Chinatown was the first perfume I bought on the strength of a review. It wasn't even a good review, either, although it was positive. When I say it wasn't a good review, I just mean it wasn't thorough or well written or particularly carefully thought-out. It was one of those comment things you can leave on some perfume websites. Somebody was discussing the perfume Chinatown and a perfume-lover wrote this comment:
"This is the sexiest fragrance I have ever smelled."
If I lived in New York or in some place that had ready access to an ultra-luxury store that stocked Bond No. 9 fragrances, I would have hustled out to the perfume counter and tried to see if this stray reviewer was right. The intriguing part about her review was that it said everything while revealing very little. What exactly did it smell like? Was it floral or aldehyde or full of dark spices? Was it rich and opulent or light and frivolous?
Because I am geographically challenged, living far from the known hubs of the perfume universe, I had to rely on the Internet, which, as we all know to our deep regret, does not allow us to smell perfumes before we buy them. I hustled to the Bond No. 9 website and ended up buying, well, not Chinatown, but a large box of perfumes that included Chinatown.
When the treasure chest arrived, I opened it like it contained the Hope Diamond and sorted through the little wrapped flasks until I found the one marked Chinatown. I opened it slowly and braced myself for the sexiest fragrance in the universe.
Upon first spritz, I found myself both disagreeing and agreeing with the reviewer who provoked my wanton spending spree at Bond No. 9. I found myself in agreement with her: we were definitely in the presence of something pretty great with Chinatown. What I disagreed about is the sexy part. I would not have called it sexy, although it is not sexless. It's very feminine, in a sultry, smoky, mysterious kind of way. Mae West once said she sold the sizzle, not the steak, and Chinatown is more about the sizzle of sexiness than the real product.
The patchouli and cardamom in this fragrance wowed me the first instant. These aren't new ingredients to the perfumer's cabinet, but it takes some skill to use them well, and here was a blend of two pretty strong notes but done artfully and in a way that made everything manageable.
Chinatown is subtle. It's not subtle in its parts: it has very strong elements. But it's subtle how the elements work together. Some scents cry out, "Smell me!" but this one is much more reclusive. It's amazing to me that so many strong, delicious notes can fuse into a scent that is understated.
If I were to assign attributes to Chinatown it might be rich, deep, understated, complex, profound, mysterious. It might even be sexy. But it's not Marilyn-Monroe-sexy. It's more Greta-Garbo-sexy: foreign, unusual, evasive.
Of all the Bond scents, this is the one I most "get" in terms of linking neighborhood to fragrance. The heart and base notes remind me of incense, the kind that burn in thin sticks on improvised altars to Buddha statues in certain off-the-beaten-trail Asian eateries. There are notes of peach blossoms on top, which seem an Oriental kind of fragrance: delicate, faint, not-very-well-known. This bit of floral gave the scent some mystery. Gardenia and tuberose are not far behind, and they seem a bit like an Asian garden or flower market. But lurking behind it all is the rich patchouli in the heart and some cardamom at the base, drawing it all back to that thin wisp of incense.
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