We live in times of great excess. No one seems to show any inclination towards being a better person anymore. Not in the sense of being useful and helpful to others at least. They all want to be extremely famous and make shedloads of money. Especially younger people, who found this web of trivialities already woven when they were born.

Bruce Dickinson in "Tattooed Millionaire" has described perfectly what I'm talking about.

"Bodyguards, porn stars, gold credit cards.

Using each other. Running for cover."

And to think that this song was written in 1990...Since then the media have domineered our reality, achieving status which in no way they deserve, and the frequencies have become overburdened with talent shows, reality shows, pretentious and stupid illiterate anchormen and reporters, and everything that has driven our hearth (extinguished) wisdom to coin a term such as "trash TV".

Apologies, I got carried away. Again...This is supposed to be a perfume blog after all.

However the described situation could not exclude fragrances, because as consumer goods, they follow the ups and downs of the impulsive emotional stock market. I mean, no matter how good a fragrance may be, what would be its chances without promotion to the extreme? The fact that mediocre or even bad fragrances gain worldwide recognition and huge sales boost due to merciless advertising, indicate that the answer in the previous question is "None". But today I'm going to talk solely out of my heart and sentiment. And although "little" here has nothing to do with real importance, I'm going to pay a tribute to all these little saints, who shaped our prayers to Bastet back in the day. To all these mostly unknown and possibly forgotten gems, which put a bittersweet smile on my face every time we pay each other a visit.

They are the humble ones. The ones launched with no fanfare or huge advertising campaigns. The ones that went unnoticed, despite being exceptionally good. The ones that got discontinued and sunk into oblivion. The ones that are usually sold for a song. Many of them were launched when there were only two state-owned TV chanels in Greece and internet was a science fiction flick thing. Thus the only way of making their aquaintance was by visiting the little, family-owned cosmetics shops of the time. Honest little scents, which were not afraid of failure or contempt. Because deep inside their little hearts, they knew that they were made for people that never went for the big bucks or the tinsel limelight; not even in the small towns they were living in. People like me and (I hope) you.

I hold very fond memories about a lot of them, but they're too many to be mentioned. The ones I chose are not a case of selective memory, and it doesn't mean that they're the best. It's just a quick browsing through my memories lying closer to the surface. And although I love every single one appearing on my list, liking or not any of them wouldn't really matter, cause it's the associated feelings that make a difference in the end. For example, I never liked Ysatis, but I lived some of my happiest moments in a world reeking of it.

So, a dozen of them. Six for the ladies and six for the gents. Have you ever tested or even heard of any of these?

Acte 2 by Escada (1995)

How a strange flower grown in a hostile world, millions of light years away from Earth would smell like.

Turbulences by Revillon (1981)

Lingering in teenager rooms of girls with whom we were secretly in love. And who were usually a couple of years older. The smell of innocence and carefreeness, before life took its toll.

Initiation by Molyneux (1990)

Prom queens who hated their mothers, but in the same time worshipped the ground they walked on.

Calyx by Prescriptives (1986)

Huge smiles. Bliss galore. An overwhelming summer feel, even when worn with -10°C outside. Although it was quite famous in its time, no one seems to remember it anymore. And this is a crying shame!

L'Insolent by Charles Jourdan (1986)

I've never seen a gloomier face in a perfume ad than the one a young and unknown Monica Bellucci is wearing in this one. And while I don't know if this was intentional, it's spot-on in any case. L'Insolent is a desperate, yet silent cry of someone who is drowning, but doesn't have the strength to reach for the surface. So the perfume acts like a flare, launched to get the attention of anyone willing to save a soul. Thus, I think that its in-your-face name is just a panoply, intended to deflect the world's malice against a sensitive girl. Maybe the fact that I find her stunningly beautiful in "The passion of the Christ" could explain why I love this perfume so much. So broken...So sad...So beautiful...

Atelier by Sergio Soldano (1988)

A heavy hitter for girls who wanted to smell like grown up ladies but couldn't afford doing so. Colossal sillage and longevity, to the point of embarassing vintage Poison. And that's no piece of cake.

Enrico Coveri Pour Homme by Enrico Coveri (1983)

Plain sophistication, not for the sake of it, but simply because there was no other way.

Homme de Grès by Grès (1996)

The sheer surprise of someone who fell asleep during the '70s and woke up in the '00s. He still wonders how he managed to survive the cultural shock and why Terre d'Hermès is so famous.

Borsalino by Borsalino (1984)

To tell the truth, Enrico Coveri pour Homme and Borsalino are two of these fragrances that make me wonder if France truly outweighs every other country in perfume terms, when on the other side of the scale is Italy. Borsalino was the rather rough and loud taxi driver cousin of the gentler and more refined architect that Enrico Coveri pour Homme was. If Enrico Coveri pour Homme was living in Florence, Borsalino would live in Naples. And if Enrico Coveri pour Homme was wearing a fine tailored brown suede jacket bought in a high-end boutique in Milan, Borsalino would wear a cheap and shiny black one, smuggled at night by sailors of questionable morals.

Salvador by Salvador Dali (1992)

An exquisite paragon of artfulness, of both the fragrance itself and the vessel containing it. Had Salvador Dali pour Homme not been unequaled in the known universe, this artifact in every sense of the word would be the spearhead of masculine perfumes of the '90s.

Anthracite by Jacomo (1991)

Young men pretending to be way braver than they actually were, every time a frightened damsel in distress was watching them.

Caractère by Daniel Hechter (1989)

A shocking example of how a scent can evoke dirty thoughts and make an adolescent's cheeks blush with guilt, although he practically didn't do anything wrong. One of the most shady fragrances I've ever laid my nostrils on, and a perfect fit for any self-esteemed libertine.

My perfume journey thus far has brought me to every farflung corner of the perfume world, and I've tested hundreds of scents, ranging from the least famous and dirt cheap to the most acknowledged and unduly pricey. The latter being of course tested through samples, donated by generous defenders of the perfume lore, cause paying 200-300 bucks for a fragrance never crossed my mind. No matter how good it was. But after every wearisome expedition in the messy chaos that modern perfumery has become, I'll silently retreat in the arms of my pre-'80s little bottle of Tabac Original and feel like home every single time. Cause no matter how often I forget to pay them my respects, these humble lesser saints are always forgiving...