You name it!...

Perfumes are some of the most potent image generators out there. And I believe that a good deal of this potence lies in the way they were christened. As William S. Burroughs allegedly used to say, language is a virus from outer space. And the most effective one ever I might add, since it has infected us all. Being a glossology enthusiast, perfume names never cease to intrigue me, or even force me into autosuggestion in some cases.

I don't know how a perfume's name is decided and I don't know how painstaking this procedure might be. If I was the one responsible for naming a fragrance, rest assured that Fahrenheit would be launched in 2008 instead of 1988, cause it would take me "some" time to decide between "Fahrenheit", "Celsius" and "Kelvin". Either that or I would have been fired from Dior in early 1989. What I know however, is that the name of a fragrance plays a very important part in its attempt to infiltrate our subconscious. To the point that in some cases the way it smells comes a poor second. Let's say that I don't care how Chopard's Madness smells like (it smells great), since a bit of lunacy is something I fancy a lot when included in someone's mien.

Don't some fragrance names sound like arcane incantantions, evoking delphic dreams? I mean who hasn't pictured farflung, exotic and mystifying places upon hearing the word Shalimar? In other cases, fragrance names simply support the image of the carefree life we all secretly wish for. Who hasn't automatically envisioned herself drinking piña coladas on a tropical beach upon hearing "Fidji" or strolling by river Seine upon hearing "Paris"? And by the way, Paris will always be my bastion of liberal utopias, no matter how many bombs will try to force its bohemian heart stop beating.

But in any case, what would be the chances for these "ads" to condition you into buying what they're trying to sell?

Opposing the above, you wouldn't buy a fragrance called "Slugabed" or "Lazybones", would you? On the other hand, there's already something called "Languid" out there, and I'm quite sure that another something called "Fainéant" would be a hit, cause, you know, it sounds French enough. The fact that all these words mean roughly the same thing, doesn't mean a thing when tonality enters the stage.

So let's wonder a bit in the labyrinthine corridors of olfactory onomastics and meet some of the Minotaurs (Hi Paloma!) that have either glorified or ridiculed some scent's ambitions. Always according to my humble opinion of course. Allez hop!

Cherished addictions.

It takes guts to name a fragrance after a drug the way Yves Saint Laurent and Veejaga did with their Opium and Hascish respectively back in the days. Opium even started a public uproar in some cities, due to "condoning drug use". I agree. Opium was highly intoxicating, especially if someone drunk it. It also aroused some political based complaints, but a perfume blog is not the right place to deal with this kind of things. What's funny however is that these perfumes didn't need to be named like that in order to induce hallucinations, for they smelled like some. And while Opium has become a legend, Hascisch remains virtually unknown, although any damsel wearing it in the early '80s was giving me enough reason to elope with her. And as if the original wasn't sovereign enough, they added a "Royal" version later.

Obviously depicted with the wrong kind of flora here.

Imagine someone having just returned from a trip abroad handling a parcel to his friend while saying "I brought you some Hascisch". In front of two police officers! Spending the night behind bars is not so bad if you smell divine...

Before being monitored by the DEA or its european equivalents, I'll add that there's also a couple of "Heroine" out there already. Now, what if one of them was missing its final letter? What if it was a powdery one as well? I guess it would be the inside joke of the century; something on an Oscar Wllde scale.

Bumping heads.

Since the catchy words are not infinite, fragrances carrying the same name shouldn't come as a surprise. Having an aromatic ingredient as a part of its name aside, companies often cannot avoid launching a fragrance which theoretically already exists. By a quick glance in Parfumo's database I discovered five fragrances called "Wild", ten called "Fire", two called "Wildfire", and one called "Wild Fire". I'm surprised we're not burned to a cinder yet.

Or not seeing any beast tamers around.

Linguistics pitfalling.

I'm sure that "coco" means a truckload of things in different languages, like many other words do. However, "coco" is slang for cocaine in Greece. It's also one of the hundreds of words which covertly mean sex. Combining these two meanings, the fact that this could be a somewhat pavlovian approach in raising children is rather unsettling, since "coco" also means anything sweet in baby talk cooing. If there was another meaning connecting it with rock'n'roll, then the well known triptych would be the foundation on which Greek kids are raised. Sweets are good ergo sex is sweet ergo drugs are orgasmic.

Yeap, here's your missing rock'n'roll folks...Kudos to Chanel for providing Greece's future with such motives.

Pronunciation mayhems.

Poison was just a letter away from being fishy, since the single "s" when followed by a vowel may be pronounced mainly as "z" in German and English, but in many other countries using the Latin alphabet it's always pronounced "s" as in "assasin's arsenal" (which surely includes some Poison). That means than in some of these places Poison stood a good chance to be pronounced "poo-a-sson", which means aquatic creatures with scales in French.

Regional quips.

This one goes to Pluto. Not the ex-planet but the current prominent fellow parfumista strengthening Parfumo's ranks. She noticed that in the commercial that aired in German TV, "Bleu de Chanel" sounded like "Blöde Chanel", which subtracts some serious points from Chanel's IQ if you speak German. What choices did I have other than being amused by the way the fragrance would turn into "Bloody Chanel" in certain United Kingdom regions?

