March and I are going to do a dual post on our Best Things of 2006, along with many other bloggers (listed at the bottom of the post). Please make sure to visit all of them, many of whom have been the primary source for lemmings! These aren’t necessarily new things for 2006, but they may be new to us.

Patty’s List, with musical accompaniment:

1. You’re the First, the Last, the Everything (love ya, Barry)… The very top of my list has to start with Parfumerie Generale. This whole line has blown me away. From the Buttcrack Accord on the open of Aomassai drying down to one of the most beautiful, soft scents imaginable to Harmatan Noir, which is rich smoky tea and wood that just haunts me every day that I don’t wear it, there is something for everyone at this Perfume House. It will truly go down with Serge Lutens and Frederic Malle scents in what are now modern day classics. So what in the heck are you waiting for, go find one that you like! Best Perfume Line 2006.
2. Once I was afraid, I was petrified… (Gloria Gaynor) that Armani would stop making the Luminous Silk Foundation. Now I get night sweats thinking they could discontinue their new Shaping Foundation, which is the most ground-breaking foundation I can recall in a very long time. You get less with more, which is to say, it has better coverage that makes you look like you have nothing on at all. How? Who knows…Italian fairies is my best guess. Best Cosmetic 2006.
3. I wanna fly like an Eagle to the Sea, fly like an Eagle, let my Spirit Carry me…(Steve Miller, yes!) How could I have missed Guerlain’s Vol de Nuit parfum? I sniffed it briefly before and liked it, but I didn’t have enough to truly luxuriate in this classic beautiful scent. This is like the best of Sous le Vent and one of the sweeter Guerlains all wrapped up together. Stunning. Best Oldie but Goodie 2006.
4. In my dream, I was drowning in sorrow, but my sorrows, they learned to swim. Surrounding me, going down on me, spinning over the brim. Waves of regret and waves of joy, I reached out for the one I tried to destroy… (U2, Actung Baby, only the best album ever made) Chocolate Martinis. the end. Drink enough of them, and you will feel beautiful and fragrant. Best Vacation 2006.
5. Imagine me and you, I do, I think about you day and night, it’s only right to think about the girl you love and hold her tight, so happy together…(some band in the ’60s, Turtles?) Caron Poivre fills the slot of magnificent obsession for me quite well. There is nothing else quite like it, nor should there be. Best Obsession 2006.
6. When I was a young boy
   I was honest and I had more self-control
   If I was tempted I would run
   Then, when I got older
   I began to lie to get exactly what I wanted
   When I wanted it
   - And I wanted it
   Now, I’m having trouble differentiating
   Between what I want
   And what I need
   To make me happy
   So instead of thinking I just act
   Before I have the chance to contemplate the
   Consequence of action … (Stabilo, Flawed Design) Best Perfumista’s Siren Song of Obsession 2006
7. Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again today. And the worst part is there’s no one else to blame…(Sia, Breathe Me) in a land full of candles, there can be only one Leather candle, and that is Assouline’s leather candle. At $45 apiece, there is pain involved. Best Sniffy that’s Not Perfume 2006.
8. I feel the cold, loneliness unfold like from another world. Come what may, I won’t fade away, but I know I might change. Nothing comes easily, fill this empty space. Nothing is like it was. Turn my grief to grace…(Kate Havnevik, Grace) Serge Lutens Encens et Lavande and Iris Silver Mist. Encens is the grief, and Iris Silver Mist is the grace. Best Mood Scent Discoveries 2006.
9. I feel like letting you know how much i love you today. I feel like letting it show, showing you rightly now, they’re never going away…(Open Heart Surgery, The Brian Jonestown Massacre) Frederic Malle Beurre Exquise (in any flavor). Nothing should feel this great or cost this much, but loving this exquisite butter that glides on like silk is easy…and insane. Best Ridiculously Priced Luxury of 2006
10. Oh, the deeper I spin, Oh, the hunter will sin for your ivory skin. Took a drive in the dirty rain To a place where the wind calls your name. Under the trees the river laughing at you and me. Hallelujah, heaven’s white rose. The doors you open, I just can’t close…(Who’s Gonna Ride your Wild Horses from U2’s Achtung Baby, may I repeat, one of the best albums ever) Narcisse, as in Caron Narcisse Noir and L’Artisan Fleur de Narcisse. When you feel beautiful and free and strong and way wild. Best Scents to Make a Statement for 2006

March’s List, Without Musical Accompaniment:

Here’s my list of my Top 10 for 2006, in random order. Some of these weren’t released in 2006 but I’m including them because they were new to me.

