I suspect this blog is going to mention bathrooms quite a lot over the course of the next few weeks. Or, to be more precise, one bathroom. The one and only bathroom at Maison Persolaise. The bathroom that is about to undergo what you could delicately refer to as a 'complete refurbishment'. Every single thing in it has to be changed: the floor joists have gone, the walls need to be stripped back to the bare bricks, the windows have to be totally replaced. In short, not one vestige of the existing bathroom will survive unscathed.
As you can imagine, the approach of this disruption to the peace at our precious haven has meant that Madame Persolaise and I have had to visit various shops looking at sinks, bathtubs, toilets, lights, towel rails... and tiles. And each time I see a selection of small, polished, golden mosaics, I'm reminded that I still owe you some reports from our Paris trip, because one of my most enduring memories of our mini-holiday was the sight of the grand staircase at the flagship Guerlain store on the Champs Elysees. Covered in thousands of tiny squares of radiance, it struck a careful balance between modernity and old-world opulence, whilst evoking a genuine sense of awe-struck wonderment (
click here to see what I'm talking about).
What did I make of the rest of the shop? Well, I'm pretty certain that, of all the ones we visited, I found it the most beautiful. The Lutens shrine at the Palais Royal displayed an impressively understated austerity, but I'm not a fan of enforced darkness, which may be why I was more enchanted by the elegant, oversized flacons, the uncluttered surfaces and the gleaming, light-suffused aesthetics at Guerlain (created, at least in part, by the ubiquitous
€12,500 Baccarat bee). Or maybe I was just won over by the weight of history:
Nahema,
Shalimar,
Mitsouko,
Habit Rouge,
Jicky,
Chamade... it was hard not to be moved by the force of these near-mythical names. I'd seen them hundreds of times in other shops, of course, but this was different. I was now encountering them in their spiritual home.
Having said that, one of the main reasons why perfume fans visit Paris-based Guerlain boutiques these days is to discover the 'exclusive' fragrances, and this is where I have to confess to feeling somewhat let down. It goes without saying that trying several different scents in the saturated atmosphere of a busy perfumery isn't the smartest idea in the world, but if samples aren't readily available, then there isn't much else one can do, short of booking a month-long stay at a hotel and popping into the shop every day to spray a different bottle. Needless to say, I did go armed with a notebook in which to store my blotters, but this isn't an ideal strategy either.
Caveats aside, I cannot claim that a single one of the Paris-only scents captured my imagination. I was particularly keen to smell
Sous Le Vent and
Vega, and whilst I thought they were both quite attractive, I couldn't quite see why they've been elevated to their current status. The Parisiennes also failed to generate anything more than a sense of muted approval:
L'Ame D'Un Héros was insufficiently different from my bottle of
Coriolan to warrant the higher price tag;
Liu was a very pleasant aldehyde infusion that tried - and failed - to compete with
No. 5;
Mayotte somehow felt misplaced amongst the arguably more rarefied offerings and consequently came across as rather brash. Even the two
Arsène Lupins didn't get my pulse going, although I concede I didn't pay as much attention to them as I could have, because I was mindful of the fact that they'll soon be at Harrods and therefore more easily accessible.
The only one that made me pause for a few moments was the extrait strength of one of my all-time favourites,
Habit Rouge. I closed my eyes, felt the familiar, sweet dryness work its way into me, and I was reminded - for the nth time - why I love the juice as much as I do. But upon reflection I realised that one of the characteristics that makes this masterpiece so special is the careful interplay between the top notes and the base. The extrait places a much stronger emphasis on the heavier materials, which strips the composition of its vital, life-affirming sparkle. Plus it costs a ridiculous €300 (why sell an extrait only in 50 ml bottles?) which is yet another reason to keep treasuring my EDT and EDP.
Now, back to water closets.
Persolaise.
