“The souk! It smells like the SOUK! Yes…the SOUK!” In the middle of Bullocks Wilshire’s perfume gallery stood a statuesque African woman (Senegalese, if I remember correctly) — she was wearing a striped green-and-red silk wrap-dress, and had on enough gold jewelry to crush a lesser woman. “Madame” (“madame” was what the sales woman called her) stood with one hand on her hip and the other hand thrust out in front of her, palm facing the ceiling; she waved this Bijan perfume-moistened arm to and fro and took deep breaths of the scented air around her. Ever since, I’ve not looked at the famous Bijan bottle or smelled Bijan for Women without recalling Madame; she was the personification of an Eighties Bijan woman: glamorous, “exotic,” rich and theatrical. Of all those, ‘theatrical’ was my favorite (and still is). When Madame’s eyes met mine, she smiled widely and turned up her chin — I was then but a ‘babe’ and I felt weak in the knees.

Madame’s “souk” pronouncements were meaningless to me, I hadn’t been to one. Years later, with several souk visits behind me, I can see her point. Vintage Bijan for Women smelled like the air of a crowded Middle East market…

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