100,000 Years of Warnings
Nuclear waste, IFRA, and the scents we leave behind.
I've long been fascinated (read: obsessed) with nuclear waste storage.
Once a nuclear power station or research facility has used up the useful energy within its radioactive fuel, it needs to store the fuel somewhere safe to prevent it from accidentally getting into the environment or the wrong hands.
The storage part is easy enough as long as you use appropriate shielding and put the spent fuel somewhere safe, but making sure no one comes to harm because of it means that you have to decide how to either a) prevent anyone from ever finding it, or b) ensure that no one ever wants to dig it up.
On a scale of decades or centuries, a) and b) are both very manageable. But when you're dealing with substances that have to remain hidden for 100,000 years and you can't even guarantee that your warning signs will be understandable that far in the future, it's a challenge to say the least.
It's not just nuclear waste that needs to be stored carefully.
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IFRA, the International Fragrance Association, is widely bemoaned in the fragrance world because of their limitations and bans on ingredients, the lists of which are updated frequently. These regulations force reformulations and slowly shrink perfumers' palettes.
Some years they'll note something is carcinogenic. Other times it's reproductive toxicity. Sometimes it's sensitisation, which usually refers to ingredients that are safe at low levels but irritating at higher concentrations. The list goes on.
As frustrating as IFRA regulations can seem at first glance (oh no, my favourite Chanel got reformulated!), complaining about toxic ingredient bans is a bizarre hill to die on. To me, it sounds a lot like complaining that your tap water used to taste better back when it was polluted with industrial waste.
Vintage perfumes may look wonderful in their often-iconic bottles, but some of the ingredients lurking within can harm you in ways you aren't even aware of.
Like a future civilisation discovering hidden tombs of nuclear waste, unable to read the warnings left millennia ago, spraying and smelling a vintage perfume can come with secret (though significantly less harmful) risks.
Does it stop me from spraying them on paper, or even skin, occasionally? No.
Like hiking to a remote location to admire its beauty, some pursuits of aesthetic wonder come with risks, and as long as you're aware of what they might be, I think it's fine to dabble a little.
But don't take this as medical advice, and definitely don't go digging up things that are meant to be forgotten.
I think the question at the bottom of this radioactive rabbit hole is, Should beauty ever come with a warning label?