Samples of Ramón Monegal’s new perfume line, all fourteen fragrances, landed on my desk months ago. I was overwhelmed by the number of perfumes, but over the course of several days, and using each finger on both hands, and both wrists, and forearms, and even a friend at work, I tried them all. Some of the perfumes I immediately deemed unwearable (for me) — even applied in small quantity (they were hyper-feminine and sweet). The fragrance I had my female friend try, Kiss My Name, almost ruined our relationship; I applied only a drop to her wrist and this sent her sprinting to the sink where she furiously scrubbed her wrist with hot water and dishwashing liquid. Still, the fragrance persisted, nay, DOMINATED the office, because it was on the sleeve of her shirt. Her choices were few: walk around in her bra all day, shirtless (she said she seriously considered doing this), or grin and bear it till she got home and threw her shirt in the wash.
My overall reaction to the Monegal line was: “Ho hum.” Then I remembered what I’m always preaching: “To know what a perfume really smells like, don’t DAB, pour it on! Empty some samples vials!” There was no way I was going to devote two weeks of my life to Ramón Monegal fragrances (14 perfumes, 14 days) so I put all ten I’d consider wearing (deleting the “No way!” scents from the competition) on my dining room table, scattered them about, closed my eyes and picked five fragrances to wear over the course of a week…
