Perfumes: The A-Z Guide

by Luca Turin, Tania Sanchez

Pompous names, bizarre ads, hundreds of new scents a year—the multibillion-dollar business of fragrance has long resisted understanding. At last the first critical—and critically acclaimed—guide to perfume illuminates the mysteries of this secretive industry. Lifelong perfume fanatics Luca Turin (best known as the subject of Chandler Burr's The Emperor of Scent) and Tania Sanchez exalt, wisecrack, and scold through their reviews with passion, eloquence, and erudition, making this book a must-have for anyone looking for a brilliant fragrance—or just a brilliant read.

Genres: Nonfiction, Reference, Fashion, Art, History, Science, Lifestyle

640 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2008

About the author

Luca Turin is a biophysicist with a long-standing interest in the sense of smell, the art of perfume, and the fragrance industry.

Reviews

[Courtney]

This book is equally fun and frustrating. Turin is a major voice in the burgeoning world of perfume criticism, and he has a lot of knowledge and a gift for sharp insights. I often pick this up when I sample something new to see what the book says about it, and the reviews are very entertaining. What pains me is the 5-star rating system they chose to use. It appeals to our "bottom line" mentality but I worry it will lead less experienced perfume-lovers to start thinking in terms of rankings and to dismiss some wonderful scents. Anyone who has explored the world of perfumery knows that fragrances can be critiqued endlessly in terms of their quality, artistry, and execution, but there is also a deep personal connection to scent that isn't easily translated into an objective-seeming rating system. It's arguable whether star ratings on sites like these cause the same problems, but at least we get a chorus of opinions rather than one overarching "expert" guide.

[Mimi · Rating 5 out of 5]

How could something as shapeless and evanescent as smell have a history and a culture?

[...]

For the moment, let's just say that, like all other arts, perfume should engage our attention to a satisfying end, first creating an expectation and then satisfying it in a way different and better than you hoped.

[...]

Perfumes seem to come in various weights and sizes, to have different personalities, to wear different clothes, to worship different deities. Some perfumes are facile and some are complicated; some are representative, some abstract. Above all, some are better than others.

Shots fired. This book gets down to the point quickly, and the authors don't mince words in their critiques.

As the title says, this is a large reference guide that contains a series of connected essays about perfumery. Before it gets into the reference part, you get history, science, methodology, etymology, explanation of the art and production of perfumery, chronology of hits and misses throughout the years, and a moment of silence for all the discontinued greats. Mostly though, what it is is a collection of reviews by two of the most trusted, respected, and valued reviewers in the industry.

The authors are husband and wife Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez, and they are considered pillars of the community. This in itself is a huge deal because the perfume community is quite--what's the word--snobby. Turin is a biophysicist and Sanchez is a journalist, and reviewing perfumes is their hobby. Their backgrounds lend a scientific basis to this book and each review of the perfumes sampled. Turns out, there's actually a science to the scents you're drawn to, but of course it's not a hard science. More research is needed here.

What I find most interesting about this book is that it's made me realize I don't have expensive taste. As a matter of fact, I've never had expensive taste. My taste in perfumes, and perhaps in art in general, veer toward simple, clean, and generic. Most of the scents I like are maligned or dismissed by Turin and Sanchez as "simple," "too clean," "too generic," "mass produced", or "has been done before and done better." This last one is my favorite, and it's in reference to DKNY's Be Delicious--you might remember it as that perfume bottle that looks like a green apple.

While Turin and Sanchez and I don't have overlapping taste, we do seem to hate the same type of scents, like those "made" by pop stars and 15-minute celebrities. Those concoctions, literally and hilariously called "trash perfumes" in the book, are often sickly sweet, full of synthetics, but ironically don't last past the hour. Not worth the money and an offense to anyone within smelling reach because the wearer tends to over spray (to make it last longer).

