I found out yesterday afternoon, that Ellen Degeneres spoke about one of my perfumes on her talk show earlier that day. I should have known this was coming as someone from her production staff called here the day before in a swivet asking if we could somehow magically transport perfume from one coast to the other that same afternoon or if not where in Los Angeles were my perfumes sold? My assistant directed this person to the list of stores on my website, mentioned the incident to me and I promptly forgot about it. We had a great deal of work to get done that afternoon and I myself was in the middle of several things and in no mood to be distracted.
My memory was refreshed however when a media tracking service called my office trying to sell us clips from the broadcast. Naturally I hadn't seen her show myself as a) I don't watch television and haven't owned one since 1998 b) I generally work during the daytime - and a fair portion of the rest of the day as well and c) as i said, I'd forgotten about it.
At first I was pleased with this idea. I remember very much enjoying the Ellen show in ages past. And i enjoyed her childlike approach to comedy which generally managed to find the positive in the perfectly absurd. Also I thought she herself was most courageous in "coming out" as she did. So I was very curious to see what she might make of my work. My assistant found the clip from her show on line and I sat down to watch. Well. Talk about your unpleasant surprises. Here's a portion of the transcript sent to me by the tracking service which doesn't really do the broadcast justice:
Ellen: These names are real I promise you. This is called "In the Library". And this is how it's described. (reading from back of perfume box) "Musty worn book with just a hint of mildew" Just a hint? I am gonna wait for 100 percent mildew. Or musty carpet. And this one costs $65. I know it. I don't know why anybody would pay that much when you can get this for under $10. (Much laughter from audience)
She also pretended to spray a bit in the air and smell it. Naturally there was the comically exaggerated look of disgust, which again brought gales of laughter from her audience. Ellen then claimed she didn't actually smell the perfume this time as she had already smelled it in rehearsal clearly implying that once was enough. Howls again from audience.
I can't imagine that she actually had smelled "In the Library" before her actual telecast. If she had, she'd have realized that "mildew" plays no part. Or perhaps, Miss Degeneres is unfortunately suffering a form of phantosmia - and olfactory malfunction wherein odors are recognized but have no possible physical source and indeed do not exist.
Now I'm not really upset that she made great fun on one of my most popular (and personally much loved) perfumes. It has always been and always will be my position that everyone is welcome to think what one likes about any particular smell. No one has the right to tell anyone else what smells "good" or what smells "bad". This is always a deeply personal and highly individual preference. If Ellen didn't like the smell of "In the Library" so be it. And I am the first to admit I have always been attracted to and have used rather a lot of the strange and unusual when it comes to smells in my perfumes or collection of accords.
But i am seriously annoyed that Ellen intentionally misrepresented the ingredients and the smell of this particular perfume to make her "joke". "In the Library" contains absolutely NO mildew whatsoever. In fact, its notes are clearly listed on my website as being: English Novel from a Signed First Edition of one of my very favorite novels, Russian and Moroccan Leather Bindings, Worn Cloth and a Hint of Wood Polish. Furthermore, that's what they are too. No mildew. Not then. Not now. Not ever. Not in this perfume.
Now in truth I do mention "mildew" in the story (the brief) that inspired this particular perfume on my website. But it should be clear to everyone capable of reading that this is NOT the description of the perfume itself. I have indeed noticed that different books from different places and periods of history have very different smells. I can often tell books that have lived in libraries where pipes or cigars were regularly smoked. I can tell books that have come from humid places, which gives an extra "musty" scent to the pages. And different bindings to indeed smell very different - the glues, the various cloths or leathers all have very unique characteristics which, to my mind, give an extra dash of personality to an otherwise mundane object. And yes, occasionally if a book has had the misfortune of being very poorly kept, I can detect perhaps a faint whiff of mildew. But this is NOT part of "In the Library".
To many of course, these various bookish odors mean nothing - and might very well be interpreted as unpleasant. But to an avid collector like myself, these smells are as magical as the bouquet of a great wine to a connoisseur and are as intoxicating as the most beautiful perfume. And whenever I sit down with a favorite volume, I open it, breathe in and just like Proust with his madeleine and lime flower tea, the floodgates of memory are opened and the heart begins to sing.
I rarely read the copy that inspired English Novel - the principal note in "In the Library". I happen to have five other unsigned first editions of that same book which i take in turns to read. I keep the original carefully wrapped to preserve its smell. But now and again, I do unwrap it, open it and breathe in. And each time I am transported...
Then I remember vividly the day I found it in London. I was browsing through the bookshops in Cecil Court, a tiny cobbled lane that opens off the Charing Cross Road. I can see the sheen of rain on the cobblestones, the window and doorway of the shop and the polished brass of the door handle. I remember the shoes I was wearing and the cut of my suit although I confess I cannot now remember its fabric (navy wool crepe I think but I can't be sure). But I do recall the face of the man who nodded to me when I said, "Good Afternoon", (bored as he glanced up from his own reading) and i remember the layout of the shop's interior and the exact look of the shelves when I began to browse them.
And I can remember the exact position of the Novel in Question on those shelves. I had to reach slightly up and to the left. It was just a bit higher than my head and it caught my attention because of its bright yellow binding. I pulled it off the shelf and it took me a moment to realize what I was holding. Indeed it took my brain several seconds just to process the title. I couldn't believe it! My heart beat faster as I turned to the colophon and realized this was indeed a first edition! And thirteen years later, I can still feel the spinning faintness in my head when I realized this book had been signed by its author. This was something of a miracle.
