Nothing says Grand Perfume like a classic aldehydic floral, and nothing says classic aldehydic floral like Chanel No. 5. But I’ll be the first to admit that I often have trouble with aldehydic fragrances. In the name of personal olfactory growth, I’ll be reviewing a week’s worth of classic aldehydic fragrances in the order in which they were created. At the top of the list, by birth date and by reputation, is Chanel No. 5.

Ernest Beaux created Chanel No. 5 in 1921 as part of a suite of nine fragrances he presented to Coco Chanel. Depending on which story you believe, No. 5 was an accident when too much of a particular aldehyde was added to a scent or was a deliberate attempt to replicate Coco’s modern and blatant use of synthetic materials — think of her ropes of faux pearls.

As is true of many perfumes, No. 5 contains more than one type of aldehyde. Aldehydes provide sparkle and can boost the dispersion of some notes. When you get a strong hit of aldehydes right away from a fragrance, chances are that you’re smelling an “aliphatic” aldehyde. Although some people think of a dose of aliphatic aldehydes as “perfume-y” and old fashioned, when Beaux made it the signature of No. 5 (and No. 22), it was revolutionary…

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If you don’t count my grandmother’s crushed velvet bedspread or the beaded doorway of the bedroom of the prostitute who lived across the street, my life at age fifteen was largely devoid of glamour. I was just learning about perfume, and I’d saved enough from babysitting to buy a bottle of Babe, but I scouted the mall for something more sophisticated, something people who had passports and ate caviar might wear. Then, one day at the mall, I discovered Chanel.

A saleswoman placed testers of Chanel Nos. 5, 19, and 22 on the glass-topped counter, but she pushed the bottle of No. 22 forward. “I think you’ll like this one,” she said. To me, Chanel fragrances were the epitome of chic. They didn’t need an elaborate bottle or television ads of a man pretending to be a prince in a puffy shirt to signal quality. I ended up buying the No. 22 bath oil. The oil was fragrant and much less expensive than the Eau de Toilette. (The prostitute had been terrible about paying her babysitting bill.) The inside of my wrists and behind my ears were well moisturized that year…

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