It was 1995.
I wanted a perfume of my own: something that would make me feel like I was all grown up, desirable, someone to be taken seriously.
It’s a rite of passage, buying your first scent. I know why I gravitated to the Dior counter in Fenwick Newcastle, where I was studying at the time: my mum had always worn Miss Dior (the original of course – all sophisticated 1940s elegance; nothing like the new Natalie Portman version that’s so popular nowadays) and I had always loved it, but (naturally) wanted something more modern. I remember, as if it was yesterday, the assistant spraying Dune, and in one moment, I was sold. I don’t even remember trying any other scents!
This deliciously decadent, slightly eccentric Dior fragrance became my partner in crime; accompanying me on every daring university adventure, dates and dancing through the mid-nineties. Since these were the years I seemed to really grow into myself, I think it’s significant that I should have chosen this scent as my first “signature”. Coming back to it again recently, I reflect that it’s not a million miles away from my mum’s beloved Miss Dior. Both are woody Chypre-esque perfumes in their own way; both with a whole host of floral notes that are almost impossible to detect, adding mystery and complexity to scents that are of course timeless and iconic.
I think Dune reminds me that even twenty years ago, I wanted to be interesting, original and confident …and that, after-all, I really am my mother’s daughter!