The Sweet Smell of Success?

By Nancy R. Gibbs

There used to be nothing treacherous about reading a magazine. There was nothing to come off on your clothes (except maybe too much ink), nothing to make your eyes water or take away your taste for dinner. But now, as perfume makers seek greater access to their customers, the magazine has become something of a minefield -- and a smelly minefield at that. More and more perfume manufacturers are relying on not just provocative texts and evocative images but a sample of the real thing. Turn the page, break open the "scent strip" and get a full blast of Giorgio of Beverly Hills; or Calvin Klein's Obsession; Fendi, the passion of Rome; or Faberge's McGregor. "The fragrance business is so highly competitive," says Melisande Congdon-Doyle, director of cosmetic and fragrance marketing at Harper's Bazaar, "that the only way to get the scent before the noses of people is to go to them directly." For a person who receives several such magazines in the home or office simultaneously, the effect can be overpowering. "What is that smell, Janet?"

The strips are usually postcard size and placed in such tony magazines as Vogue, Town & Country and Vanity Fair. The ad is coated with millions of tiny drops of fragrant oils, sealed inside specially designed capsules. The capsules are mixed with a binding agent and affixed to the paper to prevent the scents from bursting during rough handling in the mail. Once the ad is ripped open, the scent behaves just as if it were wafting in the air above the perfume counter.

Giorgio was the pioneer of scent strips, but more than a dozen other manufacturers have followed suit, since the tactic seems to work wonders. Fragrance sales, which fell in the early 1980s, have steadily risen for the past five years, according to the Fragrance Foundation. Scent strips have become so effective that they are challenging department stores as the primary means for introducing and sampling new fragrances. For readers who cannot make it to the nearest posh department store, the ads provide a toll-free 800 number to call to buy the product from the privacy of their living room.

Perfume is just the beginning. Rolls-Royce has run an ad in Architectural Digest that lets readers smell the leathery Rolls interiors. Calls to the company increased fourfold the month after the ad appeared. Readers could also breathe deeply of DeKuyper's Original Peachtree Schnapps or scratch and catch a whiff of Ralston Purina's dog food Butcher's Blend. McCormick & Co. Inc. of Hunt Valley, Md., has put out its annual report on sales of its spices. The financial statements smelled of buttered cinnamon.

There are a few deterrents to further proliferation. The ads cost a lot, as much as $35,000 more than a regular one-page color ad in a magazine like Mademoiselle. Some readers still complain about the most aggressive inserts, and other, unscented advertisers may be afraid that readers will discard the magazine to escape from a smelly page. Gripes Nancy Conarroe, a Manhattan food consultant: "I am allergic to perfume, and I get angry when magazines invade my space with aromas that are offensive and unwanted."

But if the ploy continues to sell perfume, the smells may branch out even further. Imagine if advertisers, in their search for more vivid copy, began running scent strips, say, for Aqueduct Race Track. Or Magic Johnson's Converse ERX 400 high-tops, or Macanudo, the ultimate cigar. It would be enough to make some readers wish they had a cold.

With reporting by Wayne Svoboda/New York