Scent Stories: Thrift, Nostalgia, and More

It will not surprise you to hear that thrifting is just as much of a fun wildcard for my perfume collection as it is for my closet. You never know what you are going to find, but it will often throw pleasant surprises your way. I have slowed down my fragrance purchases a fair bit in the last few months, as my current line-up feels very satisfying and I want to enjoy it to its fullest extent, but I have made exceptions for some really special thrift finds. After all, it seems rude to turn down a gift from the thrift gods … and, I promise, you will understand what I mean in a moment.

Of all the stores in Edmonton, the one I visit the most often — because it’s the closest location to where I live — tends to have the biggest selection of fragrances on a regular basis. Is that fate or what? Hah! Anyway, this is reason why I always check the showcase first when I stop into the store. (Well, that and watches, which represent another one of my collecting passions at the moment.) Most of the time, the perfumes on display are overpriced and nothing too out of the ordinary … but, sometimes, there is a “start the car” moment. Or even two. On one occasion, the first thing I noticed was a very distinctive, familiar bottle:

If you grew up in the 90s like me, you will remember the ad for this perfume, featuring Daryl Hannah. I was OBSESSED with it.

I coveted Sun, Moon, and Stars as a teenager, but it was out of my budget and I never ended up getting the chance to wear it. When I started getting into fragrances again this year, it was one of the perfumes I started to think about again, because if you think nostalgia has a grip on my closet, I can tell you that’s nothing compared to the grip it has on my taste in fragrance. Of all the perfumes I’ve tried over the last nine months or so, the ones that have made the deepest impact have been, by and large, perfumes that were originally introduced in the 90s and early 00s. There is something in the DNA of that era’s fragrances that just speaks to me. And it’s not just in my head; as with fashion, the perfume industry has its trends. The 80s had their smell, and so did the 90s, and so do the 2020s. Some perfumes have their own unique alchemy that allows them to transcend a specific era and become “classics”, but they still retain their associations with the past for people who experienced them at different times. My pet theory is that people who refer to something as an “old lady perfume” or “dated”, do so because it smells to them like something one of their older relatives wore when they were young. Many in the fraghead community push back against this type of description for its ageist connotations, and I don’t disagree with that; but, above all, I find it a really unhelpful way to describe perfumes. It’s like saying bell bottoms are granny-coded because they were popular in the 70s. You might call them retro, but always bearing in mind that what’s “old” has a tendency to become “new” again in the world of fashion … and one might expect the same to start holding true in the world of scent as well.

Anyway, back to my thrift story. I lucked out that the bottle of Sun, Moon, and Stars didn’t end up being massively overpriced. It was originally marked $40, which was higher than I would have liked, but I ended up chatting a bit with the sales associate who was helping me (and may have been the store manager, in fact) and after looking up the perfume online, she offered to knock the price down to $25. Sold! This, by the way, confirms that thrift stores do use internet listings to set their own prices. In this case, I got lucky. Sun, Moon, and Stars is still available for purchase, and Walmart has it listed for $90. However … the current Sun, Moon, and Stars is not the same one that was sold in the 90s. The company who makes it now (Prestige Beauty) bought the rights to the name from Karl Lagerfeld, and the formula, while similar, isn’t exactly the same (at least according to online reviews). My bottle is a vintage one, and those sell on eBay for quite a bit more money. So yeah, it was a lucky score.

As for how it smells — well, it was love at first sniff. The smell is definitely a nostalgic one, an olfactory memory of the 90s. Sun, Moon, and Stars was created by Sophia Grojsman, who also created Calyx, another one of my fave perfumes. Like the latter, Sun, Moon, and Stars is a beautifully blended mix of floral and fruity notes, though in this case, the fruity notes are not very prominent to my nose; rather, they lend a sweetness to the florals, which have an unexpected edge to them thanks to the carnation note. At least, I think it’s the carnation that gives the fragrance a dry, slightly sharp kick — similar to the pepper notes used in more recent perfumes, but less spicy. To me, Sun, Moon, and Stars is like flower meadow on a warm, sunny day, but it also trails a kind of cool, dry powderiness that makes me think of an arid lunar landscape. There is a dichotomy at the heart of the fragrance that makes me want to keep smelling my wrists every time I wear it. But it is definitely not a perfume that everyone will love — especially anyone who enjoys contemporary fruity-florals and gourmand fragrances.