1. Donna Karan Chaos – I promise, this is the last time I mention Chaos on the blog (in 2006, anyway.) So I’m maybe four (?) years too late to buy it retail, but in this case – better late than never.
2. Armani Prive Cuir Amethyst – an unconventional blend of leather and violet. I get compliments on this every time I wear it.
3. Less is More – at the beginning of 2006 I didn’t want scent to comfort me – I wanted it to enthrall me, enchant me, disgust me … I get the idea of a low-key scent now. Random scents that comfort me by staying in the background when necessary: Jil Sander Sensations, KenzoAmour, Clinique Simply, Hermes Eau de Merveilles, Matthew Williamson Incense, Bvlgari The Blanc (or green, or red), Annayake Miyako… I’m sure I’ve forgotten five things I’ll feel guilty about later.
4. Virtual Reality – another category I enjoyed playing around in. Perfumes that take you somewhere. My favorite virtual reality line: CB I Hate Perfume (Black March, Burning Leaves, Gathering Apples, Winter 1972, etc.). I’m also going to stick CB Musk on here in honor of my fellow fans of hardcore skank, although I’m still going to argue that it’s both sensual and beautiful.
5. Andy Tauer Perfumes – both Lonestar Memories (virtual reality leather) and Orris (woody, incense, iris) are well worth smelling. The new lavender mod is shaping up to be another winner.
6. Malle Carnal Flower – tuberose with just a bit of a chill. Stunning, and remember, I’m not the Queen of Big White Florals, either. My other favorite Malle is En Passant, which I’m sliding in here because, frankly, what list is complete without En Passant? The only one of my fragrances my daughter has ever asked for. She calls it “the sad lilac rain one,” which just about covers it.
7. Parfumerie Generale — some of them (Iris Taizo, Hyperessence Matale, Ilang Ivohibe) I loved. Even the ones I hated (Aomassai) were interesting. I believe there’s now a coffret with samples of all 15 scents, which sounds perfect.
8. Houbigant Apercu – if I wanted to be a pill I’d stick Mitsouko on here (have you noticed there’s no Guerlain on my list? And I’m not adding any from 2006, either.) Instead I’ll be a pill and stick in Apercu, which must be 80 years old at this point. If you’re looking for a classic woody chypre that doesn’t smell dated; if you can’t quite “get there” with Mitsouko; if you’d like to smell something that makes 98% of the perfume at Sephora look like crap – get some Apercu, which they still make, unlike a lot of other great vintage scents, so you don’t have to pay a fortune on eBay and then discover the bottle’s gone off. Although poking around online I’m nervous it’s now been d/c’d, because it’s getting harder to find…
9. The men’s department — it took me forever to cross the aisle – I have an irrational fear of vetiver-heavy, cedar-forest, citrus-scarifying generic guy-cologne smells that all boil down in my mind to being drowned in a vat of Mennen Skin Bracer. What a dumbass. Considering how much I love a little dark and dirty, the men’s department is loaded with winners. A partial list of the men’s fragrances I discovered and fell in love with this year: the Carons, especially Yatagan (wave your big dagger at me, baby!); Hermes Rocabar and Equipage; Ralph Lauren Double Black (no, seriously); Guerlain Derby and L’Instant; Dior Eau Noire; Lanvin Arpege Pour Homme, and Prada Amber Pour Homme (which, let’s face it, is more femme than the woman’s by a mile).
10. Smaller bottles — for about five weeks there, right before the holidays, a number of mainstream fragrance houses came out with miniaturized, usually roll-on versions of their scents. I’d prefer a small bottle instead of a rollerball — like the purse sprays of yore (did anyone else see those adorable teeny-weeny three-pack bottle sets of Kenzo Flower?!) but it’s a start. Sing along with me: Wouldn’t It Be Wonderful …. If we didn’t have to buy 100ml of something? Frankly, I don’t even want 50ml – 20 to 30ml would be plenty. No, I’m not holding my breath, given the opposite gigantism trend (exemplified, for instance, by the new Chanel Exclusifs coming out in February in 200ml bottles). That’s just … silly. How’m I gonna pick that thing up and spray – with my third hand? My super powers? The Cheese keeps complaining what we need around here is a wife. Hey, maybe we’ll get one! And then she can spray me with perfume…

Please Visit the other wonderful Bloggers participating in Favorite Things 2006:

First up, the winners of the two Christmas sample packs are: Anna and Karen (of the combat boots and war games in Germany variety). Just click on the contact Us button over on the left and send me a shipping address, and I’ll get your little gifts out to you!

There are a mess of new things sitting on my desk that I had been putting off while thumbing my way through Carons and old Guerlains this month. Distraction in the aged is not a pretty picture.

Indult Tihota — Vanilla on steroids, and I mean that in a good way. If you are a vanilla lover, this is The Vanilla Killah. Not overly sweet, it has the best of vanilla in it without all the cavities, which is a welcome change, with a slightly earthy bent to it. I’m not a vanilla fan for the most part, but I quite like Tihota. It has great lasting power — all of these do. I can still smell this the next day, though fainter. Is it FBW at EUR160 for 50 ml? Well, not for me, a nonvanilla fan, but for fans, i think this would be the one to have.

