Can Cologne Change Your Life? The Experiment: Part 3, What I Think

If you missed it, Paul’s been experimenting to see how his life will change when he gives it a new scent.  But it hasn’t had much effect on the ladies… yet.

The most fun part of this series has been the feedback. I really appreciate the cologne tips and the discussion in the comments. This is what’s great about the Dapppered community – you guys are genuinely supportive and helpful and want to help all of us present ourselves as better men. That’s fantastic.

One question that was reiterated a couple times after Part 2 was about what I thought of Creed Green Irish Tweed, my opinion of the scent. The answer is complicated. It’s also not complicated at all.

I think it smells good.

So that’s my cologne novice answer. I feel a bit like a guy given his first glass of wine. How’s it taste? It tastes like wine. Dried cherries? Tobacco? Cracked pepper? Sure. But mostly it tastes like wine. Cologne is like that – GIT smells like cologne. There is, however, an entire vocabulary of it once you get past the surface, there are scents you are just not regularly exposed to involved (when’s the last time you held a piece of sandlewood up to your nose?), and the notes are subtle and intermixed and overlapping. It’s a connoisseurs game – there’s a learning curve.

My connoisseur answer is that Green Irish Tweed smells bright and fresh. I define it in my mind mostly through what it is not – it’s not musky, woodsy, or heavy. There’s no citrus to it (to me, but supposedly there are notes of lemon verbena). It’s supposed to smell like a “walk through the Irish countryside,” but I’ve never been to the Irish countryside so I can’t confirm that, nor do I know what season or time of day they were aiming to bottle. It doesn’t smell like Hyde Park in London. It doesn’t smell like the beach in Brighton. That’s as close as I’ve been to Ireland.

Some say it’s supposed to smell like ambergris, an interesting and rare whale product, but I’ve never smelled ambergris straight-up, so I can’t really pick it out in the cologne (nor can I tell if the ambergris is acting alone or only there supporting the other components). Read a bit on the internet, and ambergris starts to sounds almost mythical. Anything, it seems, can be attributed to it, and it’s in GIT … somewhere. I just can’t point to it. Maybe I’m not supposed to be able to point to it. I do keep an eye out for ambergris while walking along the beach (because of this), but I haven’t found any yet. I have walked past a rotting harbor seal on the beach. GIT does not smell like rotting harbor seal.

Here’s the other popular question: Do I smell like I want to smell?

Not really.

I’m not sure if I don’t want to smell like a walk through the Irish countryside or if I just don’t want to smell like Creed’s interpretation of that smell. I do like the smell of dewy summer mornings, but I really like the smell of Colorado’s pine forests. I really like the smell of salty ocean air. I really like the smell of earthy dampness you find in the middle of a rain-soaked forest, and the pollen blast you get in the spring surrounded by almond trees in full bloom. I also like whatever the smell is that happens right when it starts to rain, but before it’s rained too long, in the desert. But I don’t really know if that’s what I want to smell like myself. Maybe I’m just projecting where I’d like to be into my nasal passages.

I want to smell like the best version of me, because that’s the version of me I want to present to the world. I just don’t know what that guy smells like.

I kind of want to smell like K23, the fictional scent from Jitterbug Perfume made with beet pollen distillate, jasmine oil, and citron essence.

Like a lobster with a pearl in its claw, the beet held the jasmine firmly without crushing or obscuring it. Beet lifted jasmine, the way a bullnecked partner lifts a ballerina, and the pair came on stage on citron’s fluty cue. As if jasmine were a collection of beautiful paintings, beet hung in the galleries of the nose, insured it against fire or theft, threw a party to celebrate it. Citron mailed the invitations.
— from Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins

Maybe it’s because of this, but I just can’t get into an application rhythm. Some days I just forget to put it on. Some days I just don’t feel like putting it on. Other days I revert fully and pull out my bar of pine tar soap. I have no idea why I’m fascinated with that scent, but I can tell you this: wearing cologne after lathering up with Grandpa’s is a bust. I’m not sure if it’s the name of the product, but I thought I smelled like a wrinkled-up geriatric all day – a withered old man unable or uninterested in cleaning the smelly grime out of the folds of his body. I should have thrown it in and taken a second shower.

However, I still believe my hypothesis has a chance. I think the right cologne can alter my life. Re-reading Jitterbug Perfume has helped steel my resolve. And if you’re a fragrance-freak, you really should give it a read.

‘Fragrance is a conduit for our earliest memories, on the one hand; on the other, it may accompany us as we enter the next life. In between, it creates mood, stimulates fantasy, shapes thought, and modifies behavior. It is our strongest link to the past, our closest fellow traveler to the future … Fragrance may well be the signature of eternity.’
— Marcel “Bunny” LeFever in Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins

I guess what I’m saying is this: I’m looking for a second cologne , but I really don’t want to go on a sniff marathon at the department store. I am not a huge fan of that section – there’s just too much going on in the air, too many salespeople ready to squirt. As a novice, it’s just too much. It’s overwhelming. I can barely discern the fragrances alone, without those competing in the cloud chorus distracting me. I need better advice. Got any?

I’m one click away from just pulling the trigger on some Creed Aventus.

But first, I’ve got a plane to catch and an upgrade to score. Green Irish Tweed, this is your last chance.

Coming up:

• Is Green Irish Tweed more powerful than a pile of airline miles at the airport?
• Will wifey warm up to a new scent?
• What have my friends said about my new aroma?

Last call for recommendations: Any ideas why all the sampler packs seem to be sold out outline? Is it worth creating a custom grab-bag with Aventus and Spice and Wood and maybe a few others? Or do I need to break-down and dive in at the department store? And is Tom Robbins full of shit?