Reading some of these reviews, especially the overly harsh ones, is exactly like reading well-written negative reviews of books I love. There's a strange sense of enjoyment in the critiques, but it's not all cattiness and snobbery. Turin and Sanchez do deconstruct the perfumes themselves and analyze each note and layer individually, to determine why it works or doesn't work. Since they write so well, are consistent, and are themselves critical of the whole perfume industry, I enjoyed this whole book from beginning to end and I learned a lot, especially from the negative reviews of scents I love.

But if you have never smelled a certain perfume before, such as those discontinued ones, it's hard to imagine what they were like just from descriptions of the notes. No matter how exact Turin's and Sanchez's words are, you'll never grasp what they say unless you've smelled that scent before. In that, our language and biology are extremely limiting.

Learning about perfumery is like learning a new language to me, and this book was a good place to start because it's got everything. While the language of perfume is new and foreign, the ideas are familiar because it's mostly a language of memory. Therefore, there's no accounting for taste. Hah hah. I'm only sort of kidding. The scents you're most drawn to are often connected to pleasant memories.

I've never been a fan of perfumes because of the way they smell--not a joke--but I've always been interested in their creation--recipes, concoctions, history, happy accidents, years of dedication to make one memorable lasting scent. The combination of essential oils and synthetic chemicals and their results are fascinating to me. I'm not a purist, so I do have an appreciation for the synthetics, mostly for their lasting power. A perfect combination would be mostly organics with some synthetics to make it last, but an ounce of something like that would be worth a cool thousand easily.

The scents I'm most drawn to are organics with fresh clean light fruity notes--"simple" and "generic," according to the authors. When combined with tea, these notes smell amazing to me. But what smells amazing to you (in the bottle) is not necessarily going to smell as amazing once it's on you (because of your body chemistry). So I haven't tried any on myself yet.

While I don't wear perfumes myself, I do like some on other people, especially when I smell a scent that "fits" the person wearing it. Strange concept, that--a scent that "fits" you. This goes back to taste with the addition of body chemistry. Finding a scent that hits both targets for you is an art in and of itself. The industry should consider putting more research into this, rather than pumping out a new scent every couple of months. If people understand what works or doesn't work for their body chemistry, they're more likely to try more perfumes and buy more in general. Just saying.

This book was fun and a nice escape from the world burning all around me. It allowed to go back in time to a time when the world wasn’t burning all around me–how many years ago was 2016?

Anyhow, perfumery will never be something I take seriously because, at its core, it’s still a frivolous luxury past time no matter how you dress it, but learning about the culture and community was a pleasant experience. I liken it to visiting a corner of the world that rarely get tourists. And now the knowledge will most likely take up space in my head rather than be applied in real life. And such is the burden of those who like to learn but not necessarily do.

Cross-posted at https://covers2covers.wordpress.com/2...

[Reese · Rating 5 out of 5]

Combine three of my favorite things, why dontcha: Very expensive perfume, mordant wit and Pynchonesque range on an esoteric subject. For once, the breathless prose in the book jacket does justice to the actual prose within: Turin and Sanchez actually DO separate the divine and good from the monumentally awful. No sacred cows here: They have the balls to nail Serge Lutens on his not-so-great stuff. And the writing! Sweet Lord -- I defy the reader to delve into this book at random and not find a review that is both literary and hilarious. I do, however, object to their review of Bond No. 9's Little Italy. The world is a better place for this fresh-oranges perfume, and the civet holds it without getting in the way. Small writ large, large writ small. Sometimes a book about one thing is really about a lot. Top drawer. Gorgeous. Ciao -- I have to go to the perfume counter.

[Lauren Colombrito · Rating 2 out of 5]

It was nice that Tom was thoughtful and bought me this book since fragrance is my obsession (and job!) After I flipped through it I realized the book was basically 2 people's opinion of different fragrances. To me fragrance is personal and everyone has a different thought of what they like. Fragrance will smell different on me then it will on the next person and vice versa. And what I think is devine someone else may think smells like a grandmother on fire. And NO I am not bitter just because they gave a few of my fragrances low scores (a$$holes)!