Indult Manakara — This one is fairly sweet, but just about the time you think it is going to be an over the top fruity floral, it reigns back in and stays just at about the right place on the sweet level for a fruity floral. I wasn’t sure how much I liked this one at first, but as it dried down and the sweet faded a bit, it’s a very lovely blend. Enough to buy? If it wasn’t quite so much, I’d say yes… though there’s something that is a little mesmerizing about it that I like and keep sniffing. I still may change my mind on the bottle.

Indult Isvaraya — Okay, this is the one I truly have to have, if I get any of them. Marina lists notes of patchouli, Indian plum tree and jasmine sambac. A gorgeous blending of jasmine and patchouli, a little fruity note, and this makes a very earthy jasmine, like you picked up the earth and the jasmine all together and rubbed your nose in it. I really didn’t think these notes could be done well, but it seriously is a great creation.

The price point on the Indults still bothers me, though it’s about the same as the Armani Prive scents. There is a smoothness to all three of them, and they are done very well. Dare I hope that at some point they would sell these three in a coffret? They all seem well suited to layering with each other. All of them will be available Jan 8 at Sephora in Paris with a limited run of bottles for EUR160 for 50 ml.

Recently some very odd magazines started showing up in the mail, like Inc. and Entrepeneur and Money. Even though those are the sorts of magazines I should read for my real work, I just don’t — I much prefer the fluffier magazine-reading side of my job, like “Entertainment Weekly” and “Us.” Yes, that is TOO part of my job! (stamps foot in emphasis) Of course, like with all magazines that enter our house, they got snagged up for a read and left wherever. When my youngest son came back from his dad’s, he was all huffy and demanding why we had stolen his magazines and not even told him they started to arrive. Completely baffled about what magazines he was talking about, he informed me that was HIS Money magazine and Entrpreneur. Huh. After my WTF moment, which was the unexpected thwapping the known up the side of the head, I about peed myself laughing as he explained how he came by those magazines. Apparently ThinkGeek gives him Geek points every time he orders something, and he got an offer from them to pick three magazines, and he said those sounded like the most interesting of the three. ThinkGeek, 16-year-old boys, financial magazines…what on earth do these three have in common? In Harry’s case, just throw a kickass guitar, a ginormous amp, a love of physics, chemistry, writing poetry and puzzles in there, and it all starts to clear up, or as well as he ever will come into focus.

There is a dissonance when what you thought you knew gets splattered with Some New Thing. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, it is just jarring, like silk on gravel — two things that you didn’t think went together are now inhabiting the same space in a brain cell. My children have always remained a mystery to me in many ways — they both have a deep interior life that leaks through every now and then, and it is puzzling and usually comical. How in the world do they keep so many fragments of who they are concealed?

This is also how I feel about all of the Parfumerie Generale scents — well, not quite as strongly as if they were my sons. Most of you know I’m a Parfumerie Generale slutty cheerleader and will pimp this line every chance I get. There is truly at least one scent in this line for everyone, but not in that plain vanilla way that works because they won’t offend you, but you’ll find one that speaks to you and is pleasantly discordant and mesmerizing.

Parfumerie Generale Bois de Copaiba — Ho-ly Mo-ther of God. When this sample hit my skin, I was in deep, deep love, but, alas, that love faded, to be replaced with respect and very deep likey lust. Notes of crystallized orange pulp, red ginger, Amaretto, Copahu balm, mahogany wood, myrrh and sandalwood. Bois de Copaiba is just extraordinary. Normally I’m not happy with the “boozy” scents, but this one doesn’t turn too winey or grapey, which is the tipping point for me, but stays so rich and warm and spicy and in the drydown almost silky, and it just makes me feel, well, hot! There is something in the drydown that reminds me of Armani Prive Pierre de Lune (which has slowly turned into one of my favorite perfumes… ever), though I don’t think any of the notes are the same, but there’s a similar feel to them both. It’s like a polished rock sliding over your skin, just has that smooth, luxurious feel to it. I loved the open better than the drydown, but that shouldn’t take away from the incredible scent this is. I guess I just wish it had stayed more spicy raw as at the beginning — if it had… oh, dear, there would be no limits to my love. But I’ll just keep applying it every 7 minues to get that open.

Parfumerie Generale Cedar Sandaraque — Notes of vetiver, African cedar, Sandaraque resin, cereals and praline amber. Cereals? If I’d known cereal could smell so good in a perfume, I would have started chucking special K in all of my perfumes. This one joins my absolute favorites in the line, Harmatan Noir and Hyperessence Matale, with my favorite woody tea scents (this category doesn’t necessarily have both notes in there, but I always lump wood and tea together, don’t ask why). There is a crisp earthiness about this wood scent that is just invigorating, though the resin and cereal adds a little bit of sweetness to it.

