Many a perfume lover will tell you that layering perfumes is an insult
to the perfumers and a good way to ruin a piece of art that is already
complete unto itself – like listening to Mozart’s Requiem and the
Well-Tempered Clavier at the same time.
Others will say, lighten up. Even Jean-Claude Ellena, a master
perfumer himself, advocates layering perfumes to create certain effects
and highlight a material or facet of one or both compositions. You can
find some of Ellena’s suggested combos, as featured in French
Elle, on Bois de Jasmin.
Some of them are tame – adding Pleasures to Diorissimo seems harmless,
one being a super-clean musky-aldehydic floral, the latter a textbook
lily of the valley. Together, they’d conjure images of an ur-mother
doing ur-laundry. Others are downright shocking – only a true
misanthrope would attempt layering Angel, the original patchouli
gourmand, with the ‘90s aquatic L’Eau d’Issey. They are completely different and both loud as a vacuum cleaner.
As long as a little care is exercised (new combinations should be
test-driven in the privacy of your own home), I find layering to be fun
and rather creative – along the lines of modifying published recipes to
your own tastes, or at least going crazy with your pizza toppings. It’s
also a good way to get more use out perfumes that are a little boring on
their own or otherwise unsatisfactory – add something you like and give
it new life.
If you’re looking for some layering guidelines, here’s what I’d suggest:
Start with one complex perfume and one simple one:
Ellena gives himself no such restriction, but I think you’ll encounter
fewer layering disasters if you stick to this rule. Simple perfumes are
those that give the impression of one or two single, recognizable
accords. For example, Bulgari Black smells primarily of vanilla and
rubber. Soliflores, as the name suggests, smell primarily of a single
flower, however many materials they may actually contain; see Frederic
Malle’s Une Rose. Chanel No. 5 is more complex and abstract, with citrus
and aldehydes up top, a handful of floral heart notes and an ambery
base.
Look for at least one note or accord in common: You
can use one perfume to enhance an aspect of another, making it sweeter
or more rosy, for example. Perfumes that share a common link, such as
lavender or leather, are often reasonable candidates for layering. As a
bonus, adding more complexity can help cover up any aspects of a perfume
that you don’t care for.
If the prospect still frightens you, remember these three things.
One, you can try out new combos on paper before you wear them. Spray the
perfumes on separate smelling strips (you can make your own using heavy
paper), then smell the strips together. Two, if you try a combo on skin
and it turns your stomach, you can always wash them off. (I find
rubbing alcohol, followed by a soap-and-water wash, to be more effective
than soap alone.) Three, your nose can only perceive so much at once.
Most of the time, one of the two perfumes you layer will stand out as
more prominent to your nose, the second simply adding a little extra
interest. You generally won’t smell every element of both perfumes at
once.
Many of the layering experiments below came about organically, when I
put on one fragrance and felt unsatisfied, so attempted to liven up the
party with something else at hand. Others were deliberate experiments
based on discovering common accords or notes.