It was all just written with very little passion and excitement most of it in my eyes was just to be coy and mean and pompous.. I could continue. If you want to go by 2 moron's evaluation of perfume then this book is for you. If you want to expierence fragrance for yourself dont beleive a word of it!

[Lobstergirl · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is surely the only perfume guide to be blurbed by Hilary Mantel, Philip Hensher, and Dwight Garner (editor of the New York Times book review). It also got a review in the New Yorker, which is where I heard about it. Authors Luca Turin (a visiting olfactory scientist at MIT) and Tania Sanchez (an "avid perfume collector") are very clever and their writing, endlessly entertaining. In an introductory chapter on male fragrance, Turin notes that the male regimen is simple and low maintenance: "Only Tom Ford and John Edwards really need to spend as much time in front of a mirror as a woman, and that because of their lines of work." Male orientals (the fragrance genre, not the ethnicity) "generally chart a surprisingly narrow route between the Charybdis of dandification (monogrammed slippers) and the Scylla of vulgarity (Tod's driving loafers)." On French masculines: "In the great tradition of Jules Verne and the voyage en chambre, the French have over the last decade perfected a type of fragrance somewhere between fougères and orientals that is to olfaction what Gap models are to advertising: smiling, handsome, studiously multiethnic, reassuring to the point of torpor." Their phrase-turning competes with the best art critics: "Trouble is, the first twenty woods you smell are the best, after which their salubrious chiaroscuro becomes dull."

In a FAQ section, they ask: "Why [in the book] aren't fragrances marked as feminine or masculine?" A: "Given that fragrances have no genitalia..." One review begins, "As George Santayana told us before we forgot who he was, those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

The bulk of the guide is an alphabetical listing of perfumes, with ratings of 1-5 stars and prices of $-$$$$, a two-word summary of the fragrance (Noir by Christian Lacroix is "generic guy," Marc Jacobs Men is "sad fig," M Moi by Mauboussin is "ectoplasmic floral," Montana Mood Sexy is "not tonight," Sung by Alfred Sung is "jasmine diaper"), and a longer description. One-star fragrances tend to get shorter shrift: Can Can by Paris Hilton ("remedial candyfloss"): "Can it, by all means." Bluebell by Penhaligon's ("hideous floral"): "Repellent." White Red She (Armani) is the "fragrance equivalent of a Motel 6." Marc Jacobs Men is a "cacophonic mix of salaryman aftershave and a failed fig note." With Lotus Blossom & Water Lily by Jo Malone, "something was lost in translation in this discordant fragrance, half cinnamon, half bare floral, with a sour, unwashed smell like the sort of person who clears out one end of the bus." Nuit Noire (Mona di Orio) is "a hilariously bad fragrance, in which a very powerful sweet air-freshener note is overlaid with a loud civet fart..."

Perhaps perfumers should stop trying to capture that fresh baby smell in a bottle: Baby Grace (Philosophy)'s review asserts, "Never to be outdone in cuteness, Philosophy's packaging explains, "If God has a face, surely it is that of a child, and if there is a place called heaven, it must smell like a baby." In its gale-force strength, Baby Grace reminds me of the lethally huge toddler in Spirited Away. Good news though: despite the vast diaper, the prevailing smell is merely a bad mimosa reconstruction."

The authors are not above reviewing drugstore fragrances. The Wind Song (Prince Matchabelli) of today "is a cheap floral aldehydic, and - unless you're on the way to the prom, desperately need a smell for your cleavage, have only $5, and find Wind Song next to the beef jerky at the gas station - I see no reason to buy it." Of the 4-star Fuel for Life Men (Diesel): "The name sounds like a lottery for guys trying to ignore Prius ads, and the bottle, wrapped in a zippered, stitched distressed-canvas bag, conjures up third-world labor making frivolous objects for the idle rich. After all that, the fragrance comes as a pleasant surprise."