Parfumerie Generale Corps & Ames — Notes of geranium bourbon, spices, everlasting flowers, Melati wood, leather and sandalwood. It took me a little longer to love this one, but slowly its beauty emerged for me. A very unique blend, it’s the one that keeps me sniffing because it is deeply interesting, even though I don’t love it the most. I’m not sure what that means… maybe I do love it the most. Nope, nope, I’m going to spritz on some Harmatan Noir, which is truly magnificent.

All of the Parfumerie Generale scents can be bought from their website or at The Perfume Shoppe.

BTW, guess who scored a teensy bottle of Parfum Sacre Extrait on The Bay this week? That’s right. I’m having a parfum month, which will get all wrapped up in a post or two in January.

Painting from Marie Shell. Photo of fountain from Jamb.

This is from Patty — As you can tell, we are still bothering our guy friends to write for us, and Lee (Leopoldo) has been so kind as to give in to my pestering. If this keeps up, we’re gonna put a cowboy up there with the sluts girls.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Patty said a while back that that she’d be prepared for me, nay be pleased for me, to write some blather for Perfume Posse. It’s very generous of her, seeing as I look nothing like either of the ladies at the top of the blog, although I am rather fetching in a diaphanous negligee. So here I am. It’s been said before, and I don’t mind repeating it – Leopoldo takes what he can get. A truth universally acknowledged, I reckon.

Now, I know my writing exercise is really a cover story hatched by both PP ladies so they can get on with their ‘other’ projects: Patty needs some time clearing snow from her back yard so that she can continue with her cool room extension, set to rival the Osmotheque according to undisclosed sources (there’s even gonna be a special shrine where visitors can pay homage to Jean Claude – NO TOUCHING ALLOWED!); March is busy building a supercomputer large enough to hold all the data on her gazillions of decants. Apparently she’s cross-referencing them to track down every trace of cedar known to woman. I admire their work, and am happy to fill a hole if this allows them completion, and eventual world domination, I do not doubt. Thanks for this chance, my ladies. Now, get on with your work…

However, I have to be clear and admit that my talent doesn’t especially lie in capturing the essence of a scent in words. Indeed, I’ve yet to find where it does lie, but I know it’s not transposing the ineffable transience of smell into the more permanent fabric of language. So, can I take you off on a tangent instead, and hopefully return to the fragrant world by the end?

I finally got round to watching the Andy Kaufman bio, ‘Man on the Moon’ the other day. Initially, I was more interested in gasping at Michael Stipe’s beauty in the eponymous music video accompanying the film (do check him out and remind yourselves – it’s absolutely worth it). I think this was partly because, being a Brit, I’m not sure Kaufman has the significance for me he might have Stateside – I remember watching him in ‘Taxi’ as a kid and laughing, though I always found him a little too odd, too outré and therefore scary, and felt that I was happier with the more amenable and more directly sympathetic Christopher Lloyd character. However, the film was something of a revelation.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t enjoy it all – it seemed patchy, episodic and irritatingly quirky at times, much like the man himself I suppose. But the final third of the movie moved me profoundly. Andy knows he’s dying, and aside from a last desperate dash to the Philippines for a cure (which he witnesses to be a trick, like so much of his own career), he seems to accept his fate with dignity. This is encapsulated for me in two episodes from his Carnegie Hall performance. In the first, he makes a very old woman ride around the stage on a hobbyhorse and his orchestral directing at lightning speed forces the inevitable – the poor old girl clutches her chest, collapses and dies. A doctor comes to check – no heartbeat. Andy has walked off stage and now returns to perform a levitation act – the woman (no! gasp! laughter and tears!) recovers. We, the film audience, pretty much know all along this is going to happen, especially when we see it’s Andy’s brother performing the role of doctor. What’s significant about this to me is its tragicomic nature – as though death, the inevitable, can be laughed off and kept at bay, even though both Andy and the hobbyhorse woman know the scythe is by now tapping them on their shoulders.

The second episode moved me to tears, without me quite knowing why. You know that way such tears start: you’re profoundly whacked round the chops with feeling, and yet somehow you can’t put in place what exactly dealt the blow? Andy takes all of his audience for milk and cookies. It’s that simple and that wondrous. I’ve pondered this for some time now, and the best I can come up with is that what touched me so deeply was the return to childhood represented in this act – the cookies became a symbol of time reversed, and yet also seemed to reverberate as the most apposite symbol of life’s transience. At that moment, I was made aware, without understanding exactly how, of the fact that life is beautiful precisely because it doesn’t last.

So forgive me as I head into the penultimate deep waters paragraph. Last year, I nearly died. I won’t bore you with the details or the melodrama. But one early morning, in hospital, three days before I was finally released, I was busy rubbing my bed neighbour’s back, a dear old man called Fred who was slowly drowning. Emphysema. We stared out the large window that ran along the end of the ward bay; it faced east and the sun was rising. A light breeze susurrated the curtains. The scent of late summer, the change to autumn, crept its way in with the dew’s evaporation. Fred told me he wanted to die. We continued to fix our gazes on the dawn. For a small moment it seemed enough to look and smell and wonder. I hope Fred felt so too.

