Stuck in Heathrow T4

So what do you do in Terminal 4 for three hours?

You can get a bit of exercise, walking from one end to the other, you can get a decent coffee, a smoothie and a wrap. You can catch up on your sniffing, which is what I did when fog struck The Netherlands and left a planeload of us wandering aimlessly in the air conditioned time warp that departure lounges become when you're not sure you're going to be allowed out.

T4 used to be the cool trendy one; now it's Terminal 5's dowdy cousin. 

All the same it's got its own Jo Malone, which was drenched in their pink rose that's raising money for their breast cancer charity. And naturally, there's a massive duty free palace with testers and smelting strips for your olfactory needs.

It was quiet. A Burmese women showed me all around Estee Lauder's collection, and we had a chat about whether she'd be able to visit her family soon, now her home is opening up again.  I was put off Beautiful some years ago as a gobby, arrogant, loud, rude distant relative wears it. When she announced that she always wore it, I was tempted to ask when she thought it might start working... I resisted. Anyway, a guided refresher in White Linen, Youth Dew and the rest was rather handy.

Then on to the new stuff. 

YSL's Manifesto was curiously familiar, but so many of them are. It's hard to be groundbreaking when you've got a bundle of launches every year, I imagine. But the reason this one smelled like something I know was that it smells like Says Alice, a special edition one of Mr C's cousin's commissioned for his sister's 21st. A coincidence.

So I headed for the men's section and Thierry Mugler's collection of tactile testers. It's right at the back. Just keep walking. I tried and loved the leather one and the Havana one, sweet tangy tobacco. I don't hold with this men/women/unisex breakdown. Thee agree some men's scents I'd never wear but that's not because they're for men, it's because they're god awful. This one is gorgeous and affordable. Bless them and their idiosyncrasies in a bland market. Go try and buy.

And next time you're stuck in T4, head to the back of duty free and sniff out some rarities.

Aeroplane, from Detaille, Paris perfumer

I almost don't want to tell you about Detaille. It's my favourite secret French perfumer, going since 1905 in the same shop, selling beautiful scents and skincare.
But I will. Because I'm kind.
It's not so secret that it hides from the world. Their website  - detaille.com - used to be in the most idiotically charming English, tranlsated word for word from the French.

Here's an example, describing one of their men's fragrances, which I wear a lot - but Mr C wears more often:

Aéroplane

Cyprus Citrus

A few fresh touches where lemon, bergamot and petit grain prevail, an aromatic touch of basil and mint on a chypre background, an elegant wake of patchouli and oak moss.

Isn't that lovely? They don't realise that the English perfume community translates 'chypre' into 'chypre', not Cyprus, and that we keep the word 'sillage' instead of wake. The packaging has the original 1920s illustrations, and the bottles look as if they've not changed since their art deco design. As for the scents, I'd say that they're timeless. Aeroplace is like all the best of all the citrus chypres - Eau de Lancome, Trophee Lancome, Eau de Rochas and Eau Sauvage - rolled into one but stronger.