There’s something incredibly satisfying about seeing someone do a job they’re clearly excellent at.
I feel it when I watch TikToks of Chinese street vendors chopping ingredients with incredible precision without even looking. I feel it when a coach knows the exact question to ask at the exact right time. I felt it when I saw
speak at The Barbican last week, where she commanded the entire room for an hour while barely even moving around the stage, just standing in one spot talking to her enraptured audience. (Obviously, with that last one, there was so much more to enjoy about the evening than just the fact that Liz is good at her job — but objectively, she is, and it was incredible to see a master at work.)Whatever career they may be in, when you’re watching someone doing a job they’re exceptionally good at, it’s like watching a dance: everything just flows perfectly, a perfectly balanced game of push and pull tickling parts of you both cerebral and emotional. It’s an art form.
I find a different but no less powerful joy when I see people doing things that they enjoy that aren’t their job, but that they’re still really good at.
Recently, after nearly a decade wearing a particular perfume (one that smells like the perfect blend of the perfume my grandma used to wear, and the one my Mum wears), I decided I wanted something different and a little less sweet. I suddenly remembered one I’d sprayed in the Jo Malone shop many moons ago (and then never tried again because I’m not currently earning Jo-Malone-perfume-kinda money) and wondered if I could find something that smelled similar whilst being more budget-friendly. Enter: Fragrantica.
When I tell you I must have lost hours to poring over their website! As well as the actual function I’d gone there to use — the similar fragrances finder (If you liked this, you might like…) — there were so many other elements to the website. The MySpace-style online user count; learning the “nose” behind the scent; googling what “accords” and “sillage” meant; coming to terms with the fact that “balsamic” and “gourmand” are acceptable adjectives for perfume; and, of course, the customer reviews.
Now there’s every possibility that some of these commenters are professional noses, but at least some of them will be doing it just for the love of perfume. They spend time on these reviews, really spelling out the vibe they get from the scent, coming up with the perfect way to explain what they smell:
“Fruity flirtation. Light yet slightly dark, slightly musky, very impressive. Elegance w/ a dark side. Sophistication w/ a side of raunch. Classy w/ a crooked 's.' Tarty. Tangy. Luxe. Sweet. Strutting unsteadily in mid-heel red bottoms. Gracefully twirling an updo tendril w/ a manicured middle finger.”
“I remember my parents used to take me for long walks through the park at night when it was cool enough to leave the house. I used to pick jasmine and tuck it behind my ear or bring it home to press in books. It was often very hot but damp as at sunset the gardeners would water the local fauna and fauna. It makes me feel deeply emotional, as if I’m still standing on the damp grass at night, standing under a jasmine tree holding my mums hand, sweat trickling down my neck. The whole world turning gold in the disappearing sunset. The pale face of the moon beginning to creep over the palm trees”
“It smells like what a fairy would wear when sitting on the rocks by a waterfall”
Now tell me that’s not art!!!1
An unintended but not entirely surprising outcome of this investigation is that I now want to learn how to parse perfume properly…does anyone know a lot about it and have any tips? Thank you!!!!