Chanel 5 Perfume Quotes

Towles burn. Bathroom inferno! Chanel No. 5, it burns. Oil paintings of racehorses and dead pheasants burn. The reproduction Oriental carpets burn. Evie's bad dried flower arrangements, they're these little tabletop infernos. Too cute! Evie's Katty Kathy doll, it melts, then it burns. Evie's collection of big carnival stuffed animals - Cootie, Poochie, Pam-Pam, Mr. Bunnits, Choochie, Poo Poo and Ringer - it's fun-fur holocaust. Too sweet. Too precious. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

Which would you rather have––an unlimited supply of Chanel No. 5, or freedom? ~ Elizabeth Wein

But to a dog, the stench of a decaying rat probably smells like Chanel No. 5. ~ Stephen King

She had no time for anything humdrum, banal, or mundane - to the extent that the task of cleaning her desk at every night had to be done with a bottle of Perrier water and Chanel No. 5. ~ Anna Wintour

The Buried Bishop's a gridlocked scrum, an all-you-can-eat of youth: 'Stephen Hawking and the Dalai Lama, right; they posit a unified truth'; short denim skirts, Gap and Next shirts, Kurt Cobain cardigans, black Levi's; 'Did you see that oversexed pig by the loos, undressing me with his eyes?'; that song by the Pogues and Kirsty MacColl booms in my diaphragm and knees; 'Like, my only charity shop bargains were headlice, scabies, and fleas'; a fug of hairspray, sweat and Lynx, Chanel No. 5, and smoke; well-tended teeth with zero fillings, revealed by the so-so joke - 'Have you heard the news about Schrodinger's Cat? It died today; wait - it didn't, did, didn't, did…'; high-volume discourse on who's the best Bond … Sartre, Bart Simpson, Barthes's myths; 'Make mine a double'; George Michael's stubble; 'Like, music expired with the Smiths'; and futures all starry; fetal think-tankers, judges, and bankers…power and money, like Pooh Bear and honey, stick fast - I don't knock it, it's me; and speaking of loins, 'Has anyone told you you look like Demi Moore from Ghost?'; roses are red and violets are blue, I've a surplus of butter and Ness is warm toast. ~ David Mitchell

The indigestible parts of giant squid, in particular their beaks, accumulate in sperm whales' stomachs into the substance known as ambergris, which is used as a fixative in perfumes. The next time you spray on Chanel Number 5 (assuming you do), you may wish to reflect that you are dousing yourself in distillate of unseen sea monster. ~ Bill Bryson

Now I had babies confuse before. John Green Dudley, first word out a that boy's mouth was Mama and he was looking straight at me. But then pretty soon he calling everybody including hisself Mama and calling his daddy Mama too ... Nobody worry bout it. Course when he start playing dress-up in his sister's Jewel Taylor twirl skirts and wearing Chanel No. 5, we all get a little concern. ~ Kathryn Stockett

What name shall we give it which hath no name, the common eternal matter of the mind? If we were to call it essence, some might think it meant perfume, or gold, or honey. It is not even mind. It is not even discussible, groupable into words; it is not even endless, in fact it is not even mysterious or inscrutably inexplicable; it is what is; it is that; it is this. We could easily call the golden eternity "This." But "what's in a name?" asked Shakespeare. The golden eternity by another name would be as sweet. A Tathagata, a God, a Buddha by
another name, an Allah, a Sri Krishna, a Coyote, a Brahma, a Mazda, a Messiah, an Amida, an Aremedeia, a Maitreya, a Palalakonuh, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 would be as sweet. The golden eternity is X, the golden eternity is A, the golden eternity is /, the golden eternity is O, the golden eternity is [ ], the golden eternity is t-h-e-g-o-l-d-e-n-e-t-e-r-n-i-t-y. In the beginning was the word; before the beginning, in the beginningless infinite neverendingness, was the essence. Both the word "god" and the essence of the word, are emptiness. The form of emptiness which is emptiness having taken the form of form, is what you see and hear and feel right now, and what you taste and smell and think as you read this. Wait awhile, close your eyes, let your breathing stop three seconds or so, listen to the inside silence in the womb of the world, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, re-recognize the bliss you forgot, the emptiness and essence and ecstas ~ Jack Kerouac

People think that the word "class" involves the color black, wearing Chanel No. 5 and carrying a Louis Vuitton. The word "class" and "classy", to me, mean what happens when you are able to be thankful, able to give and be a true friend to anybody regardless of their background and where they come from. That's class. It's a beautiful wave that washes away faults and paints things in a graceful light. You can't always do this, though. Sometimes you just need to slap someone. Still, you can slap someone with a lot of poise and that makes all the difference. ~ C. JoyBell C.

