Throwback Tuesday — Kate Spade original

Kate Spade handbags were everywhere in our East Coast city in the early 2000s. I loved the balance of sharpness and whimsy in them, those cheery patterns and colors. They (and she) seemed like a lot of fun, although sadly her death in 2018 shows you never really know what someone else’s life is like, no matter how posh and successful it looks from the outside.

Anyway, there was a period of a few years when, whenever I walked through Macy’s, I spritzed myself with her perfume, the only one at that time. It was simply called “Kate Spade,” and it was the fragrance equivalent of a smart, interesting, lively woman –perhaps Kate herself, with her charming, retro hair in a polka dot scarf, bright red or pink lips, and a throaty laugh, full of gusto.

Notes on Fragrantica are honeysuckle, gardenia, lily of the valley, tuberose and jasmine.  Unsurprisingly (and hilariously) the community votes pin it as having very strong sillage, and lasting power between “long” and “eternal.” It stood out from the crowd of beige 90s fragrances in a way I didn’t appreciate at the time. I just knew I loved it.

It was launched in 2003, and by the time I wanted to buy my own bottle, it was discontinued – replaced by Twirl and then a bunch of other, more modern and user-friendly fruit-floral-musk fragrances from the line. Bottles of Kate Spade on eBay now go for several hundred dollars depending on how full they are; it clearly has its die-hard fans.

I popped on there recently on a whim and lo and behold, there was a partial bottle for less than $100; using perfume math, that’s basically free. So, I bought it, hoping it was as great as I remembered.

And it is. It is a big, big fragrance – lots of sillage and longevity. It’s sometimes described as “the perfect wedding fragrance” by fans online (a bouquet of white florals!) but I dunno about that, it’s so huge it might be “memorable” to some of your guests in the way that, say, Fracas is. They might remember thinking you must have spilled the entire bottle on your gown and it was too late to repair the damage.

I wouldn’t say it has “development” as a scent so much as emerging like Godzilla from behind the Empire State Building, fully formed and demanding your attention. It’s greener up top, the way that white florals can be, and over time that fades and it’s more of the indolic notes you might also expect. But mostly it’s a ginormous bouquet of the actual flowers, which is when I realized why I love it so – it smells like the flowers themselves, not wrapped in a bunch of fruity or musky perfumer’s notes trying to fill it out or ground it.

I think it’s a delight, and I can’t think of a single fragrance that smells like it, although (again) its longtime fans are always suggesting alternatives. For me, I’m happy to have it, although I’ve been very careful about when I put it on and where I’m going, given its sillage and lasting power.

Do you remember this one? Have you gone back and found a fragrance from your past?

cover image: Vanity Fair