From Chandler Burr's post about an almond-inspired perfume:

There are perfumes built in the classic French fashion, with shiny exteriors of gold and titanium. Wearing them is like wearing a brilliant Cartier ring inlaid with diamonds. You wear these fragrances to show them off. (The French value: the brilliance and ego of the artist.) There are American perfumes that smell like a handsome, showered baseball player, sporty, young and relaxed, and you wear these to assume that identity, as you might wear a polo shirt with a country club logo. (The American genius: self-invention.) Then there are perfumes in the Italian style — often lemon/bergamot citrus scents — that serve as luxury ID badges, and one wears these as one would a beautifully-made Italian dress shirt, to say, "Admire my level of comfort and elegance." (The Italian obsession: status and the identification of one’s social group.)

[Quoting not because I agree with this, but because generalizations about national style are a guilty pleasure. In spite of loving the Stratford Festival, the Toronto Harbourfront, the food at Le Canard Huppé, and a certain native of Ontario all to distraction, I've also long relished J. R. Colombo's claim that "Canada could have enjoyed English government, French culture, and American know-how. Instead, it would up with English know-how, French government, and American culture."]