I am internationally known for my severe allergy towards phrases like ‘Parisian chic’ and the notion that French fashion or perfume are somehow by default superior to things made everywhere else. This is mostly because I resent the implication that some nations are innately more ‘stylish’ than others and also because the idea of French style, as it’s stereotypically presented*, seems restrictive and elitist to me.

Despite this irrational knee-jerk reaction, I am at least aware enough to realise that these phrases are sometimes useful to convey a certain idea: in my mind, it’s an idea of sophisticated, restrained glamour, ‘good taste’ with a hint of subversion. And this is what came to mind when I was sniffing my way through the Celine perfume line when I was in Paris in July. There is nothing groundbreaking here, but it’s high quality and well edited, has enough variety but a strong overarching identity: the coolness and refinement of Paris with a dash of California, disco and rock-n-roll. As one would expect, the focus is on citrus, woods, iris, moss, musk and leather, there’s hardly any fruit or vanilla in sight.

My favourite, Eau de Californie, is a great example of this aesthetic. It is essentially a light wood scent, constructed around palo santo. I’m not sure I know what palo santo smells like, so to me the effect is of slightly citrusy, slightly smoky, very slightly sweet wood. Together with the moss, the result in fact reminds me a lot of vetiver (or sometimes of pine), which is never a bad thing in my book. The opening has a medicinal, almost mothball-y quality to it which I love, but to please those who don’t, it fades as time goes on.

It is a unisex scent in my view** – if anything, it leans masculine. You might feel differently, if you get more bergamot and iris from this, as some people do. On me, it really is all about wood. There is also a built-in feature to ensure you remain classy: it’s subtle scent and it’s difficult to overspray. I sometimes wish that it was a bit more assertive, but even if I cannot smell the fragrance any more, I know others can (they have to be close, though).

I think a big part of the allure of this relatively simple fragrance is the quality of the ingredients – it smells expensive, in a good way. The bottle is absolutely gorgeous too, with its heavy glass, simple lines and magnetic cap. This brings me back to this idea of superior French perfume. It is obviously not conjured out of thin air: the French have a long and proud tradition of making fragrances, they have the know-how, the skills, the ingredients and, crucially, the money to make beautiful perfumes. And while it’s never guaranteed, sometimes the result really is very elegant and very French.

*There are of course many women in France who do not dress like that. And there are obviously different versions of French chic – Hedi Slimane’s is not the same as Catherine Deneuve’s or Jeanne Damas’s. I am on purpose ignoring the whole new vs old Ce(é)line debate here, it’s been done to death.

**As you know, I strongly believe all genders can wear all scents, this is just meant to give you a better idea of the smell.