Don't you just love it when something you wear all the time suddenly becomes 'fashionable'? I feel so ahead of the curve, when really it's a mixture of dumb luck and consistent dressing. All these long skirts everywhere, i can have my pick from full, sleek, black, white, chiffon, cotton... All paired with a flat leather sandal. Long skirts are perfect for summer, what with their easy, breezy vibe. After seeing the Chloe show I'm on a search for the perfect white silk skirt, summery and sleek.

My question is, how much of this idea of Opium - of any perfume - is informed by the advertising campaigns that saturate our society? And, then, how much is informed by our own olfactory experience of the scent? Undoubtedly the exotic orientalism is present within Opium in the patchouli, the bergamot, the amber, the myrhh, but it begs the question whether the advertising images constantly reinforcing it through headscarves, reclining day beds, expensive silks and oriental patterns emphasised what was really just present. Similarly, do we identify Opium with sex because of the musk, the wood, the tobacco (favoured post-coital vice, one hears) and the earthy undertones, or because we've seen that Sophie Dahl ad, or the Kate Moss one, or the Maria-Carla Boscono one, where flesh is the currency and you're getting your money's worth.

With Opium, the kind of perfume where everyone has a story and just the merest whiff can take you reeling back to another time, I suppose the real question is why. It has been written that the reason Opium has such a potent effect is because when it was first released women wore far too much of it, soaking themselves in it and striding forth to conquer the world. The effect was nothing short of horrible, as Opium is worn by far too many people who really shouldn't wear it. And in large amounts you can only imagine the impact it would make. It's the kind of perfume that anecdotes surrounding entering lifts and being hit in the face with a huge wall of sticky scent are referring to.
I do bad things whilst wearing Opium. I sneak out of my house, I dance on tables, I flirt incessantly (which i never, never do), I fight with my friends. It's like the alpha female within me comes out to play, and I can't ward her off until the base notes, with their tobacco-y pungent-ness, die off. But do I do it because my brain is addled by the amber and I'm driven to all sorts of lip-biting insanity. Or do i do it because I've seen the advertisements, they've been absorbed into my subcobscious, and I'm forever trying to recreate that image (just as how Chanel number 5 drives me to a search for chic, and Stella by Stella McCartney inspires me to wear flirty little dresses and flash knowing little smiles). Or do I do it because I just want to, dammit?

Who knows. That's the mystery of Opium. I've written this whole blog post, and if you go home and spritz a little on you you're going to have a completely different experience to me. You'll smell things like Taragon and cloves, minty lily notes, and sticky honey. And then it begins. Well, enjoy the ride. Opium takes no prisoners.