You would think we had reached some kind of critical mass of being fascinated with the famous. But it's all-consuming: pictures and interviews aren't enough. We want their jeans, their bags, their cute shoes. Celebrity-branded fragrances — from Liz Taylor's White Diamonds to Sarah Jessica Parker's Lovely and Britney's Curious — bring in millions. Maybe it was just a matter of time before Antiquity fragrances hit the market.

The Antiquity scents are made from DNA tests performed on hair clippings provided by "renowned celebrity hair collector" John Reznikoff. Each fragrance comes in a sculpted aluminum bottle. Einstein's is called IQ and comes in a flask shaped like a light bulb; Entrance is made from Joan Crawford's genetic code and comes in a bottle shaped like a vaginal entrance. Or is that a shoe stretcher? You can also buy Marilyn, based on Marilyn Monroe; Monarch (Kate Hepburn), and Blue Suede (Elvis). But remember: These scents do not smell like a dead celebrities. They smell like perfumes… made from the DNA of a dead celebrity.

Of course these notable figures have a magnetic pull, whether for their charisma, talent or sex appeal. But honestly: Does anyone really believe that a little stardust will rub off and make a non-famous person more exciting? Or does buying into this stuff reek of desperation?

Okay, okay. I'll admit it: I'd be interested in Eau de Josephine Baker.

Perfume's Heaven Scent: New 'Antiquity' Fragrances Based On DNA Of Dead Celebs [NY Daily News]
Related: Antiquity [My DNA Fragrance]

Ms. Kazanjian's two-page story of solid text about armpits begins thusly:

I first noticed it one hot day in August 1999 on my way to a luncheon party on Long Island. As I studied a map in the car, my eye caught an unsightly bulge of skin peeping out from under my sleeveless blouse, where my left arm joined my chest. That's sort of unattractive, I thought. Over the years, I've obsessed about one part of my body after another — my fat thighs, my nasolabial folds, my elbows — but I guess I wasn't ready for the armpit… I kept noticing the errant bulges, though, and watching them morph, as I passed 50, into flaps of loose skin."

And so, because Ms. Kazanjian is obsessed with her pits, she tries to convince us that other people are, too. She visits famous dermatologist Dr. Patricia Wexler, who indulges her. "Women come to me about this problem all the time," Dr. Wexler says. "They're not called armpits, they're called gludgeons, those fatty things that hang over a strapless gown." Wexler used Thermage (radio-frequency therapy) on her own gludgeons, and recommends it for Kazanjian. Ever the consummate reporter, Kazanjian gets a second opinion from Dr. Haideh Hirmand, who has her head screwed on right. "When you first called me about this," Dr. Hirmand says, "I thought, are you serious?" Hirman goes on to say Kazanjian could have plastic surgery on her folds, but: "Honestly? It's not worth it."

Determined to get someone to share her armpit horror, Kazanjian meets with designer Vera Wang at her Park Avenue duplex, where she gets the mother of all pull quotes:

"Yeah," Vera Wang agrees. "we all know exactly what you're talking about. The armpit is nasty, nasty. Even young girls can have this problem."

No, really. This was an actual pull quote. Look:

Thanks, Vogue. You took a perfectly natural occurrence — skin that connects arms to bodies — and turned it into something "nasty" that even youngsters should worry about. Ladies, we'd better forget our health, our weight, our noses, our thighs, our cleavage and whatever else we think we're supposed to be worried about: Armpit hate is the new hot shit.

Drip Stop [NY Mag]

That review is poetic, but the one for Lalique's Le Perfum is more direct: ("Vile, cheap, obnoxiously chemical... I hope to live long enough to see this sort of faceless dreck wiped off the face of the earth. Nice bottle.") Some of the reviews get straight to the point ("The bathrooms in hell smell like this.") and others invoke vivid imagery ("a shrill little floral that feels like music heard through someone else's headphones") but one in particular caught Lewis' eye: It's for a perfume called Sacrebleu:

"If you travel at night on Europe's railways, near big stations you can sometimes see lights the size a teacup nestled between the rails, shining the deepest mystical blue-purple light through a filthy Fresnel glass. They appear to be permanently on, suggesting that the message they convey the train driver is an eternal truth. Since childhood I have fancied the notion that it may not be a trivial one like 'Buffers ahead' but something numinous and unrelated to duty, perhaps 'Life is beautiful' or some such. Sacrebleu has the exact feel of those lights, a low hum that may be eclipsed by diurnal clamor but rules supreme when, at 3 a.m., you know you're looking into your true love's eyes even though you can't see them."

The Sweet Smell of Success [Slate]

Will Wal-Mart start pumping the scent of French-fries into stores? Will all of Las Vegas reek of Bundt cake? Stores really need to do something to lure shoppers in: According to the Wall Street Journal, MasterCard is reporting a surge in online sales, especially in luxury goods. But the next time you're shopping online — from the comfort of your own home — ask yourself: Do I really want that YSL bag, or do I just smell that dinner's almost ready?

Stimulating the appetite can lead to unrelated impulse purchases [EurekAlert!]
Retail Sales Fall in Some Categories But Surge Online, MasterCard Says [WSJ]

Dr. Shoenfeld has studied lupus, arthritis and rheumatism, and found that depression accompanying lupus is not just an emotional reaction to being sick — it appears to have a biological cause. The fact that sense of smell and depression can be linked, however, should come as no surprise to anyone who's ever been depressed. Not only do you cease to feel, taste or smell, you might even stop seeing colors. Some of us know, because, once we were treated for depression, we were absolutely astonished at how the world was suddenly quite pretty and brightly-hued. What is surprising? That there might be a low-tech, ancient way to treat mood disorders. "I think that science is able to show that aromatherapy might not be just for quacks," Dr. Shoenfeld says. "After all, some of these remedies have been used since the time of the Egyptians to treat organic diseases." Bring on the grapefruit-scented candles!

Wearing Too Much Perfume May Indicate Depression [Science Daily]
Why Some Depressed Girls Can't Smell The Roses [EurekAlert]

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What's up with that? Sociologist Henrik Vejlaard says, "It takes a lot of money to make a designer perfume well-known these days. Perfumers benefit financially from names that are very famous already." Yeah, and now we have Gwen Stefani's L.A.M.B., Mariah Carey's M, Sarah Jessica Parker's Covet, Britney's Believe, Usher's Usher and Kate Moss' Kate Moss (coming to the US in 2008) to look forward to.


Although some of us totally do not get the celeb-fragrance thing (not even Liz Taylor's White Diamonds, which had $60 million in sales last year), senior beauty analyst Karen Grant says that a scent must have "winning juice" — in other words, it's gotta smell good. But seriously, what is it about celebs that moves perfume? Do people really think that the stars, aside from Paris Hilton, wear their own stuff? Does it strike you as odd that people will buy something because Diddy likes the way it smells? Does anyone else remember, that in the days of Destiny's Child, Beyoncé said she was allergic to perfume? That didn't stop her from releasing her Tommy Hilfiger-licensed scent, True Star! And with so many celebs launching their aromas on the world, what's next? Are we going to live in a world that has Eau De Hills? Eau de Heidi Montag? Please, please say it ain't so.

Best-Selling Celebrity Scents [Forbes]
Related: What Do Gay Men Think Of Vulva, The Ladyparts Perfume?

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Younger, And Faster To Pick Up The Scent [NYT]