My love of smell seemed reborn at that precise mid-September moment. What better way to experience life than to have a pleasure that doesn’t last, be haunted by traces from time now gone, on your clothes and on the skin of others, to be lost for words in a reverie of sense? It’s a truism so true it may seem empty, but it bears repeating: life doesn’t last; make sure you live it. And be sure to continue living it through smell.

I’m off for milk and cookies and a sniff of Ambre Narguilé. How ‘bout you?

The other day I was in the office, doing one of those insanely dull things that allows me to avoid getting a real job (in this case, looking through our files for for a tax document) and I realized – hey, what I need is some perfume. So I wandered upstairs and grabbed the vial Patty sent me of Mona di Orio Nuit Noir, because the Cheese wasn’t there to be disgusted by the stench and I was in the mood for something a little gamey. Back downstairs, I dug around in the file cabinet some more until eventually I realized that all the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, a sure sign that something momentous was happening fragrance-wise. So I took a closer sniff and realized I’d put on the wrong fragrance, only I had no idea what it was. Not Mona, that’s for sure. Oh, well. Back to work.

Ten minutes later I gave up even pretending that I was working, because Fragrance X was driving me wild. What is that? I took a couple of long, experimental sniffs on my wrist and tried to sort it out. It had a definite resemblance to the hay-smoke and leather of L’Artisan Fleur de Narcisse, only that wasn’t quite right either. This was more … perfume-y, if you will. Ladylike in structure, with some sort of florals in there, but dirty as hell. A deep, dark base of … what, maybe oakmoss and civet? It smelled like a classic, anyway. I’ve gotten a couple of packages of vintage samples – maybe it was one of those? Eventually, unable to stand it any more, I went back upstairs and dug around in the bowl of stuff-to-try until I found it.

And then I was stunned. Floored. Because, guess what it was!? Caron, my nemesis! Narcisse Noir parfum, created by Ernest Daltroff in 1911 to frighten polite women everywhere.

Here’s a link to Patty’s recent review where she says, “Caron had to have a scent that is an all-out smoldering siren, and Narcisse Noir is the little vixen that fills that slot on the Caron line-up. The Parfum is loaded with civet, and just oozes sensuality while also whispering about class. The EDT is more pretty and civilized, it just keeps the skank octane down to manageable levels. NN is a challenge to wear, and it has taken a while for me to really appreciate it, but every time I put it on, I am just bowled over by its beauty and how it perfectly balances what I think a woman becomes when she is done screwing around with the idea of who she should be or who other people think she is or should be.” Um, Patty — that’s a lovely sentiment about the parfum whispering class. What I am hearing from the parfum, however, is more of a growl, and what it’s saying is so filthy it should have its mouth washed out with soap.

I am shocked by this fragrance. So, Caron lovers out there – is this what I’ve been missing? What is this amazing thing? Where’s the Grim Reaper base? Is my “problem” with Caron rooted in my failure to smell the parfum versions? Maybe what I need my Caron to smell like is whatever dark forces are swirling around in the Noir. Are there other super-dirty Carons? What about that Can-Can thing?

Then I committed a Crime Against Nature. (Patty, please forgive me!) The parfum lasts forever, so that afternoon I … well … I layered it with a dab of CB Musk. And I spent the rest of the day walking around laughing. You know what it made me think of? That old line about Napoleon writing to Josephine after a successful battle: “Home in three days. Don’t wash.”

I really had intended to do a post today, but the two feet of snow outside has just made me somnolent! It’s like a little white cocoon that’s had us wrapped tight, but will start disappearing tomorrow. Iit’s really been a lovely day inside with the family. We wish you all a Merry and Joyous Christmas, Peace and Love.

New pictures of the snow. And since my TV isn’t working as the Dish is covered in snow, are those stupid TV people acting like we all are dead or something? Criminy, it’s just snow, we’ve always had plenty of it here. This snap just cracks me up. Those lumps are our table and chairs that sit on the front porch.

This next one is just the front of the house. Rump-shaking Santa is about covered up, poor thing, just his little hands are above the snow trying to get help. I forgot to get a snap of that, sorry!

The males in this house didn’t get out soon enough and decorate, so I avoided the banned outdoor decorations and got a santa who shakes his hinder instead. The snow is seriously slowing him down, but he is just as tacky and cute as he could be. At this point, and I don’t have updated pictures, Santa’s butt has quit moving, the snow is up over his hinder.

The teenager out shoveling snow. This was early on in the snowstorm. Normally I have better pictures, but said teenager took my digital camera up to his dad’s house and left it there, so my camera on my cell phone had to do.

What does this have to do with perfume? Not a thing, except I have on En Avion, and it is gloriously suited for this kind of cold… it makes me feel confident and strong and warm as the chill winds blow. Like the snow that covered up what had been shoveled away so quickly today, En Avion reminds me of the promise that I can always start again, rich with my history, but not burdened by it.

