in Franschhoek with a group of good friends and family.

It was one of those beautiful days when everything seems to line up.

The weather was perfect.

We were sitting at a beautiful restaurant overlooking the valley.

Good food.

Good friends.

Good conversation.

And, as tends to happen on those sorts of days, a few bottles of wine.

I don’t remember who ordered the first bottle of Chamonix Chardonnay.

But we drank it.

Then we ordered another.

And another.

We were having such a good time that nobody seemed particularly concerned about the wine.

Years later, I discovered something rather amusing.

I’d spoken to a few people who had been there that day.

It turned out that almost everyone remembered the wine in exactly the same way.

It wasn’t very good.

In fact, it was probably the low point of the afternoon.

Which was slightly awkward because the following day, I went out and bought a whole case.

I’m still not entirely sure why.

Perhaps I’d convinced myself that we’d enjoyed it.

Perhaps I was remembering the afternoon rather than the wine.

Whatever the reason, I put the case into my cellar.

And there it stayed.

For years.

In fact, it sat there for probably ten years.

I never really had any desire to drink it.

Then one evening, more out of curiosity than expectation, I opened a bottle.

And something very strange happened.

It was magnificent.

Not just good.

It was, quite possibly, the best wine I have ever tasted.

I still don’t know why.

Perhaps the wine had needed ten years in the bottle.

Perhaps it was actually a very good wine and simply wasn’t the right wine for that particular afternoon.

Perhaps my tastes had changed.

Or perhaps all three were true.

I’ll probably never know.

What I do know is that opening that bottle made the experience even sweeter.

Because suddenly the wine carried two memories.

The first was that wonderful afternoon in Franschhoek.

The sunshine.

The valley.

Our friends and family.

The laughter.

And the second was the discovery, ten years later, that the wine itself was actually rather special.

Every time I drank another bottle from that case, it brought a little of that holiday back with it.

I became very grateful that, for reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I’d bought the wine I didn’t particularly like.

I’ve thought about that story quite a bit over the years.

Because perhaps we make a similar mistake with fragrance.

We tend to ask a very simple question:

“Do I like this?”

And that’s a perfectly reasonable question.

But perhaps it’s not always the most useful one.

Sometimes a fragrance isn’t really about whether you like it in isolation.

It’s about where, when and how you experience it.

Think about a fragrance you love on holiday.

Warm weather.

Sunshine.

A linen shirt.

A cold drink.

The smell of the ocean.

You come home, spray the same fragrance on a cold Monday morning before heading to work…

And suddenly you wonder what you ever saw in it.

The fragrance hasn’t changed.

The context has.

And the reverse can happen too.

A fragrance that makes you feel polished, capable and completely put together in a meeting might feel stiff and formal when you’re sitting beside the pool.

A fragrance that feels wonderful for an intimate dinner might be completely lost at a big outdoor party.

A fragrance that feels warm and comforting on a cold winter evening might be far too much on a hot summer afternoon.

None of these things necessarily make the fragrance good or bad.

It might simply mean it belongs somewhere else.

And I think this is where the idea of a fragrance wardrobe starts to become interesting.

Perhaps you don’t need to find your fragrance.

Perhaps you need to find your fragrance for this.

For work.

For a date.

For a walk.

For a night out.

For a wedding.

For a lazy Sunday.

For when you want to feel confident.

For when you want to relax.

For when you want to feel adventurous.

For when you simply want to feel like yourself.

We often say:

“That’s not really my thing.”

And sometimes that’s absolutely true.

But occasionally…

It might mean:

“That’s not really my thing… here.”

Or:

“That’s not really my thing… yet.”

I’ve come to think that perhaps the better question isn’t:

“Do I like this fragrance?”

It’s:

“What is this fragrance for?”

Where would I wear it?

When would I want to smell like this?

How would I want to feel?

Who would I be with?

And what would I be doing?

Those questions can take you somewhere very different from simply standing in front of 500 bottles and trying to decide which one smells nicest.

Perhaps that’s the real joy of having a fragrance wardrobe.

We’re not different people.

We’re the same person…

Living different days.

And sometimes…

We don’t want to feel the same.

If You’re Curious to Explore

This is one of the reasons we encourage exploration rather than trying to find one “perfect” fragrance.

You don’t have to know exactly what you’re looking for.

You can start with a situation.

A mood.

An occasion.

Or simply a little curiosity.

Try something familiar.

Try something unexpected.

And see where it belongs in your life.

You can start small:

5 × 2ml samples for R100
3 × 10ml fragrances for R200

Or, once you’ve discovered a few that fit:

Any 3 × 50ml fragrances for R675 to begin building a wardrobe you’ll enjoy reaching for.

Because sometimes the question isn’t whether a fragrance is good.

It’s whether it’s good for you, here, now.

Until next time

Rob

"Perfume is like cocktails without the hangover, like chocolate without the calories, like an affair without tears, like a vacation from which you never have to come back."

Marian Bendeth

The Wine Wasn’t Right… Or Was It?

If You’re Curious to Explore

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