Some of their judgments are unexpected; Angel (Thierry Mugler), which to my untutored nose is a powdery disaster, gets a 5-star rave (though they also note it's "a joke"). They've made me insatiably curious to get a whiff of the 5-star Black (Bulgari), whose smell is "hot rubber." And pleasingly, they very much like two of my favorites, Calyx by Prescriptives (guava rose), and Aqua Allegoria Pamplelune (glowing grapefruit) by Guerlain.

[Dancy · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you've texted me in the past two weeks, there's a good chance I've told you how obsessed am with this book, which is, on the surface, just a collection of snarky-to-reverent reviews on perfume. I took this out from the library because I read an anecdote that Sergei Diaghilev used to insist on spraying Guerlain's Mitsouko on his curtains wherever he went, and I just couldn't stop thinking about the
convergence of art, history, and the senses. I'd honestly never thought about perfume history before, and right now it's pretty much all I'm thinking about.

Despite the pick up/throw away nature of a book of reviews, this book has so much depth and breadth and sheer knowledge about perfume as a cultural artefact, not mention incredible writing--I actually read it cover to cover. One of the most frustrating and most evocative things about perfume is that it can only exist in a moment, or at most a series of moments. To experience it, you have to actually be there, and even then a scent changes with time.

To write about it, you'll eventually have to revert to metaphor. Reading this book is like looking through a photo album of someone else's most precious memories and moments. And although that's of course limiting, it's also incredibly beautiful. Add to that the authors' interest in explaining perfume techniques, understanding the economics (did you know most raw materials for perfume are made in one French village?), and touching on the cycling trends of perfume from fougeres to Opium, and it's an incredibly rich experience. Yeah, I'm gonna order a shitton of perfume samples now, but its the ones I might never smell that might be the most powerful.

[Rebecca · Rating 1 out of 5]

An extract from this review handily sums up Turin's approach to scent:

"Vibration theory lay dormant for the past three decades largely because it lacks a plausible biological mechanism for converting intramolecular vibrations into neuronal activation. Recently, however, it was resuscitated by a physiologist and perfume critic named Luca Turin. While implausible, Turin’s proposal is certainly a delightful potpourri of creativity, conjecture, extrapolation, and isolated observations. And it’s brazen: a universal theory of smell based on one man’s olfactory impressions. In a grand substitution of ego for psychophysics, Turin claims that Turin’s theory successfully predicts odors because they smell the way Turin says they do." [my emphasis]

If you want to read what an egotistical bore thinks of different perfumes (remembering, of course, that he is always right) then go ahead. I found it intensely irritating and completely unhelpful... albeit with a few funny one liners that weren't quite enough to recover it for me!

[Till Raether · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've now read this entire thing from cover to cover and it's quite easily one of the best books of cultural criticism I've encountered.

[jennifer]

this book never stops giving. the review for jovan's 'sex appeal for men':

Here is more evidence of the glorious world predating the Great Fall that occurred in perfumery circa the 1980s. Sex Appeal for Men, dating from 1976, is, to all appearances, an embarrassing artifact of silly seventies marketing. Inexplicably, I love the ridiculous blue box, which must have changed little in the last thirty years, with its retro typeface and bold claims of raw biological effectiveness. Example: 'This provocative stimulating blend of rare spices and herbs was created by man for the sole purpose of attracting woman. At will. Man can never have too much.' (You can almost hear members of the wearer's family shouting, 'Put the bottle down! You can have too much!') Mesmerized, I read all of the text in earnest several times and was ready for the fragrance to be abominable. It is delightful, a fresh, handsome lavendar-and-amber oriental with an affecting, aromatic anisic-woody drydown, which offers the additional satisfaction of costing $20 for three ounces at standard retail. You know, this is what guys who smelled bad used to smell like. It smells great. Whatever happened to us? How have we fallen so far? Was it Watergate? Was it Samsara? Was it cable TV? When will cheesy guys smell good again?