The second bottle that caught my attention the day I found Sun, Moon, and Stars was another throwback:

There are few fragrances more iconic than Poison. Strangely, though, it’s not one that had a strong nostalgic pull for me. I never wore it when I was younger, nor did anyone else I knew growing up. A few months ago, I got a bottle of the current version of Hypnotic Poison, but that has a completely different profile from the OG Poison … which is also a completely different animal from this: the real OG. As is the case with most perfumes that have been around for 40 years, Poison has gone through a few reformulations. Based on the research I’ve done, the bottle I found at the thrift is mostly likely from the late 80s, aka the original version of the perfume. The bottle was priced at $30, and after giving it a quick spray on the wrist (I always like to test on skin, if possible), I was not inclined to buy it. I put it back, and went off to browse the rest of the store. But after a while, the scent trail started to pull me in. I kept sniffing my wrist as I walked around, and eventually I decided this was a sign that I should go back and grab the bottle. I knew this was the kind of find that I would not come across twice; if I didn’t buy it now, I would not get the chance again. Thirty dollars was, on balance, worth it — not just because the scent intrigued me, but also because this is a little piece of perfume history.

How can I describe 80s Poison? It is unlike anything else I’ve smelled before. First of all, that quick spray from the store lasted on me for the rest of the day, and we are not talking about a skin scent here. When people talk about “beast mode” fragrances (i.e. perfumes that project strongly and last for a long time), they should be using Poison as the benchmark. It’s the kind of perfume that will not go unnoticed, and should only be used with a great deal of moderation. Its profile is unusual and intoxicating: it smells like sweet incense with notes of plum and honey. There is a carnation note in there as well, so there is a dryness that undercuts the sweetness a bit. To me, Poison smells like the scent that a Byzantine empress would have worn. It’s heady and seductive and very, very potent. It’s not a perfume I would wear every day, but for a special occasion, it’s a memorable choice.

A few weeks after the double-header event, the thrift gods blessed me again. This time, it was not my nostalgia that was peaked, but my curiosity. Since joining the fraghead community, I’ve read a lot about various niche perfume houses, but I have not had the opportunity to experience their offerings firsthand. Niche perfumes are not easily accessible to me locally and getting into the decant business doesn’t appeal to me, both from a cost and a convenience perspective. Meanwhile, even the smallest bottles of most niche perfumes are far, far above my price ceiling for blind buying. So imagine my excitement when I found a bottle of Italica Casamorati from Xerjoff for $25:

The retail cost of this 30 ml bottle is somewhere around $140USD, though it’s only available in a few places now; I don’t love the fragrance enough to pay that much for it, but I like it enough to pay the VV price. To be honest, I’m surprised they didn’t charge more for it. But, hey, I’m not complaining! Italica smells exactly like its note pyramid suggests it would — which is not always the case with perfumes! It has top notes of almond, milk and saffron; middle notes are toffee and bourbon vanilla; and base notes of sandalwood and white musk. And it smells like an almond and vanilla biscuit dipped in milk. The definition of a gourmand fragrance, though it’s not sugary sweet. I generally prefer amber-floral and woody fragrances over gourmand ones, but I can imagine Italica being a comforting fragrance choice for cold winter days. I’m glad I got the chance to try it and take it home, since I have nothing with a similar profile in my collection.

That’s all my tasty thrift finds for now, but who knows what fragrance encounters are still waiting for me at the thrift store. Stay tuned!