I came up with a brilliant mathematical formula that explains why my favorite fragrances are tarred with the epithet "old lady."
Here it is: find out the year a fragrance was first issued, and subtract twenty. That's how old the perfume's youngest customers were when it first came out. For example, Chanel #5 was first produced in 1921. That means the first customers who bought it were born in 1901. That means that the average woman wearing Chanel #5 smells like she's 115 years old.
Well. Honestly, if you asked me to imagine the smell of a 115-year-old woman, I wouldn't come up with anything nearly as pleasant as Chanel #5, which just goes to show you how forward-thinking and innovative Mademoiselle Chanel really was.
Then I decided to figure out the average age of the women who would be wearing the fourteen fragrances currently in rotation chez Madame Buxom. These are:
by Kilian, Prelude to Love (invitation) 2008
by Kilian, Love and Tears (Surrender) 2010
Jean Charles Brosseau, Ombre Rose 1981
Caron, Violette Precieuse 2006
Caron, Bellodgia 1927
Caswell Massey, Pomander (250th Anniversary Limited Edition) 2002
Chanel, No. 5 1921
Chanel, No. 22 1922
Chanel, Gardenia 1925
Estee Lauder Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia 2007
Hermes, 24, Faubourg 1995
Lucien Lelong, Indiscret 1936
Jean Louis Scherrer 1979
Les Parfums Hardouin-Finez, Filles des Iles Floral Exotique 2007
Yves St. Laurent, Rive Gauche 1970
Then I did the math. I worked out how old these fragrances are, then added up that total, then divided by 14, and got 40. Which, if you add an additional twenty years to find the age of their first ideal customer would yield 60.
And that is frighteningly accurate.
But I obviously don't smell like an old lady. I smell middle-aged. Which is as it should be.
And by the way, check out the babes in those advertisements. They don't look like old ladies, they look HOT. Again, as it should be.
TLDR version: If you want to smell like an old lady, wear perfume, not watermelon juice.