It’s Mother’s Day on Sunday, and in the latest edition of The Scented Letter – our downloadable VIP Subscriber magazine (which will go out to subscribers on Friday 13th March!) – we asked leading figures from the fragrance world to share some memories of their mother’s perfumes…
You can read just a sample of their responses below – but even more importantly, we’d love you to share what your own mother wore/wears. Please post on our Facebook page, or tweet using the hashtag #scentofmymother – and remember to mention @Perfume_Society, too, so we can track these and retweet, and get everyone thinking how important those early scent memories are, in our lives…
We look forward to reading them!
And now, what some of those perfume people told us…
Benoît Verdier, co-founder Ex Nihilo Parfums
‘My mother wore YSL Paris. She wore it in the morning when driving me to school, so the whole car smelled of Paris. It’s not a scent I like particularly, for me – but when I smell it, I get a total flashback.’
Marie Salamagne, perfumer
‘My little ‘madeleine de Proust’ is Shalimar. I have such strong memories of my mother wearing it; she is a doctor, so I didn’t see her very often; she came home late at night and left early in the morning. I remember waking very early and going into her bed, going under the cover and smelling her skin still wearing Shalimar. She used to say that she couldn’t dress the way she wanted for work because she had to wear a white coat, but she could perfume herself. And if she was working very late, I would sneak into her bed and smell her pillow….’
Mary Greenwell, make-up artist (creator of her signature Mary Greenwell perfume house)
‘My mother wore Arpège by Lanvin. As a child, I loved its floral essence with the base note of amber. I loved, too, the illustration on the black bottle of a mother and child, and was terribly touched by that. My mother wore Arpège everyday: it was so comforting to know she was at home as I followed her alluring scent, so exotic and glamorous. Now, if I smell Arpège, I am taken back to memories of my chic mother, probably dressed in dark blue or chocolate brown, holding the black bottle at her dressing room table.’
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