...her melancholy mood had followed her home. It clung to her like perfume, filling the rooms she visited with the scent of loss. Surely it would try to choke her in her sleep, or trip her in the dark when night fell. ~ Elise K. Ackers

A mask tempts the wearer to play out carnal fantasies and, come daylight, the perfume of a stranger's sex on your flesh and clothes can be blamed or thanked on the metamorphosis stirred by the mystery of the mask. ~ Chloe Thurlow

Adornment, what a science! Beauty, what a weapon! Modesty, what elegance! ~ Coco Chanel

I'm a Christian girl. I pray every night and before meals and before I go on stage not to fall. ~ Chanel Iman

He stopped at the door and turned to me. "I'll be right back." I nodded, and he disappeared out the door. I stood in my living area in my heels, skirt and blouse from work. Then I wondered if I had time to change before he got back. Then I wondered if he'd notice it if I'd spritzed on perfume when he got back. Then I wondered if I should do a shot or two of vodka before he got back. Then he knocked on my door, which meant he was back. ~ Kristen Ashley

It had been a long time since I felt the fragrance of summer: the scent of the ocean, a distant train whistle, the touch of a girl's skin, the lemony perfume of her hair, the evening wind, faint glimmers of hope, summer dreams.
But none of these were the way they once had been; they were all somehow off, as if copied with tracing paper that kept slipping out of place."
-from "Hear the Wind Sing ~ Haruki Murakami

I'm grateful to look the way I do. However, if I could change anything, I would like to be a bit bigger all over. Not much - just a bit. ~ Chanel Iman

Love is sacred. Beauty is sacred. Flowers are sacred. Birds are sacred. And sacredness brings the perfume of love and compassion. Therefore love and compassion is the perfume of sacredness. It sounds rather poetic, but ... God IS poetry. ~ Vasant Lad

Fashion becomes unfashionable. Style never. ~ Coco Chanel

Caring about beauty, it is necessary to start with the heart and soul, otherwise no makeup will not help. ~ Coco Chanel

Women have always been the strong ones of the world. ~ Coco Chanel

One has met and indeed entertained many visiting heads of state, some of them unspeakable crooks and blackguards ... One has given one's white-gloved hand to hands that were steeped in blood and conversed politely with men who have personally slaughtered children. One has waded through excrement and gore ... Sometimes one has felt like a scented candle, sent in to perfume a regime, or aerate a policy, monarchy these days just a government-issue deoderant. ~ Alan Bennett

One should refrain from contempt for the baser specimens of humanity, for whom liberation amounts to shaving the heads of women who have slept with Germans. ~ Coco Chanel

She was like a dream I'd given up long ago. A different life, a better me. A chance to wash the filth away. ~ Chanel Cleeton

She comes to me in snatches - I remember pieces of her laugh, the look she gave when she was upset. Sometimes I sniff the bottle of perfume of hers that I saved, but it doesn't come close to the robustness of her smell. It is her, flattened.


This is what it's really like to lose. It is complete and irreversible.

How pernicious these little things called memories are. They barbed me once, but now that I no longer have many of them, I am devastated. ~ Zinzi Clemmons

Tell me what you want," she said, "and I will make it happen."
I want my liar, I thought.
I want her mouth.
I want her perfume to rub off on my skin like bruised grass. ~ Marie Rutkoski

I live in the Dark Ages, the 17th century. Actually, I would have loved to be in Paris in the early 20th century when the Ballets Russes were there and Chanel was designing. ~ Iris Apfel

I was the one who changed, it wasn't fashion. I was the one who was in fashion. ~ Coco Chanel

I don't care what you think about me. I don't think about you at all. ~ Coco Chanel

I believe in love. And beauty. I believe that every single person has something they find beautiful and that they truly love. The smell of their child's hair, the silence of a forest, their lover's crooked grin. Their country, their religion, their family. And I believe that if you follow this love all the way to its end, if you start with the thing you find most beautiful and trace it's perfume back to its essence, you will perceive an intangible presence, a swath of stillness that allows the thing you love to be visible like the openness of the sky reveals the presence of the moon. ~ Geneen Roth

Her mother had smelled of cold and scales, her father of stone dust and dog. She imagined her husband's mother, whom she had never met, had a whiff of rotting apples, though her stationary had stunk of baby powder and rose perfume. Sally was starch, cedar, her dead grandmother sandalwood, her uncle, swiss cheese. People told her she smelled like garlic, like chalk, like nothing at all. Lotto, clean as camphor at his neck and belly, like electrified pennies at the armpit, like chlorine at the groin. She swallowed. Such things, details noticed only on the edges of thought would not return.
'Land,' Mathilde said, 'odd name for a guy like you.'
'Short for Roland,' the boy said.
Where the August sun had been steaming over the river, a green cloud was forming. It was still terrifically hot, but the birds had stopped singing. A feral cat scooted up the road on swift paws. It would rain soon.
'Alright Roland,' Mathilde said, suppressing as sigh, 'sing your song. ~ Lauren Groff