Incredibly Specific Queer Perfume Recommendations

Why Perfume? An explanation before we GO OFF

Hi, y’all! This is the maiden voyage of Incredibly Specific Queer Perfume Recommendations, a column that’s going to be a recurring feature here on O Caftan My Caftan. I am so, so excited for this, and I’m delighted you’re here, going on this scentventure (sorry) with me!

Today, I’m kicking things off by just explaining Why Perfume.

An explanation is in order because I am a queermosexual who ~lives among you~, and I am FULLY aware that approximately 86% of you are suspicious of anything that is NOT organic essential oils from the co-op.

I know, baby. I know.

Soooooooo….

Why Are We Talking About Perfume?

Great question! We’re talking about perfume because perfume is magic. There’s no other way to put it. Perfume is a way to literally change the molecules in the air around you. It’s a way to switch up how you perceive yourself. It’s a way to affect how others perceive you.

Scent holds memory in ways that can’t be explained. Our sense of smell is one of our most powerful senses. It’s also the sense that’s least understood by science. Specific scents are like invisible keys that have the power to unlock memories of certain times and places and people in our lives. Scents evoke emotions; they can project, out of nowhere, a particular feeling you haven’t felt in years.

Have you ever sniffed the armpit of a partner’s shirt when they weren’t home and immediately felt like they were there, in the room with you? Or recoiled in disgust when you sat next to someone whose hair was powerfully unwashed, smelling like fatty sebum and grease and something thick and distinctly… headlike? Do you know someone who smells incredible, and always smells exactly the same, to the point where if you smell that scent, you know they’re at the party, even if you haven’t seen them yet?

That’s the power of scent. If you have a working sense of smell, you’re sniffin’ things all the time, and mostly, you’re not aware of it. You just think you’re perceiving things.

But scent makes up a large amount of what you perceive.

And understanding perfume makes you the puppet master of perception.

photo by Annie Lebovitz

If you’ve seen Harry Potter (yes! i am an ancient millennial quoting the writing of an evil person), picture me as Snape, whirling my cape around you in Potions I, whispering:

I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making perfume. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle spritz fame, brew spray glory, and even put a stopper in death make your terrible ex cry.

There are perfumes that can instantly cheer you up. There are perfumes that smell like bottled sunlight; like a day on the beach; like an afternoon spent laying on your back in warm grass. There are perfumes that smell comforting; that invoke feelings of warmth and closeness; cuddly perfumes. There are sexy perfumes, open-invitation perfumes, come-over-here-right-now perfumes, scents of mystery, scents of promised danger; threatening scents. There are quiet perfumes, reflective scents, perfumes you only wear for yourself when you’re alone. There are perfumes that conjure a certain person so completely that tears come to your eyes without warning. There are bitchy perfumes; there are mean ones; perfumes that smell hard and unfeeling, scents that project don’t fuck with me to everyone you encounter. There are ice-cold perfumes, the ones that instantly drop the temperature around you; there are hot perfumes, scents you’d wear on a 90-degree tropical night, slicked with sweat as you swim through the heaviness of the air. There are simple, easy perfumes– innocent ones, perfumes that children like, perfumes that are just here for a good time and don’t have an agenda. There are lusciously, deliciously femme perfumes, and there are butch perfumes– scents that smell rougher and gentler than a buzzed head bent in front of you so that you can run your hands over it.

That’s why perfume.

Because it’s magic.

And if you get me going, I can’t shut up about it.

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My Perfume Credentials

I have none. Not officially! I am not a smell scientist, nor did I go to perfume school.

I did seriously investigate going to perfume school, but it turns out you must be able to:

• speak French fluently

• afford to go to perfume school for years in France

• be able to pass difficult chemistry and math courses, which: lol I cheated my way through high school chemistry and I was in special ed for math from 3rd grade on.

No one here is going to perfume school.

But.

BUT.

When it comes to perfume, I know what I’m talking about. It’s not like “oh I’ve been interested in perfume for awhile” or “yeah, i follow a couple perfume tiktoks” BITCH NO. That is not like this. I’ve been seriously collecting perfume for more than a decade. My bookshelves are stuffed with books about perfume– the making of it, the ingredients of perfume, the myths and stories surrounding perfume, the recipe lists from medieval perfumes. I know what was in Napoleon’s favorite cologne. I know where you can buy a historically accurate bottle of Napoleon’s cologne. If, at any point, a movie has a shot of someone’s dresser-top in it, I have paused that movie to study what perfume the heroine wears. Perfume blogs? I dare you to find one I’m not current on. And if you see me laying on my bed in a onesie, slack-jawed and watching YouTube, I’m watching perfume reviews from the tiny, carefully-vetted group of reviewers I trust.

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Finally, allow me to point you toward…

The Cabinet.

The Cabinet lives at my house. It’s walnut– handmade (Davin made it.) It’s dark and smooth and beautiful, with two sets of double doors that open towards you.

It’s huge. Wall-sized, actually. It was made to hang on the wall – to kind of float, to look as if it has no supports.

Its weightless appearance is a lie. The Cabinet hangs where it does because it’s mounted on the only flat wall in our entire house that has enough metal studs placed in correct, strategic spots. The studs must hold weight.

A fuck-ton of weight.

The Cabinet is my perfume cabinet. It’s completely full, and I would conservatively estimate it weighs around 350 pounds.

I have hundreds– hundreds– of bottles of perfume. They’re from everywhere– trips I’ve taken, antique stores, ebay, niche perfume boutiques, thrift stores, Paris, Italy, friends, the internet, and even the frickin’ co-op.

Some are surprisingly cheap. Some are eye-wateringly expensive. Some don’t get worn– they’re for reference, or they’re for evoking a memory I can’t access any other way. But each perfume has a personality, a story to tell, a way of being that helps me project how I’m feeling on any given day. Each perfume is considered; each is special; each does something.

They can do something for you, too. Do you want to get laid? Do you want to smell like you’re the person in charge? Do you want to radiate friendliness, or extreme unfriendliness?

Is there a version in your head of the person you’d like to be? Is that person more powerful, more polished, sexier, more open? Are they richer?

Badder?

…Gayer?

Here is my pitch: Ask me a perfume question!

There is nothing I would rather do than help you project who you want to be for any hyper-specific occasion.

I mean it, my darling cherub. Ask away! <3 <3

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See you next time for Incredibly Specific Perfume Recommendations: Part 1!