Rush Gucci 1999

I am hopelessly in lust with Gucci Rush. It really stands apart from other fragrances. It is not trying to be something else.
The sweet, fruity candy powder and flowers melt together, and pack the first punch. Then they effortlessly give way to the hazy patchouli to create a sugary, spicy drydown.
It is totally carnal and provocative - no soft innocence here. Spicy, sensual, hot and ready, daring, unique, in-your-face, unapologetic.
You will either be completely, utterly taken...or not. It is worth finding out!

There’s nothing I can add to the comments I’ve read about how this smells. Hairspray, lactones, patchouli, non-existent flowers, bubblegum, poppers. All true.

It’s the feeling, though. There’s not even an attempt to tether this thing to anything actually botanical. Natural and chemical are words I tend not to use, because what do they mean? Nature, as we use it discussing the environment, has no meaning whatsoever when you look at it. And what matter isn’t chemical? That said, Rush’s value is that it is unnatural and chemical. And altogether unapologetic. And all the better for it.

If this is a signature scent, I pity the people close to the wearer. This is definitively an occasional scent. It is loud, cruisy, intolerant and laughs incessantly. This is the Dionysus of perfume. It’s also monotonous, not in the sense of humdrum, but of hitting one note, and one note only, endlessly. There is very little evolution in time with this one, but why should it be otherwise? Who wants a party to end? All credit to Tania Sanchez for describing this as both large-scale outdoor art and intended for a night out. That’s the best characterization I can imagine for this baby. Ultimately, though, the night-on–the-town analogy gives with one hand and takes with the other. Yes, Rush is the life of the party. Absolutely. We’re all drawn to her when she arrives. But she’s also the sitter. The last one at the party, dancing drink-in-hand by herself while everyone else has left.

Wonderful.

First encounter: my nose was blown to pieces, not knowing what was up, down or day of the week. A screaming freesia and peach combo smashed into my face and for a few minutes I was unable to smell anything else. But the bulldozer patchouli made me smell again - only just patchouli. A very close friend had given me this as a gift, no specific occasion, and I sprayed it to show that I appreciated the thought. There was no way I could regret it. I had to wear it off. I smiled and said thanks.
For a long time it stood in the closet. Occasionally, I grabbed it to make sure that it was the same experience, and for a long time it was. But then something changed…
One summer day I sat next to a friend and noticed a lovely smell. I had to ask and she told me it was Gucci Rush. I was confused. What was happening? Later when I came back home I tried it again. And it was great. Still overwhelming and hefty but also nice and romantic (?)
I do not know what has happened but today I like Rush, even though I do not wear it often. I will describe the scent as ‘fun’. And it is great to have fun sometimes.
95/365

The first time I smelled this was at an Osmothèque conference on 100 years of chypre. Rush was chosen and presented by Christophe Laudamiel as one of the iconic chypres. At the time I hated it. What the hell is this weird plastic thing?
Now I understand it. If Mitsouko is Ingres’ Grande Odalisque, then Rush is Martial Raysse’s Made in Japan version of it. It's deliberately kitsch, blatantly synthetic, plasticky, shouty, industrial. Just as Martial Raysse said, beauty is bad taste, and bad taste is the dream of an over-desired beauty. Seen in this way, Gucci Rush fits perfectly into the pop art aesthetic. No need to be so serious all the time. Sometimes we just need a bit cheap trashy fun.

Certain perfumes bring a mental image to mind. The image Rush brings to my mind: a pale 20-ish woman with greasy dark hair curled away from her face (Farrah Fawcett-style), smelling of cigarette smoke and vomited fruity drinks, wearing jeans she has to lie down to zip, talking too loudly in the parking lot of a dance club because she's drunk and can't tell how loud she is. If I had to work next to someone who wore this, I'd consider paying them to wear something else. When I have a sample of a fragrance, I always try it at least twice on different days, but I couldn't bear a second try on this one. (050609)