No. 19, To Chan(n)el Your Inner Scarlett O'Hara

'What's the matter?'

'I think I'm having low self-esteem or something.'

'Why?'

'I don't know then, now do I?'

'Well, you need to put on some Chanel 19 and kick some ass.'

And there you go, another reason why I love my husband.

It is true when I say that 31 Rue Cambon is my new true love.  What can I say?  It suits me so well, and has already begun to remind me of me.  And to think that I had been so against the idea of getting a 'new' Chanel perfume since my 'signature scent quest' began.  By 'new' I simply mean any of the perfumes that were created after the death of Coco Chanel.  However, that leaves one with two fragrances from which to choose: No. 5 and No. 19, as it were. 

No. 5, try as I might, has never swept me off my feet.  It has always been a bit too strong, and never fails to conjur images of dusty old ladies.  (I am currently trying to work through this, by the way, so don't hold it against me.)  Despite this, I can appreciate the fact that since 1921 it has been consistently hailed a masterpiece.

Though No. 19, introduced in 1971, is still a great success, it is very different from its powerhouse of a pre-cursor.  I suppose it was meant to be for the woman who was sick and tired of her No. 5.  Or, maybe it was for the rare breed that simply did not like No.5 (as if!).  At any rate, then as now, No. 19 can not touch No. 5 in popularity, sales, or even sheer recognizability.  However, according to legend, a man once stopped Coco on the street as a breeze came up and, not knowing who she was, proceeded to ask 'what ever gorgeous fragrance could you possibly be wearing?'  Or something like that.  And shortly thereafter No. 19 hits the shelves. 

When I first tried on No. 19 (the gent at the counter put it on my left wrist and Cristalle on my right) I vowed on the spot that I loathed it (and Cristalle, for that matter), and tried to wash it off immediately after Emilia and I got home.  A couple days later I tried it on again, this time in the privacy of our bathroom.  I didn't like it immediately, but then after five minutes or so ... well, maybe it is quite nice after all.  In fact, I think I may even like it.  How very odd. 

I am still poring over my copy of Perfumes: The A-Z Guide, which I currently have on loan from the library.  The review of No. 19 is fascinating to me -- maybe even a bit self-revelatory, which is why I refuse to quote it in its entirety here (it's a bit of a sore spot right now).  Just suffice it to say they gave it 4 stars, which is very good.  Anyway, Tania Sanchez, in the last line of her review, says: 'this extraordinary perfume appeals to any woman who has ever wished to know what it is to be heartless.'

Now let me just say this, one of my favorite all-time characters in fiction is Scarlett O'Hara.  Yes, that's right, Scarlett O'Hara.  (You know?  Good old Gone With the Wind and all that?)  The woman is amazing -- beautiful, charming, swindling, manipulative, and extremely reprehensible.  She belongs very much to the end-justifies-the-means school of thought.  But to be frank, the only truly abhorrent thing she does within those nearly 1,000 pages is working the prisoners at her timber company (quite literally) to death.  Pushing that aside though (and maybe a few other scenes), Scarlett is phenomenal.  She is a survivor and, as despicable as she could be, she took care of everybody.  Her family would have literally starved to death but for her labors.  And this is the reason I idolize her.  She was a mega-bitch; heartless and lacking a conscience.  But she also stood up when no one else would or could -- and she took care of everyone.  The woman got things done.

I wish so much that I had some of Scarlett O'Hara in me.  (I've been lamenting this fact for a few years now with my sister.)  And this is where No. 19 comes in.  However, let me make it perfectly clear that Miss O'Hara would have shunned this fragrance.  In fact, she probably would have given it to her enemies.  Instead, she would have worn an ultra-feminine floral that would, in turn, cause others to believe her to be sweet and naïve -- which she clearly was not.  (See what I mean?  Manipulative.)  And this, as much as a fragrance can be, is going to be my secret weapon, my own personal Scarlett O'Hara, if you will; worn when business needs tending to, heads need to roll, and all that.  Or, frankly, if I just need a good bolstering so that I may finally be taken seriously.  I'll let you know how it turns out.