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm even more fascinated by the way people write about smell as I am about perfume itself. Perfume writers, at least the good ones, use some of the same language as wine critics ("citrus top notes"), but seem to be a more imaginative and witty lot. (I live for the Chandler Burr columns in the NYT fashion magazines.) Less pretentious too - It seems that you can't talk about smell for a living without an ability to call a stink a stink. I actually read this book cover-to-cover because the hilarious put downs and ingenious deconstructions of the one star fragrances are just as interesting as those for the five star items. Put some check marks in the margins, too, in case my husband, who bought me this book for Christmas - thanks! - wants to buy me something else.

[Paula · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bought the Kindle version specifically so I'd have on my phone. You never know when you'll find yourself wandering the perfume dept, and you could make some bad choices based on first impressions. These thoughtful, comprehensive reviews (which are also often funny) have led me to sample stuff I'd never have considered (Angel, Lolita Lempicka) and more fully appreciate what I'm smelling. Happy to know that no matter how appealing the bottle and pedigree, I never have to consider buying any of Creed's expensive stuff...and that eventually I will spring for a bottle of Joy.

[Jena · Rating 2 out of 5]

I know everything about fragrances now.

2-stars: Some of the descriptions were creative and fun to read, but overall these authors are snobs.

Wear what you like, folks. (Spritz conservatively.)

[Ashley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not as great as the 2018 version, but still fantastic. The great reviews are both informative and evocative—describing scent and the science behind it really is an art.

But my God. The pans are so good. SO good. Here’s my favorite for “Ultraviolet” by Paco Rabanne:

“The bathrooms in hell smell like this. Aggressively, blindingly horrible, the worst part of fake grape flavor bolstered by the strongest artificial sweet amber concocted by man or devil. I want to cry.”

I can’t even begin to explain how fun reading a book of perfume reviews has been. (My wallet, on the other hand, is crying. Samples add up!)

[Anna · Rating 5 out of 5]

In a word, wow. I could have never imagined that a book that is 1500 perfumes reviewed in alphabetical order could be that exciting. I started reading being only mildly interested in the topic and finished a few months later appreciating perfume on the whole new level and already having collected a box full of perfume samples. As 1500 reviews only got me craving more, my copy of 'Perfumes 2018' from the same authors is already on its way from Amazon. Thank you for showing me the new world, LT and TS.

[Trin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thorough guide to the world of fragrance...at least through 2008, which is as far as this revised edition goes. I would kill for an update, but I still value the historical reference this book provides, plus the evocative, tempting, enjoyably snarky style of the reviews, despite some dated references. (I had forgotten how obsessed everyone was in the mid-aughts with pashminas.)

Even dated as it is, it is tragic that this book is now out of print. Come on, Penguin! Don't be cruel.

[Sarah Madani]

Why do Western perfumers think that France is the only country with perfume? Ridiculous.
This book only covers the western market and is terribly lacking when it comes to the East, with oud and attars of India and the market of the Middle East (which by the way existed in 2008; much to the surprise of the "expert" authors)
Orientals had a short paragraph with the title of Lawrence of Arabia. I have never seen good perfume disgraced this way; I now question these reviews and how murky they must be because of the air of western superiority of the critics.
I am aware that there is a 2018 version, let's hope that is better than this glorification of mundane floral western fragrances.

[Dianna · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel a little guilty marking this book as "read" when I definitely read no more than 10% of it. Make no mistake, I flipped through every single page, read the introductory chapters, the FAQs and even the glossary. But the meat of the book featured reviews (some as short as a few words, while Chanel No. 5 commanded 2 pages) of hundreds of fragrances. While I immensely enjoy fragrance and consider myself a novice collector, I have no personal experience with most of the perfumes reviewed, so the reviews would have meant nothing to me. Since this is the 2009 edition, most of the fragrances have either been discontinued or have lost their mass appeal while new fragrances I'm familiar with have not yet been released. I initially thought I would want to read their 2018 update, which would inevitably contain many of the new fragrances with which I am familiar, but I think I will pass.

