Scent & Sensibilty

                      

 

Scent and Sensibility: Stepping off the Fragrance Train

During the pandemic, I stumbled into a more aromatic corner of the internet: Perfume YouTube.

I’ve always loved a good scent—in bath bombs, candles, air mists. And really, who doesn’t want to smell like a whisper of jasmine or a Parisian breeze? But back then, I owned exactly two bottles of perfume. And truthfully, I forgot to wear them half the time. Fragrance had always been a pleasant addition, but never a lifestyle.

Then came the videos.

Suddenly, I was watching men and women with shelves that looked like mini Sephoras, sharing their “top 10 vanillas” or “coziest fall fragrances.” Some creators wore full glam with opera gloves just to talk about citrus notes. Okay, I’m making up the part about the opera gloves.

At first, this world was strange. I couldn’t fathom why anyone needed 300 perfumes. But their joy was infectious—and before I knew it, I was thinking, “Maybe I do need a new signature scent.”

Curiosity grew. I ordered samples. (Paid for with my own pennies, thank you.) Then came a couple of 50 ml bottles. A few travel sprays. A body mist or two. And eventually, I purchased two full-sizes of bottled beauty. Most were discounted, but still… I’d crossed into olfactory insanity.

And I felt it. Not just in my wallet—but in my conscience.

I’m not a wealthy woman. And something about having “an uplifting summer citrus with aquatic notes” or “a dark sexy oud for late-night canoodling” started to feel… a bit much. What happened to my inner minimalist? My environmentalist conscience?

That’s when I hit pause.

I wasn’t spiraling—but I could see how easy it would be. The thrill of a new release, the allure of a perfect spicy vanilla patchouli. Yikes.

So, I said enough.

No more chasing the perfect fragrance. I would go back to appreciating perfume the way I always had—intimately, intentionally, and without turning my apartment into a fragrance bar.

Now? If something runs out, maybe I’ll replace it. Maybe I’ll try something new. And yes, I’ll still watch a fragrance video here and there—because sometimes watching someone describe “a jammy rose scent with patchouli and sandalwood base notes”  is oddly comforting.

I’m just glad it never turned into a full-blown obsession. It’s been more like a charming, but somewhat expensive, detour. And in the end, it brought me back to something real: a reminder that less can still be lovely,