Anyone who has ever had the dubious pleasure of receiving a French fragrance press release will understand that it is a work of fiction like no other. No matter what the fragrance – spicy, sweet, floral or green – there’s an unwritten rule in France that the scent always has to embody the woman who is ‘strong, independent, individual but with a deeply sensual femininity’. To express this same sentiment, releases can run to 12 pages, implanting scenarios (work, motherhood, romance) that are the surface workaday cover for a melting pot of extreme simmering passion that can only truly be released by wearing said fragrance. Maybe it’s the inherent sensibleness of Brits that makes us simply sigh and turn straight to page 12 to discover the stockist number and price thereby skipping any possibility of our repressed sexuality exploding on the No.52 bus. Saying that, there should definitely be a literary competition for this undiscovered genre – and a stack of Red Bull for the judges.
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