I shouldn’t really be writing about scent this week, because it’s so notoriously hard to buy it for other people and I wanted to write about something that would make a good present. But then I remembered that the reward for buying presents for everybody else is buying a present for yourself, and there is no nicer self-present than scent. On top of that, this one even contains frankincense and myrrh, so really you have a seasonal duty to buy it.
“It smells faintly of hand-knitted tank top, in the most charming way
The scent in question is 1970 by Bella Freud (£85 for 50ml EDP). It came out in 2014, along with two siblings. The first is called Ginsberg Is God, which to me smells exactly of a handsome hippie of indeterminate gender sitting in, specifically, the bookshop Shakespeare & Company in Paris — this is a high compliment. Then there’s Je t’aime Jane, as in Birkin, which smells of not-quite ingenue and is sexy in a blithe, tousled, yesterday’s knickers sort of way.
But my favourite is 1970. If you’re a child of the 1980s, the very idea of admiring the 1970s is quite out there — it was “the decade that style forgot”, we would loudly announce, sitting there with our monstrous permed hair and enormous shoulder pads, smiling metallic ginger smiles courtesy of Miss Selfridge Copper Knockers lipstick. I mean, Christ. Now, of course, the 1980s feel like an embarrassment and the 1970s feel like the height of cool.
Freud worked with the perfumer Azzi Glasser on all the scents (two more have come along since). I’m not sure it’s possible to put the essence of a decade in a bottle, but this is a convincing attempt. It smells faintly of hand-knitted tank top, in the most charming and evocative way, but mostly it smells of louche party. To be specific: it smells of Rose de Mai (note: I don’t like rose scents normally, so don’t be put off if you don’t either), saffron, frankincense, benzoin, myrrh and blonde woods. It is powerfully delicious. To me, it’s like a song with strange lyrics but a known melody: faintly odd and completely familiar at the same time.
It’s one of those scents that makes people ask you what you’re wearing, which interests me since it’s not easy to predict what perfumes that’s going to happen with. But there’s something particular about this one. It smells like it was made especially for you, by which I mean it welds itself to your skin, so it smells like it’s your smell and like you’ve slept in it. All scents aspire to do this, but few manage it: modern scents tend to sit on the skin in a disposable, veil-like way that I don’t like at all (plenty of people do, though). So 1970 is only going to work for you if you think the best scents need a drop of something tenaciously grubby at their heart.
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Testing, testing by Helen Davies
The product Bespoke Hybrid Facial, with a HydraFacial, ClearLift laser treatment and Dermalux LED Phototherapy.
The promise Transform skin from grey and sallow to dewy and plump in two hours.
The result This facial is all about the science (cue a whizzy-looking machine). The patented Vortex-Fusion technology exfoliates and peels skin, then delivers hydrating hyaluronic acid (it feels like you are being suckered by an alien sea creature, but it’s not unpleasant). Next, a light laser smooths pores, by which point you’ll feel in need of the reviving face mask. Finally, you spend 30 minutes relaxing under a therapeutic LED light (not for the claustrophobic). I left with a slightly clammy face that was definitely smoother and plumper. It’s better the day after, and most noticeable on my neck.
The damage £300 for one session (it recommends a course of six); michaeljohn.co.uk
Rating 4/5
