You’ll find I have a particular affection for the Annick Goutal line (see my review of Songes). It captures my very cartoonish Midwestern sensibility of what it might mean to be “French”, in a sort of poodley champagney storybook way that I realize is probably not particularly accurate. But Annick Goutal IS French, whatever that may mean. It also is available only in major metropolitan centers in the US so when I am at an Annick Goutal perfume counter, I am therefore in a city which existentially means something to me, the kid from small town Ohio. And as long as Bloomies on Michigan Ave keeps the Goutal coming, I live in such a city.
Eau de Charlotte, our scent for today, also piques my sense of false nostalgia as it was born in 1982 and I in 1981. There is no way I remember 1982 very well, but I have a vague sense of 1984 and 1985 and there is something particularly early 80’s about this perfume. Plus I’ve seen the pictures.
Our collective remembrance of the 80’s seems hot pink in nature. Hairspray, shoulder pads and Madonna show up at 80’s themed parties and sitcom episodes. MY 80’s, the 80’s of my childhood, was much softer with holdovers and hand-me-downs from the 70’s. Mary Lou Retton hairstyles. Brooke Shields eyebrows. Madras plaid. Sensible brown sandals. Bible school crafts. Public pools. Herself the Elf. Strawberry Shortcake. And a general air of pastel. Even the photos of my youth have a hazy quality as if they know that life will shortly quicken in pace. Still, the phone dial was rotary. And you paid extra for the Disney channel.
This is not, of course, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Reality is far more complex. I don’t mean to shatter the strawberry-scented warmly hazed image I’ve created but it also was at this time my father owned a red Ford Pinto. The ERA had failed. AIDS was reaching mass proportion. The Challenger exploded. Men still wore leisure suits. You could smoke in restaurants. I don’t believe in the concept of “the good old days.” Go back far enough, and in the “good old days” I wouldn’t be able to vote. Nor I am weighing those events against each other in depth, despair or significance. I was, as I mentioned, a toddler then so forgive me for not remembering all that.
But this is about perfume after all. And while Eau de Charlotte is hardly the olfactory rendition of “We Are the World”, I do have affection for my happy childhood. And Eau de Charlotte doesn’t need all this pressure. We’ll let Dior’s Poison handle the dubious job of representing the 80’s.
I have older cousins who were and are still beautiful and graduated in, respectively, 1987 and 1984 and I remember their makeup, boyfriends, and senior pictures quite well. Eau de Charlotte is the perfume equivalent of those photos. She is Mallory Keaton. Sheltered. Pretty. Stylish. And of a particular era.
This perfume is well-crafted and a bit surprising. It manages to have notes of cocoa and vanilla without ever even toying with being a gourmand. It smells cool and breezy, but not in a Springy way. This is one of the first cool breezes of an approaching Autumn. While other reviewers emphasize the lily of the valley, for me it shows up as a brisk iciness that makes it the perfect scent for this time of year. The cocoa gives it depth, the florals keep it from being moody, and a nicely calm air of green keeps it wise and a bit studious.
After all, Mallory was always smarter than she behaved.
Eau de Charlotte would function well as an “everyday” scent. Even a signature scent for those who are monogamous (I’ve never been able to commit.) The term “fruity floral” has become somewhat derogatory over the years as it seems to be the default setting for cheap new launches and cynical flankers. Eau de Charlotte has both flowers and berries but is never cheap, never dumb, and always the freshly scrubbed optimist. The soapiness is gentle and pleasant. If I have any talent at all it is my ability to appear as if I have showered. Eau de Charlotte would add an air of innocently batted eyelashes to my lie.
According to ad copy, Annick Goutal herself created Eau de Charlotte for her young stepdaughter who was a budding gourmet and loved blackcurrant jam. Today, perfumes aimed at young women are generally thoughtless at best, and insulting at worst. There is some hideous version of informal logic at hand: Women want men to like them. Men eat cake. Make women smell like cake. If Eau de Charlotte is how perfumers viewed a young woman in the 80’s, then I guess I do have some nostalgia after all.