There is a beauty in a fresh snowfall of ginormous proportions. We can barely open our doors, it’s over a foot now, with more to come. When Buddy ran out the back door, he just sunk in the snow. Of course, he is gloriously happy, but still overjoyed when I let him back in. A fresh snow before Christmas, I’m just happier’n a pig in slop.

It’s a truism that not every old formula in the Coty vault would yield a classic. I believe to some degree in the Darwinian laws as applied to fragrance. And, in an age when the first move of a wannabe starlet is to release her own celebrity scent, I comfort myself with the fact that in a year or a decade, much of this stuff will be gone (although, frankly, in many cases extinction isn’t coming fast enough for me.) There are also glorious fragrances (Donna Karan Chaos springs to mind here) that were killed off in their prime for reasons unrelated to poor sales. Anyway, all of those thoughts crowded my mind as I meandered my way to today’s topic, which was triggered by my tiny vial of Gobin Daude Nuit au Desert.

If you’ve never heard of Gobin Daude, don’t feel bad. I think the line existed for an eyeblink in perfume time. I’m going to sketch in some details from faulty memory, because in a way it doesn’t matter, but feel free to fill in and/or correct me. The perfumer was Victoire Gobin-Daude. There were five fragrances. The only other Gobin Daude I’ve smelled was Jardins Ottomans, a yuzu-laced oriental of such allure I sometimes wonder, now that my sample’s gone, whether my memory exaggerates it. I never smelled Sous le Buis or Seve Exquise, the green ones (boxwood and sap) with their own hardcore fans, and that’s okay because I don’t think I would have appreciated them. However, I’d hand over one of my kids for a taste of Biche dans l’Absinthe (Doe in Absinthe), with its notes of absinthe, immortelle, tobacco and leather. Anyway, there were distribution issues with the Gobin Daudes, or perhaps it was supply. My analogy is watching your favorite new, small restaurant bite the dust. The chef’s a genius, the food is a miracle. But the overhead’s killing them – they’re bleeding cash, the rent’s too high, suppliers balk, the pockets aren’t deep enough. Eventually the backers pull the plug. And where does that leave you?

Well, it leaves me with a few drops of Nuit au Desert. According to a defunct perfumery website, the notes are cedar leaf, hibiscus flower, nard, agar wood. I have no idea what desert Gobin-Daude had in mind, but the one it conjures for me is the desert Southwest, night in New Mexico. I’m pretty sure I’m smelling cedar and vetiver – but they’re dusty, an outdoor smell, footprints in the dark. There’s a note of something green and limpid that runs along in there forever, like the chamisa next to the arroyo. There’s also the faintest note of sweet and herbal – wormwood, maybe, or agastache, mixed with hummingbird vine. If I listen I can hear the wind.

In the end it’s the strange, sheer differentness of Nuit au Desert that breaks my heart. It’s like smelling the Guerlain base for the first time, or an Ormonde Jayne. There’s a shift in the tectonic plates, and in a small way, your world will never be the same. Whether you “like” Mitsouko or Ormonde Woman or Chaos or Narcisse Noir is on some level irrelevant; it’s the gift of smelling them that matters most. The day they locked the doors for the last time at Gobin Daude, at IUNX, and any other small perfumer with a gift, Darwin’s grand theory failed. Or maybe survival of the fittest is not survival of the best, in perfume. Maybe it all comes down to money.

It’s been awhile since we’ve had poetry hour here on the Posse. This one, which I read the first time sitting on a boulder south of Santa Fe, thinking I’d pretty much died and gone to heaven, was written by Loren Eiseley, a naturalist and essayist who was no slouch as a poet, either.

Words for Forgetting

Go forward on these simple roads,
Do not turn back.
The stars behind you in the wind will blow,
The coyote’s track

Delicately replace the lifted dust
Of your own heel.
Go forward and the dark will close
About you. You will feel

The fragrant emptiness of prairie miles.
Now you will own
Nothing that is not yours, yourself
Down to the naked bone.

coyote track: nps.gov

For me, doing Vintage perfume was not an easy route, it was the proverbial trip down the rabbit hole, without having any idea what was in there and what it was going to cost to get there and back.. It fascinated me, but I was always about stuff I could wear right now and was in steady supply. The Gobin-Daude search and find just about killed me — finding Seve Exquise, loving it, and now never being able to get it again. And let’s face it, a lot of vintage isn’t wearable for everyday, not in the society we have that is sensitive to anything that makes a strong statement. But more important, vintage of the really great stuff is super-expensive to get and super-impossible to find. Having a Black Belt in Sniping will not get you what you seek without lots and lots of cash. You are fighting those insane bottle collectors and the perfume collectors, and most of us don’t stand a chance of getting that much-longed-for bottle of Guerlain Djedi (weeps quietly) unless it’s an off day and everyone is asleep. Further, if you were fortunate enough to score that treasure, what do you do when it runs out and there is no more to be had? Throw yourself in front of the Guerlain boutique in Paris, tying yourself to the door until they make some more? Well, yeah, that’s probably the approach I’ll take I would take, though overthrowing the French government, setting up a fast despotic regime so you can order Guerlain to break out the family recipe book and whip up a few batches of Djedi and Fol Arome may be a little more cool and trendy and less personally embarrassing.

