Thierry Mugler 'Angel Men Pure Coffee' Fragrance

I'm not a perfume person.

Ok, maybe I should rephrase that and say that I am of the type that formerly eschewed wearing fragrance, since this post will tell the brief story of my recent conversion from fragrance-free to in fragrante (and yes, I realize that's not a real term, so don't bother sending any electronic umbrage in my direction, thank you very much).

I had always assumed my aversion to applied fragrance stemmed from an oversensitivity to the entire genre -- sneezing, watery eyes, skin rashes and a general feeling of free-floating revulsion whenever an atomizer went off in my direction. It didn't help that most men's perfume/cologne reeked of chemical fertilizer, burnt rubber and sink cleanser (oh, sorry, I meant to say "top notes of citrus, a woodsy mid-range and a drydown like fresh laundry hanging in the sun" -- yeah, right), and once there was added the insult of horny teenagers and thirty-something gay men dousing themselves repeatedly with what seemed like vats of the stinking juices, I think it's easy to understand my less than positive reception to the world of eau de toilette.

But I am now older, wiser and more prone to forgive the transgressions of youth (if not outright revisit them from time to time), so Thierry Mugler's Angel Men Pure Coffee has taken advantage of this late-breaking folly to penetrate my shields and burrow its toasty, gourmand hooks into my central console. My life will never be the same -- well, that's not entirely true; actually, my life is still very much the same (eating, breathing, drinking, sleeping, it all becomes a blur), I just smell better in the process.

I was tempted to dip my toe into the fragrance pool after reading Chandler Burr's The Perfect Scent: A Year Inside the Perfume Industry in Paris and New York, a behind the scenes look at the development of two commercial fragrances, Sarah Jessica Parker's Lovely, and Un Jardin sur le Nil for Hermès. It's a tale of movers and shakers, artists and money men, and by the time I was finished with it I had a newfound appreciation for everything that goes into creating a quality scent for the commercial market, not to mention the exactlng and most often anonymous work of the devoted perfumers behind the big designer/celebrity names slapped on the labels.

I learned that contemporary perfumes are crafted mostly out of synthetic ingredients (with some natural oils or distillations thrown into the mix), but that this is a good thing as synthetics have opened the door to possibilities in scent that were simply not feasible when utilizing a strictly natural formula. I discovered that cheap perfumes can be great and exorbitantly expensive scents can be revolting, that the bottling and packaging for the perfume is more expensive than the juice itself, and that the majority of male fragrances are so awful because the fragrance companies understand the general male aversion towards smelling like a girl, so they concoct fragrances that pretty much annihilate the idea of anything girly by smothering it in harsh, chemical-type scents reminiscent of drain cleaners and burnt plastic (with a hint of patchouli, of course).

I also learned that perfumes are a huge cash cow for designer labels, and that one blockbuster scent can rake in hundreds of millions in revenue before its time has passed on the cultural radar . . . and here I thought the perfume industry was just some minor sideshow to the clothing and accessories. Foolish, foolish me.

After reading Chandler Burr's book, I was intrigued and cruised over to his perfume reviews for the New York Times. The way Chandler Burr writes about scents and fragrances makes them seem somehow important, valuable even, and it's difficult not to get all little-kid, jump-up-and-down excited when I read lines such as the following from his very complimentary review of the Mugler Pure Coffee fragrance: "Pure Coffee starts with coffee and then grows. It's slightly candied by moments, then slightly chocolate at others, which is a very different effect. It's a distinct chocolate too, oscillating invisibly between semi-sweet, milk, and bitter/black -- it brings to mind a pastry chef's cool, dewy, sugared, cocoa-doped tablet lying freshly made on wax paper."

I mean, really! How does one say no? I ordered a bottle immediately (I cannot go into a perfume department and start sniffing at strips of spritzed paper -- there's far too much olfactory interference to smell anything properly), and it was waiting for me when we returned from our trip to Prague. I tore open the package and the strong scent came wafting from the box: a thick, sharp smack of burnt coffee imbued with raw sugar and a touch of vanilla syrup, a splash of creamy milk and warm mocha following after, the metallic tang of a stainless steel steaming pitcher working its way through the middle.

I love the damn stuff. When I put it on in the morning (one spritz, and then not even the whole thing, just a part), it hits me me with memories of coffee shops in Seattle; dark, rainy days and warm light spilling out onto wet sidewalks; the air thick with notes of freshly ground coffee beans, sticky syrups, semi-sweet chocolate and that toasted aroma of steaming milk; alternative music playing in the background; leather shoes and laptops and ink stained notepads; formica tables and wood floors and burlap sacks full of green, unroasted coffee beans. It lays on my skin just like that -- all nostalgia, but subdued, shimmering like a slightly melancholy pop song drifting out the open window of a car idling at a stoplight three blocks away.

I read that Angel Men Pure Coffee is a Limited Edition fragrance, which means that it won't be manufactured permanently. You mean, I might run out and not be able to get any more?

That sound you hear is me, quickly rummaging through my bathroom cupboard to see how much storage space there is for a stockpile . . . oh my god, I just zipped over to the Saks Fifth Avenue website and they're sold out! Sold out at Sephora, too. Nothing at Neiman Marcus or Amazon, either.

Oh, the humanity!