This book is an obscure novel by Compton Mackenzie entitled "Extraordinary Women". I'd first read it in a paperback reissue by the Hogarth Press in 1987. The introduction stated that only 2000 copies were originally printed, 100 of them had been signed by the author and the book itself was promptly banned in England. Its story tells of the very comic misadventures of a group of lesbians on Capri during and shortly after the First World War. These characters are largely based on real and sometimes famous people that Mackenzie himself knew or observed during his own sojourns to that island. Why it should have so struck my fancy then or why it would have become such a favorite of mine since, I really can't say. Obviously this falls into the category of things whereof the heart has its reasons but of which reason knows nothing. The point though is that I love this book deeply.
So when i found one of those rare signed first editions those many years ago, I nearly pass out. To an avid collector of books, this was like finding the Holy Grail at a flea market or an unknown Van Gogh in the attic. I managed to maintain at least a degree of composure and as casually as I could, I asked the shopkeeper its price (40 pounds). I paid, bid farewell, left the shop and probably did a little dance in the street outside. I know it was one of the happiest moments of my life. The smell of this volume always has and I hope always will remind me of that rainy, dreary, chilling but terribly thrilling afternoon when I was so happy.
I have always loved books. I am told this was the case even before I could read on my own and was read to by my mother. As a child, they provided a fantastic escape from a rather dreary daily life as well as a rich and rather precocious vocabulary. As I grew older, I began to read voraciously and when I was about 12 and earning a bit of money on my own, I began to buy them. (I can tell you virtually which was the first. I still have it and I can still remember the clear summer sky and the smell of mown grass as I browsed through it while my mother filled the tank of the car at the service station near our house in Pennsylvania but this is beside the point>)
As an adult in New York my reading increased further (despite college) and I began to cover a wider groups of topics - a rather peculiar group perhaps but fascinating to me nonetheless. Now I can say that reading has been perhaps the most important element of my life. So much of who I am, what I've discovered and what I know began with a book. Indeed even being a perfumer began for me in the main reading room at the New York Public Library.
Of course my deep love of reading books is exactly what lead me to begin capturing their scents and the smells of the libraries where they live in the first place. I've worked quite hard over the years on these particular odors and am extremely pleased that one of my most popular perfumes happens to be "In the Library". It delights me more than I can say that there are so many others - across the country and around the world - who share and understand my passion for books.
But apparently not Miss Degeneres. And one might understand why I'd be very hurt indeed to have this passion for books and for reading made the butt of a cheap joke. Especially when the joke is based on something that doesn't in fact exist. And of course it is enraging to see anything one has worked so very hard on and which has given such great pleasure to so many basically slandered on national television. And to have it done so intentionally and with such ignorance simply adds insult to injury. Yesterday was not a good day.
If i had in fact used "mildew" to accomplish this particular perfume, I wouldn't have been upset in the least. I'm the first to admit I've used a great many extremely odd smells in many of my perfumes - Dirt, Burnt Rubber, Whiskey, Ink, Glue and yes, on occasion, even Mildew. And I'd be the first to defend the use of such strange smells.
Few know as well as I the pleasure these bizarre odors can give. I've spent the majority of my career watching the faces of those who encounter my work. I've seen looks of astonishment, delight, even tears of joy all caused by what many would consider "things that stink". But I know why this happens. I have always understood instinctively and implicitly the connection between smell and feeling.
That smell sparks memory is a misconception. Memory is evoked because sense of smell records the emotions we feel during the experiences of our lives. But this rarely happens consciously. When we encounter these smells again, emotion is triggered and the memory returns. The memory is an afterthought created by the emotion itself. I've read a good many studies that bear this out.
And I've always known that sometimes the odd odor, the weird smell, the strange scent is just the thing that will open a certain mental vault, the past comes flooding back and we are caught by long forgotten feelings.
I remember a conversation long ago with a woman who finally and somewhat reluctantly revealed that her favorite smell in all the world was the smell when she first turned on the air conditioner in her beach house when she opened it for the summer each June. She described it as musty and fusty but her that smell meant three months of total freedom and relaxation in the place she loved the most. She had no idea what it could be about that strange smell that gave her such joy nor could she identify what it might be. But I could. I knew it was the odor of mildew that had accumulated in the filter of the air conditioner over the winter mixed with a bit of salt air. To many a stench but to her a great joy.
I've heard similar stories countless times over the years. The smells of gasoline, paint thinner, WD40 mixed with cigar smoke, musty basements, old clothes found in attics, wet animals, stables, even the odor of skunks a long way off on a summer evening have all been described to me by those with a longing look and a certain smile.
So to me, these weird odors have always been terribly important and that's why I capture them and that's why I use them in my perfumes. They speak of the life we've lived, the life we have now, the life we sometimes wish we had. Life is full of great beauty but it's full of the odd, the unpleasant and the strange as well. We may overlook these things but they are just the things that make life so rich and meaningful. These are the things that can so unexpectedly hit us where we live and which crack the heartstrings. It is because these are the things that make life real.
I'm sorry Miss Degeneres is too obtuse to realize this. Or perhaps she's more concerned with getting a cheap laugh. Making the joke becomes more important that genuinely commenting on life and experience. Why bother to stop and think about something or try to understand before trashing it? Running something down is so very simple and sadly so popular in modern culture. Ignorance is so safe and comfortable.
Naturally I'm still extremely angry about Miss Degeneres' slurs against "In the Library" broadcast yesterday and now all over the internet but i'll deal with that somehow. As, for Ellen herself, well, sucks to be her. All I could suggest is that she hire a few fact checkers who actually know how to do their jobs and perhaps take two minutes to make sure of what she's talking about...