Instead of dealing with that portion of heartache, I’ve ignored vintage until just recently. Then the siren song just became too loud, and I blame a few people, and they should know who they are, I’m scowling at them now (picture from Scrimmageville). What happened was it finally became clear to me that enjoying vintage isn’t just about owning it or having enough to wear forever in an uninterrupted supply — it’s about smelling some of the greats, no matter how small a taste you can get, the things that they can’t/won’t make anymore, like vintage Lanvin’s Rumeur, which really is your favorite worn leather saddle after you spilled your wine on it when that handsome cowboy pressed you back against your horse while he was kissing you… or something like that. Sorry, that’s one of my favorite little, um, “mind vignettes,” otherwise known as MFs. It’s about finding a scent that makes your heart pound because it is so gorgeous, like Guerlain’s Fol Arome – I don’t know what all notes are in this, a little anise, and who cares what the rest is, it is simply unlike anything else I have smelled, and it is utterly unique and beautiful. Others fall into this category — Miss Dior parfum, Weil Antilope, Sortilege, Lucien Lelong Passionement (whoever decided to ditch this should be shot, drawn and quartered and then shot again), the vintage Carons, which, thankfully, have stayed much the same. Some things are not so old, but just discontinued, like Fath de Fath, Donna Karan Chaos (anyone want to go in on a bottle split? All this talk by March is just killing me).

Do I need to own those? Well, yes!!! I mean, dang, you’ve got to be kidding me, I’d love to have all of them or at least one of them, but this is where I have changed in how I think of having and knowing a perfume. Regardless of possession, I will carry the memories of how these smell forever, and I really don’t need to wear them regularly or even once in a blue moon, though I find it most comforting to have a small sample or decant of all of them nearby. It is enough to know they existed at one time and were beautiful and still exist here and there in someone’s perfume collection or gramma’s bottom drawer. In the case of Guerlain, I will remain optimistic that one day Djedi and Fol Arome will find themselves on the re-issue list. In the meantime, there’s samples of these floating around, some on eBay, and it is well worth the scent education to have smelled them. Is it worth the trip down the Rabbit Hole? Oh, yes, it definitely is.

If you could pick any discontinued perfume in the world to get a little sample of, what would it be? And what full bottle would you most want?

I love Monday. You know why? Because Hecate and Buckethead, the 4-year-old twins, are back at preschool. It’s been really warm here. Yesterday they got tired of waiting for snow, so they made their own — two boxes of Kleenex tissue, shredded into tiny bits and tossed around their room. It was pretty mild in terms of what they can do, but still a bit of a drag. It’s my fault, of course. I spent the day walking around the house in a fugue state, sniffing my wrists. If I were a better mother they’d be locked in the dog kennel in the family room where I can keep an eye on them.

Anyway, today’s post is dedicated to Maria B., a commenter who thanked a fellow commenter for “writing out the names of the scents and makers, (because) some of us need the extra help.” Maria B. (and all you newbies and lurkers who have still not commented): do you think I abbreviate “C&S” to taunt you? I do not. I write “C&S” because it saves me from googling Czech & Speake (?) for the 53rd time in an effort to save myself from looking like a doofus for spelling it wrong. I mean, it’s not like my street cred is golden to start with, bandying about technical terms like “buttcrack” and putting up pictures of Santa’s village and shirtless young studs (hey, here’s a nice one!) If all I wrote about was Avon maybe I’d be okay, but I barely speak English, and now that new releases are named Ilang Batoango and Les Fleurs Danse Pour Elle … you see what I’m saying here. (Also, have you, uh, noticed how many fragrance bloggers also speak French and/or Russian? They leave comments for each other like, Тот март, она как сдуру курица которая избегала от фермы. Возможно я полью некоторую из моей самой дешевой водочки в vial и пошлю его к ей! What’s up with that, anyway?)

But I digress. My point is, I’ll try to do better about the abbreviations. If you’re unclear on something, leave a comment saying “what are you talking about?!” Don’t be shy. Okay, let’s get on with the candy:

Lanvin Rumeur, vintage version – remember how much I liked the new Rumeur, because it’s sweet (but not too), and don’t you love that cute little bottle?! And how the vintage gals all moaned about what a travesty the new version is? Well, guess what? They were right. We have been euchred, and the folks at Lanvin should be dragged to a public place and sprayed with Baby Phat Goddess until they weep for mercy (how many sprays is that – two? Three?) I have no clue what’s in the original, but it dries down into the sort of wine-tinged leather you’d douse yourself in after you rouged your nipples and laced up your corset. What a fool I was.

