By Andrew
There’s a challenge to giving Opium a fair review that goes beyond its over-familiarity: when and where can you give a full wearing to the olfactory equivalent of a shiny black viscose shirt, tight red leather pants, and an ostrich feather hat? For all that it smells terrific (and it does), Opium broadcasts an emphatic sense of costume party excess. Besides which, it’s so outrageously potent that applying it sparingly enough to avoid suffocation requires extreme measures. Heck, just opening the bottle at less than arm’s length can get enough on me to last the day.
By all rights, wearing Opium shouldn’t be the incontrovertible evidence of gaucherie that it is. After all, Serge Lutens and Christopher Sheldrake have built a lordly reputation on similarly viscous, sweet, spicy oriental fragrances. Why is it then that Opium leaves me feeling self-conscious in a way that Eau Lente, Shalimar, Noir Epices, Shaal Nur, or even Bal à Versailles do not?
I can’t identify any particular component in the composition that offends; in fact the entire arrangement reads as an indivisible block of scent. Sure, if I concentrate, I can make out opoponax, cinnamon, cloves, rose, carnation, and star anise immersed in Opium’s sweet, dark amber, but they don’t want to be pried apart. Perhaps it’s this opaque, unyielding quality that makes Opium so hard to live with. Or maybe it’s the sheer density of the thing. When the band Flaming Lips recorded a song titled A Spoonful Weighs a Ton they could well have been talking about Opium.
Whatever the cause, Opium no longer plays as well as it once did. I’d sooner wear it as a man than I would were I a woman, if only because the element of surprise might lend the scent some new life. There’s certainly nothing, save the intensity, that renders Opium more “feminine” than any number of unisex niche orientals – or even Habit Rouge, for that matter. If you’re going to wear it though guys, I suggest the following procedure:
1. Spray/dab a small amount on a cotton ball or piece of cloth.
2. Allow it to dry for several minutes.
3. Lightly brush the cotton ball or fabric once along your skin. Do not apply any pressure.
Good luck, gentlemen!
Year: 1977
Perfumer: Jean-Louis Sieuzac, Jean Amic
Notes: cinnamon, pepper, orange, pimento, carnation, jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, vanilla, benzoin, patchouli, opoponax
Andrew, I've never smelled Opium, but the opening to your review certainly paints a vivid picture. Nice work!
ReplyDelete(trundles off to seek out a sample of Opium)
Thanks Thomas!
ReplyDeleteOne of the challenges to wearing Opium is that its profile is so unmistakable. People know you're wearing Opium. On the other hand, if for no other reason than its former popularity and historic role in perfumery, Opium is one of those scents, like Chanel No. 5, Mitsouko, or Fracas, that anyone with serious interest in fragrance should probably try at least once.