Condolences this week to anyone who has squandered the housekeeping on Paris Hilton’s fragrance, Heiress. You thought you were buying a “lifestyle”, didn’t you? You were seduced by the promise of “top notes of champagne mimosa” with “base notes of blonde woods”. Oh, deary me. Here’s what two authorities on perfume have to say about it in a new book: “Hilariously vile. A 50/50 mix of cheap shampoo and canned peaches.”

Don’t feel so international jet set now? Never mind. You could have spent more on Carolina Herrera’s 212, which they describe as “like getting lemon juice in a paper cut”.

But thank God there’s something now to cut through the merde that surrounds the perfume industry and tell us what’s a stinker. Perfumes: The Guide by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez is out this month in the States (Viking, $27.95) and, hell, do we need it. Did you hear that Britney Spears’ perfume has outsold all other celebrity fragrances, beating even St Kylie’s into second place? Yes, that would be the same poor, damaged Britney who was recently tied by her ankles to a stretcher and carted off to a psychiatric unit. Call me square, but that’s not a lifestyle one tends to covet. So why do so many people wish to smell of her?

Some things defy understanding and, to me, the rampant success of celebrity perfume is one of them. Elizabeth Taylor, who could have D.I.V.O.R.C.E as her signature tune, flogs a perfume called Forever and it sells in its millions. I’d satirise that but, really, the job’s already done. At the other end of the scale we have that Big Brother bird, Chanelle Hayes (don’t ask me), releasing a fragrance called Mwah!. Given that Chanelle comes from Wakefield, where you’d get a fat lip for mwah-ing anyone, this is the most unexpected decision since Kerry Katona won Mum of the Year. (Kerry has a perfume out soon. Can I suggest Air d’OK! Mag?)

We badly need guidance with perfumes. There are so many of them now that people, dizzy with choice, plump for a celeb bottle because at least it’s something they know, like a Brit abroad plumps for prawn cocktail. And, for £30, it bestows some of the celeb's glamour on the wearer, so I can’t wait for them to launch a Pete Doherty aftershave with top notes of crack pipe and a lingering whiff of desperation.

A preview of Turin and Sanchez’s book in The New Yorker (it lavishly praises Lancôme’s Trésor for managing to be at once trashy and sophisticated, appealing to “both the reptilian brain and the neocortex of menfolk”) shows why this book is essential reading. Apparently, women buying perfume most often ask, “What scent drives men wild?” “After years of research, we know the definitive answer,” says Sanchez. “It’s bacon.” Sadly, we just know it’s true.

bargainhunter@thetimes.co.uk

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