It's very clear the authors are knowledgeable about fragrance, the chemical composition, the history, the marketing, etc. However, when you become that knowledgeable, it's easy to become pretentious and uppity, which is what happened here. Yes, I understand reviews are naturally critical, and with their experience, there is a lot to critique from quality of ingredients to artistry to creativity to execution. However, fragrance is also very personal and what one considers repulsive is enjoyed immensely by another, regardless of quality and execution. It's like wine - I may think the $500 bottle tastes like cat piss and that's just as valid of an opinion, even if I don't have the appreciation of the creation process. It became quickly evident that the authors and I have differing opinions on fragrances. They called the fragrance I wore through all of my 20's "the most repulsively cloying thing on the market." While they dedicated multiple pages praising the glory of Chanel No. 5, which is what I imagine the Crypt Keeper smells like. Some of their critiques were just downright mean! If you want fun, sarcastic, self deprecating humorous reviews of fragrance, may I suggest the Smell Ya Later podcast. It's honest, unpretentious and does not use problematic language (let's stop calling amber fragrances orientals going forward, k?).

2009 wasn't that long ago, but it's a lifetime in fragrance with hundreds of launches per year. Also, I feel like these authors are old school. Most of the 5 start fragrances were designer fragrances from houses such as Guerlain, Dior, YSL, Chanel, Parfums de Nicolai (granddaughter of Guerlain); it was almost embarrassingly biased.

Most of my beef with this book was the fact that it was a book. It's like publishing my last 10 years of Yelp reviews into a book. Perception of fragrance is always changing (not to even mention all the reformulations that occur), so to memorialize your first impression in a published physical book doesn't seem like the correct medium. And there are only so many words that can fit on a page to describe a fragrance, I rarely felt any of the reviews were adequate enough for me to imagine a complete picture of the fragrance. Some of the reviews were only a sentence long. And the longer reviews weren't that much more helpful. There is so much focus on the brilliance of the master perfumer and abstract analogies and comparisons to other perfumes I have never heard of. They drop names of perfumers and different fragrances and their portfolio as if I'm supposed to know who they are. Anyway, there are so many great podcasts and Youtube channels discussing perfume that I don't know why the authors even bothered to publish an updated copy in 2018. The preferred medium, short of smellivision, would be spoken word. Second would be a blog.

Other suggestions - organize the fragrances by house, so the reader can see all the Bond No. 9, Jo Malone, Kilian, etc. fragrances together, not alphabetical by the individual perfume name. Also, include the year of release. It says a lot about the perfume knowing the context and trends of that time (especially when the reviews are not super helpful).

The best part was the FAQs. I have so many questions, and it would be informative to read an entire book just for education of straight facts.

[CC · Rating 5 out of 5]

I knew next to nothing about perfumes until personal circumstances elevated my sense of smell to heightened Labrador, and suddenly I smelled everything. Along came Luca Turin, the very last Renaissance man, with an analytical mind that nevertheless tangents off into music, motor cars, design references, history or simple wit. His opinions are knowledgeable, excoriating, final, enthralled, and visibly stem from a profound love of scent. He talks of perfume exactly as anything that’s beautiful but not exactly essential should be spoken of: as a feat of civilization that can be appreciated and enjoyed by all, like good food or furniture.

Turin is that absolute rarity: a critic - so, someone who absolutely relies on the work of others - who is also, absolutely, an auteur. No one will come out of this book without an appreciation of scent and a handful of opinions, and that’s exactly what a good critic should do. Everyone needs one of these per subject: on books, music, cinema - and they are incredibly hard to come by. If I ever met him I would thank him for teaching me an entire new language that I can use as I please.

[M.K. Carroll · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't wear perfume much.