Pluto you're gorgeous and not blöde at all!

Imaginary namesakes.

They sort of creating the illusion of a fragrance being made especially for you. After all there are plenty of Marias, Sophias and Ritas out there. One of my aunts was called Loulou for her entire life, although she was christened Theodora. Don't ask, I'm still struggling to find any connections too. A very impressive woman in her prime, she could surely handle Loulou if Cacharel was around during the '50s. And I don't mean the beguiling Loulou playing tender and sensitive. No, I mean the real Loulou with the 50m sillage in every direction. I also don't mean that my aunt was impressive only in beauty terms. Aye, she was eyesome, but she was also towering around 1,80m with a body that had somehow escaped from Frank Frazetta's universe.

In which case Loulou would be way more effective in driving the feline away, than the flimsy knife she's holding. Or lure it closer if we're talking mid-October...

Nordic embarrasments.

There's no way the average Joe and Jane knows all "bad" words on the planet, but the folks manning the marketing departments of famous perfume brands should not be considered as average Joes and Janes. They're not payed any average Joe's and Jane's salary after all. Thus I'm still wondering what the ones from Clinique thought upone realising what "happy" sounds like in Finnish. My dandy demeanour forbids me from speaking it out loud, but you can search what "häpy" means in Suomi talk. Here's a subtle hint...

Unintentional gender confusion.

Eucris by Geo. F. Trumper is masculinity itself and one of the alleged fragrances that James Bond was using. By the way, England has to do something about the pension policy of Her Majesty's secret agents. At least for the ones acting in the field. 007 is fighting villains since 1953. For chrissakes, give the man a medal and send him watch the salmons in Scotland. Anyway, according to Geo F. Trumper Eucris' name derives from the Greek word "Εύχαρις/Eucharis", pronounced ef-ha-rees, which means elegant and graceful. Well dear Commander, I'm sorry to rain on your parade, but despite embodying these adjectives a lot in your lengthy career, Eucharis is a...female given name in Greece.

My name is Bond. Eucharis Bond.

Intentional gasconade.

Aye, this is about pompous names trying to distract us from the perfume's real potential. The sole mention of Paco Rabanne's Invictus will suffice, and let him who hath understanding snuffle the odour of the wimp...

Championing meows since 2013.

Bitching and kvetching and grumbling and stuff.

Finally we have a number of disputes and wrangling about fragrance names. Take Givenchy's Xeryus for example. It's a less known story, but Givenchy's initial intention was to name the scent Keryus. Yves Saint Laurent, having already launched Kouros, didn't like the idea at all, thinking that people would be confused into buying Keryus instead of Kouros. Now, how could someone possibly be confused still eludes me.

Nothing near to identical, right?

Givenchy was forced to change the name into something incompehensible, since Keryus was actually deriving from the Greek word "Κύριος/Kyrios", either meaning "Lord" or "Master". But not before some Keryus bottles had been already produced and ready to be distributed. There are some fabled specimens out there, carrying a sticker reading "Xeryus" over the initial name. These guys.

So if you ever stumble on any, please don't laugh your head off in front of the blatant "forgery", for if you let it slip through your hands you'll be soon using them to wipe your tears.

Last but not least, Bond No.9 everybody! The evil queen of the queendom of P.E.A.S. (Pretentiousness, Egotism, Arrogance, Smugness). What would you think if I threatened you with a lawsuit because you sell a homemade sauce called "Disco Ball", which according to my logic is a rip-off of my own sauce called "A Night in the Disco"?

You'd think I could use some shrink, right?

Well, this is exactly what Bond No.9 did against Soivohle and Anya's Garden, claiming that Soivohle's "Riverside" and Anya's Garden's "Peace on Earth" were shameless infringements, violating Bond No.9's god-given rights on the words "riverside" and "peace"...No, I'm not joking. Liz Zorn and Anya McCoy received bullying letters, because Bond No.9 has two fragrances called "Riverside Drive" and "The Scent of Peace". It also has an army of lawyers, paid by the thousands of people who buy their pretentious and preposterously priced crap. Pardon my French, but these tactics redefine absurdity.

As Gaia Fishler has put it in her well worth reading and audacious blog, http://www.thenonblonde.com :

Do you think that a similar letter was sent to LVMH, the owners of Kenzo's "Time for Peace"? My money would be on "No".

You're absolutely right Gaia, my money would be on the same bet. And I'd bet some in "dastard" too. If there was any poetic justice in the perfume world, I'd love to see the state of Texas suing them for this champion of "finesse".

My three most favourite fragrance names ever, are Angeliques Sous La Pluie, Après L'Ondée and Embrujo de Sevilla. Two of them about comforting rain, one of them about the bewitching splendour of yore, all of them like lyrical poem titles caressing my ears. Habanita, Mitsouko and Byzance are their slightly less dramatic surrogates which fuel the diversity of what sounds dulcet in people's ears. I'd really love to know what fragrance names make your hearts skip a beat everytime they're uttered.

P.S.: If you don't hear from me anytime soon, it will be probably because Bond No.9 has me arrested...