Growing up, I was obsessed with the idea of a signature scent. I wanted a perfume that people would smell and instantly think of me.
At 14, I found it in Giorgio Armani's Sensi (after I dabbled in the teen staples of Ghost and Anna Sui's Sui Dreams). I wore it exclusively for years until it was discontinued when I was at university.
After that, I abandoned hope of a signature scent; nothing was as 'me' as the warm, amber notes of Sensi, so instead I swapped my perfumes daily – helped along hugely by my role as a beauty journalist, which meant I had access to an endless supply of scents.
Though I had several scents I wore frequently (Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb and Tom Ford Black Orchid), I never imagined I'd find a signature scent again – until this summer.
My new signature scent: introducing Guerlain L'Heure Bleue Eau de Parfum
One morning in July, in a penthouse in Westminster decked out in sumptuous blue furnishings, I was introduced to Guerlain's reimagining of the brand's 1912 scent of the same name.
L'Heure Bleue is named after the time of day when day gives way to night – and vice versa. It's only a tiny moment in time, but it exudes peace and serenity, presenting the shifting in time and the possibilities that change brings.
Delphine Jelk, Guerlain's Director of Perfume Creation, wanted to capture this feeling of possibility in scent form, and to do so, she blended velvety iris with comforting vanilla and fresh, crisp ozonic accord.
"L’Heure Bleue is that moment when the day is almost gone and the night has not yet arrived – twilight," Delphine says. "It is a moment of freshness and thrill; there is also the idea of flight: the blank page of night offers new freedom. Everything becomes possible."
The notes muddle together to create a scent unlike any I have unstoppered before – no mean feat when my job is to smell perfumes day in, day out.
It's easy to list all of the fragrance notes and assume this conveys what it smells like, but when writing about fragrance, I think it makes more sense to describe how it makes me feel, and the imagery L'Heure Bleue evokes.
Other than a city bathed in slightly blue light with streetlights just switching on, adding a glow to the Paris streets (for me, it's always Paris I imagine), this smells like when the evening has cooled down after a day in the sun, and you're getting ready to go out.
It's a silky dress and barely there heels in a new city that you're exploring; it's mysterious and alluring – and it attracts many, many compliments.
When I went to the preview of the scent, the Guerlain team all told me they'd received compliments from strangers while wearing L'Heure Bleue – and it's had the same effect for me. Everyone from my osteopath to family friends have asked me what I'm wearing – and until now, the fragrance has been under embargo, so I couldn't share. Now, I'm ready to shout it from the rooftops!
My favourite thing about L'Heure Bleue is how much it lingers. Days after spraying it, it still lingers invitingly om my clothes. I'm excited to spray it on scarves and coats come autumn to see how it develops in colder temperatures.
A reimagining of L'Heure Bleue
If you were a fan of the original L'Heure Bleue, now called L'Heure Bleue 1912, this really doesn't smell similar at all.
The original had that powdery scent many of us have come to associate with our grandmothers, so while it's just as captivating as the new iteration, it's scarcely recognisable.
Delphine says: "It was essential for me to respect Jacques Guerlain's work and remain deeply connected to it. Not doing so would have meant denying what he created. But I approached it with my own sensitivity, emotion, and today's palette of ingredients. This is not a replica, but a modern interpretation with the same emotion."
In summary, my new signature scent is powerful while also being intimate. It announces itself when you spray it, but gets all the more intriguing up close. I've just finished my sample-size bottle, so I'm relieved that L'Heure Bleue is no longer under lock and key,