I picked this up from the new books shelf at the public library and opened it to a few random pages. "Hilariously vile 50/50 mix of cheap shampoo and canned peaches." [one star] "...it feels you know your lover well enough to no longer bother closing the bathroom door." [four stars out of five]

The authors take perfume seriously but still know how to have fun with it. This is not one of those guides to perfume you find in a women's magazine (you know, the sort that has you take a personality test and decide if you are 'floral' or 'clean' or 'sporty'). The authors seem more interested in talking about what they like/dislike and why rather than dictating what one should wear (although they do have definite opinions on that as well). They are very opinionated, which I found refreshing. Reviews are starred from one (vile) to 5 (sublime) and have a brief description (e.g. "fruity chypre" or "tooth decay") followed by reviews, some as short as a single, potent line ("A very bare violet-leaf masculine with a slight smell of wood glue."), others up to a page and a half, sprinkled with anecdotes, historical tidbits, and insider information. A few pages in, I grabbed a sticky note and pasted it to the back cover so that I could take notes (the holiday season is arriving and I am shopping for a perfume for one of my sisters). The sticky note is now covered from margin to margin with increasingly shrinking scrawl. I don't know what I'm going to be buying, but I do have some ideas for what I'll be testing. This book is an entertaining read, especially for those who are fans of short stories and personal ads. An alphabetic index of the perfumes reviewed would have been helpful but the book is in alphabetical order, at least.

[Leigh-ann · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is tough to rate. On a positive note, the writing is some of the most original and expressive that I've ever had the pleasure to read. It's funny and thought-provoking, and full of interesting tidbits about the perfume industry. You won't be able to resist reading Turin's reviews about your favourite scents (or scents that you despise).

On the other hand, reading "Perfumes: The Guide" is a bit like reading an encyclopedia. Hundreds of different perfumes are reviewed, sometimes with a single sentence, other times with multiple paragraphs, but each review is independent of those around it. It would be a great "bathroom reader"-type book... you can pick it up, open it to any page, and find something amusing to hold your attention for a few minutes. It wasn't a book that I could read for hours on end, but I think I'd like to own a copy of it so I can peruse it at my future leisure (my review copy was from the library).

If you're looking for insight into which scents are the "best", you'll be disappointed. Everyone's nose is slightly different, so a perfume that Turin raves about might be one that you find appalling. Turin hates one of my favourite perfumes, "Light Blue" by Dolce & Gabbana, but NYT perfume critic Chandler Burr loves it, so even the experts disagree. I purchased small sample of a scent called "Lime, Basil, Mandarin" (Jo Malone) because Turin was so passionate about it, but I don't find it all that special and it's not something I would recommend to others.

If I was to try to sum up this book in one sentence it would be, "Read it for the entertaining and original writing, don't read it to try to become a perfume expert."

[Kate · Rating 5 out of 5]

A brilliant discussion of many of the perfumes available as well as information about the perfume industry and male and female scents. Turin and Sanchez write incredibly well informed reviews of over 1500 scents, some of which are bitingly sarcastic due to the dross they are reviewing. This book is an essential guide for anyone interested in perfumes, and training their nose to pick out the gems from the rubbish.

Some people who have read the book have been offended that the scents that they love get poor reviews - some of my favourites weren't particularly highly rated. This doesn't really bother me as I find the reviews are just so witty, and I have to say that I know that some of my perfume tastes are not particularly classy. To be fair, the price of a perfume doesn't appear to have much effect on the rating that it's given - Turin and Sanchez are quite happy to diss some of the most expensive perfumes available. With these it's often a case of "The Emperor's New Clothes" in that we are asked to believe the hype that a scent is particularly wonderful just because it is expensive.

Now all I have to do is source some of the more interesting sounding scents.

