This weekend, I awarded myself a break from PowerPointing and went antiquing with my friend M. We ended up at the Red Bank Antique Center, a huge multi-building emporium housing dozens of individual vendors. Of course I kept my eyes peeled for perfume, and I was not disappointed-- walking away with bottles of Coty Les Muses and Norell and earmarking a tiny presentation-box Emeraude circa 1960 for future consideration.
However, while browsing, a strange but undeniable fact came to my attention: nobody wants Trésor.
I can hear it now: What a reckless statement! Of course people want Trésor-- it's a best-selling perfume! Ah. But once it's bought, who holds onto it? Judging by the outrageous number of full Trésor bottles of all sizes populating every display case I looked at, hardly anyone. After a while, it almost became a joke. I seriously considered playing the perfume version of "Punch Buggy" with M: Look! Trésor at three o'clock! BAM!
In days long past, I admit I took advantage of Trésor's thrift-store ubiquity. Maybe that fancy little circumflex accent mark over Lancôme's "o" hypnotized me into thinking I was scoring a steal (all the way from Paris, France, no less). My nose tended to go along with this fiction, more out of boredom than anything else. It has since learned differently, and better. I have sampled more of what the world of perfume has to offer, and now -- at long last -- Trésor is the thing that bores the pants off of me.
Originally composed by Jean Hervelin in 1952, Trésor began life as a dreamy vanillic rose worthy of a thousand and one Arabian nights. In 1990 it received a classic Sophia Grojsman breast enhancement: what had once been soft and retiring was now bustin' out all over. For those accustomed to the old Trésor, a sniff of the redux must have come as a shock-- much like reaching to embrace an old lover only to find a big bad balcony of freshly-installed silicone in the way. For all its lushness, the sheer circumference of Trésor's cosmetically-sculpted Amazon physique ultimately keeps suitors at a distance. (Ain't no mountain high enough? I beg your pardon.)
Flat-chested and dowdy though she may have been, the old Trésor fit neatly in your arms. Compared to her '90's era sister, she's a plain Jane-- but just you try telling that to Tarzan, or me for that matter. The day I find a true vintage Trésor in the display case, all New Jersey will hear my jungle cry.
Scent Elements: Bergamot, peach, pineapple, apricot, lilac, lily-of-the-valley, heliotrope, rose, jasmine, iris, sandalwood, amber, musk, vanilla