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A review by archytas
The Case Against Fragrance by Kate Grenville
3.25
The most powerful parts of this book are when Grenville lets the reader inside her own experience: detailing that insane battle anyone who has a disability or a sensitivity feels around not wanting to be "that person", while increasingly struggle to function capably. The book's most memorable image is of Grenville duct taping the door to her hotel room, in an attempt to keep the air breathable for her, knowing she isn't even going to tell her agent about this, because it is the kind thing a crazy person does, while simultaneously planning to just surruptiously pack tape from now on. It perfectly captures the way that this kind of sensitivity can be completely isolating, not only physically, but socially as well.
And it is that isolation which fuels the rage of the science in the book, as Grenville works out that she is not, in fact, crazy, and worse, she is not alone. Her doctors, the research community and even perfume journalists all understand well that some people react to distilled fragrance the way she does. It isn't that people don't have these experiences, it is just that they aren't considered significant enough to make a real difference. The gorgeous fantasy of the perfect scent - and the multibillion dollar industries based on it - trumps the real experience of dysfunction every time.
As a kid, my mother's daily application of perfume represented to me her transformation into a public person more than anything else. I can still smell the wafting scent as she kissed us goodbye. I assumed then, that I would also have a signature scent, but turns out I was far too disorganised and disconnected for any regular beauty routine. Nevertheless, as an adult, when I started dating someone with a severe reaction to scent, I initially was dismissive, assuming an oversensitive approach from a man unused to beauty regimes. It didn't take long, however, to realise the strength of his reaction: anything from 5-minute sneezing binges, to eyes too full of tears to see, to welts on the skin. I learned about how to skirt heavily fragranced environments, check the backs of things to make sure they really were "for sensitive". Sure sometimes, I'm sure it would have been fine. But when the consequences are pain for someone you love, you get cautious. And most of all, I learned about the kinds of ways this sensitivity can limit your life, places you won't go, things you won't do. Many of us think of the most vocal of those with sensitivities, but there is an army of people who don't want to cause a fuss, and simply reduce their external life to avoid it.
Perfume is hardly alone in this - people with mobility problems, pain issues etc all find the modern world a difficult environment in a way that would be easy to fix. But it is a good example of how we demonise those who ask for a healthier space, without much understanding of the science of why they might be right.
Lest anyone think this book (as opposed to this review!) is a polemic, it is not. It is part personal experience, and part formidable research (make no mistake, Grenville's research is the foundation stone of her fiction and she is no less tenacious, incisive and thorough here). At times, the evidence felt like it weighed the book down for me - a rare thing given my propensity for dense non-fiction - as it had a tone of Grenville deeply needing her audience to believe her. In the end, perhaps I wanted more polemic, more sense of how we ended up here, more of a sense of a way forward.
Those who suffer from perfume will find much to empathise about here. But it is those of us who swan through oblivious who probably most need to read it.
And it is that isolation which fuels the rage of the science in the book, as Grenville works out that she is not, in fact, crazy, and worse, she is not alone. Her doctors, the research community and even perfume journalists all understand well that some people react to distilled fragrance the way she does. It isn't that people don't have these experiences, it is just that they aren't considered significant enough to make a real difference. The gorgeous fantasy of the perfect scent - and the multibillion dollar industries based on it - trumps the real experience of dysfunction every time.
As a kid, my mother's daily application of perfume represented to me her transformation into a public person more than anything else. I can still smell the wafting scent as she kissed us goodbye. I assumed then, that I would also have a signature scent, but turns out I was far too disorganised and disconnected for any regular beauty routine. Nevertheless, as an adult, when I started dating someone with a severe reaction to scent, I initially was dismissive, assuming an oversensitive approach from a man unused to beauty regimes. It didn't take long, however, to realise the strength of his reaction: anything from 5-minute sneezing binges, to eyes too full of tears to see, to welts on the skin. I learned about how to skirt heavily fragranced environments, check the backs of things to make sure they really were "for sensitive". Sure sometimes, I'm sure it would have been fine. But when the consequences are pain for someone you love, you get cautious. And most of all, I learned about the kinds of ways this sensitivity can limit your life, places you won't go, things you won't do. Many of us think of the most vocal of those with sensitivities, but there is an army of people who don't want to cause a fuss, and simply reduce their external life to avoid it.
Perfume is hardly alone in this - people with mobility problems, pain issues etc all find the modern world a difficult environment in a way that would be easy to fix. But it is a good example of how we demonise those who ask for a healthier space, without much understanding of the science of why they might be right.
Lest anyone think this book (as opposed to this review!) is a polemic, it is not. It is part personal experience, and part formidable research (make no mistake, Grenville's research is the foundation stone of her fiction and she is no less tenacious, incisive and thorough here). At times, the evidence felt like it weighed the book down for me - a rare thing given my propensity for dense non-fiction - as it had a tone of Grenville deeply needing her audience to believe her. In the end, perhaps I wanted more polemic, more sense of how we ended up here, more of a sense of a way forward.
Those who suffer from perfume will find much to empathise about here. But it is those of us who swan through oblivious who probably most need to read it.