[Emma Rose · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is not a book you can read back-to-back since the bulk of it consists of perfume reviews in alphabetical order. Part of me would have liked for them to be sorted into brands as opposed to names but no matter. The writing style's exquisite and hilarious and well worth the price of the book on its own. I read the lengthy introduction and then hopped from review to review, looking for my favourites and some I'd heard about. Very good resource book. My copy is on my Kindle and I can see now for the first time one of the big drawbacks of the ebook format - it's meant for fiction, really, for the type of text that is linear. With non fiction books of this nature where you just want to flip through it quickly, read entries that are pages away from each other, you really need a physical copy. Very interesting read nonetheless and it certainly made me want to go out and purchase some new bottles. Their review of my current scent, Tom Ford's Black Orchid, which got three stars, is spot-on (cucumber dipped in chocolate). This will appeal to the perfume lover and to the casual reader alike, Luca Turin is one of those authors who'd get you interested in anything.

[Terri · Rating 5 out of 5]

Perfumes: The Guide is a wonderful tribute to the art of perfumery written with humor and passion. The authors write about scent like others write about food or wine and, just like a good food or wine writer will have you seeking out food and drink, Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez will have you running for the perfume counter to start sniffing away for that smell that will send you to nirvana.

The book begins with several essays followed by almost fifteen hundred fragrance reviews. A nifty glossary of materials and terms (aldehydes anyone?) is located toward the back of the book for those of us who can appreciate nice smells but are otherwise clueless as to the fascinating art of perfumery.

I'll leave you with a quote by Tania Sanchez from her essay "Beauty and the Bees":

"[Perfume should:] engage our attention to a satisfying end, first creating an expectation and then satisfying it in a way different and better than you hoped."

Thanks to Bellezza for bringing this book to my attention!

[Mylee · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you love fragrance and its prismatic music, you'll love this book. I did. And it led me to many compositions I might never have tried otherwise. I could do entirely without their romanticizations of rightly banned cruel and/or endangered ingredients, but overall they write well and I appreciate the rich descriptions. Their passion for the subject energizes the text. Turin's scientific expertise in the field is a big bonus. And I love every fragrance Sanchez loves

[Sharon L. · Rating 5 out of 5]

Although there have been dramatic changes in the perfume world since Turin and Sanchez published this guide in 2008 (and they discuss those changes in their newly-released 2018 guide), this earlier review collection is still essential reading for perfume nerds—like myself.

[Bambi]

admittedly did not read all of the reviews but will be coming back to it during my journey in the fragrance world. dont agree on abt in2u her for sure though

[Lourenço Bonneville · Rating 4 out of 5]

A great atlas for fast reviews by experts.
Great to understand some history behind the biggest bangs in perfume history like opium, shalimar or eau sauvage!

More of a coffee table book

[Paferofe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Enciclopedic and entertaining.

Greaaaaaaaaaat for consulting

[Vineet Jain · Rating 5 out of 5]

You have an opinion, trust it!

[Irene · Rating 4 out of 5]

I got this one from the library and decided that I need to have my own copy, preferably in hardcover, as I love the quality of the pages and heft of the book in my hands. friends: hint hint ;)

I have to thank the Turin/Sanchez team for turning me onto some of their opined masterpieces (Guerlain's l'heure bleue, Bulgari Black). There are some frags to which I've never been exposed and now yearn to sample. So, I thank them for that. And I'll try real hard not to resent their opinion that one of my favorite perfumes, according to TS, is a scrubber. I humbly disagree.

And, I think that is the beauty of perfume as an art. It's totally subjective and very personal. While I value their opinions and writing (funny, smart...if a little snarky) as "experts" in the field who have deep knowledge of notes/accords and know what perfumes are supposed to invoke some sort of olfactory orgasm, my own opinions about the scents I love are just that--my own opinions. The star ratings will not persuade me or dissuade me from smelling as many perfumes as I can just so I can form my own opinion too.

Nevertheless, it's a great book and am glad to heave read it for the exposure to some spectacular fragrances heretofore unknown to me.