I've got a story, but it's a bit of a reach. I still think of it as an urban legend lost scent though.
An old girlfriend took me to a hole in the wall vegan hippy breakfast place out in the formerly rural suburbs once. I love getting eats at places like this, so don't think I knock it on principle, but it was a caricature of itself--all the things you hate in what should be a good weekend morning breakfast joint with tofu scramble. The indoor tables were folding card tables or picnic benches, you go get your own water, the food arrives after ages of a wait, and your dining partner's food gets there later still. There's deserters in the kitchen jungle don't know the Vietnam War is over. All that great stuff.
Anyway, we ate there and the food was great even if they forgot a topping or two we ordered. Next door and attached through a large pass-through was a pagan/new age crystals, god's eyes, and other weird craft gift shop. Again, I rely on a dreadful and mocking stereotype, but I can't help it. This store was the kind of place that thought witches had the truest religion, and had lots of apparent wiccan practice gear. The sales people there were very kind and friendly. They had a case of jewelry. In that case were a few bottles of apparently locally made perfumes.
I can't remember what mythic logo images were on the atomizer labels, but kinghts and maidens and Pegasus would probably be a fair guess. I smelled one of ones with a knight, some guy with a codpiece, or a troll on it, or a dragon, I can't remember. Rose, cucumber maybe, sandalwood, maybe a hint of geranium, a light metallic base of something. I couldn't place the scent but I knew it reminded me strongly of something, and I knew I liked it, but had still not wanted to pay as much as US$40 for what must have been about 3 liquid ounces.
Twenty five or thirty miles back toward the city on the highway it hit me--that was a dead ringer for Patou Pour Homme! What a fool I had been not to peg it there in the store and drop the cash to be able to get a version of the scent that was cheap enough to wear casually even! It wasn't a perfect duplicate, but it had the elements of wonder just right, and getting it would have been as fun as finding a bottle of the real thing. Even more fun, really, since it would be wearable instead of "sacred" like the diminishing supply of the real stuff.
Damn, lost. So now there's an urban legend of a Patou Pour Homme duplicate cheaply available at some hippie cafe/wiccan supply stores out there. Probably has Pegasus or a unicorn on its label too.