JAR Shadow – I knew it was kicking around here somewhere! I ran across it looking for the Isabey Gardenia. Oh, that’s uber-jeweler Joel Arthur Rosenthal, his fragrances are spendy and unconventional and veryverysecret and you have to go to Bergdorf and sit in a little room to smell them. Which is not intimidating, it’s totally fun, so if you’re ever in NYC, don’t be a goober – go already. You’ll thank me. There are seven of them, I think. Shadow is a little creepy – they don’t release any notes, and I have no clue what’s in here, either. If Close Your Eyes is the hogpen on the farm, then Shadow is the root cellar – dirt, smoke, pickle jars and the odd bottle of wine. I can’t say I like it, but it’s so compelling I can’t stop myself from sniffing it.

Lalique Le Parfum – I now have, I think, three vials of this from various sources, which I keep ignoring. Notes are: Bergamot, Bay Leaves, Red Pepper, Jasmine, Heliotrope, Almond, Patchouli, Vanilla. My problem is, all I can think to say is, it’s so pretty!, and how uninspiring is that? The conclusion I’ve reached is that maybe “so pretty” isn’t my cup of tea, and that’s okay. It’s a little late now, but if you’re casting around for a gift fragrance that isn’t taking any risks but is unabashedly pretty, and you don’t know what to get, consider this one. If you poke around online you can find the EDP for less than $100.

Miller et Bertaux Spiritus/Land also came up a few times in the comments on my Santa post. This should be on everyone’s to-try list if you like interesting, dirty scents – as in dirt, not skank. From the intense, improbable burst of ginger at the opening through the tobacco and right into the ginger-woody drydown, this is one of those fragrances I appreciate the more I smell other things. Easily unisex, interesting but not difficult, clever but not annoying … what is not to love? (Okay … it could have more lasting power.) Re-smelling it I totally understand why many of you mentioned it as a scent for this season – that unsweetened ginger kick combined with the slightly green woods is December in a bottle.

Hermessences Paprika Brasil – Notes are: pimento, clove, paprika, iris, green leaves, woody notes. Did Jean Claude Ellena fall down and bump his head? What … is this? Do irises grow in Brazil? What I am smelling is peppered iris – L’Artisan Piment Brulant (sans cocoa) meets Ormonde Jayne Orris Noir. Am I complaining? Nope; I actually really like this, although I wouldn’t pay $180 or whatever the going rate is. I know the general feeling on this one was disappointment, with words like “wan” in the reviews. I’m not a huge fan of the Hermessences in general, so maybe I’m a contrarian indicator. If you like orris and want to try one with decent heat as a foil for the usual cold earthiness, this one’s for you.

Notes for nuts: When describing Fendi Theorema I said I found a hint of Chaos in the drydown. I tried layering them, and if you have both of them sitting around, maybe you should too. Then ask yourself the question: is it immoral to smell that good? (Answer: no.)

Caron Parfum Sacre. Illustrating March’s perfume equation of two wrongs (Caron + rose) making a right. Notes are : Lemon, Pepper, Mace, Cardamom, Orange Blossom, Rose, Jasmine, Rosewood. Vanilla, Myrrh, Civet, Cedarwood. Patty tolerates my lack of appreciation for Caron, and she does her duty by sending Caron samples to me fairly regularly, hoping the light will go on. There’s a glimmer with this one. Yes, it does have the Grim Reaper Caron base, and the rose does not love me. But somehow … it works, doesn’t it? It reminds me a bit of Serge Lutens’ Rose de Nuit. A slightly soiled high-button silk glove of a scent.

dsquared image: modemodels.com

Caron had to have a scent that is an all-out smoldering siren, and Narcisse Noir is the little vixen that fills that slot on the Caron line-up. Created by Ernest Daltroff in 1911, this was the perfume that really started the Caron brand and cache, even though it was not their first perfume. Now, be careful not to confuse the parfum with the EDT. I have both, and they are very different in feel. The Parfum is loaded with civet, and just oozes sensuality while also whispering about class. The EDT is more pretty and civilized, it just keeps the skank octane down to manageable levels. NN is a challenge to wear, and it has taken a while for me to really appreciate it, but every time I put it on, I am just bowled over by its beauty and how it perfectly balances what I think a woman becomes when she is done screwing around with the idea of who she should be or who other people think she is or should be. I could not have worn this when I was younger, nor would I have appreciated it, and I think I’ll appreciate it more every year that I grow older. The woman who wears this has a husky voice from a couple of years of drinking too much and smoking, a loud laugh, and likes to have men open doors for her. It is my scented friend that knows who I am even when I forget as I get buried in family, laundry, cleaning, bills, and work.

Notes of Persian black narcissus, orange blossom, bergamot, lemon, mandarin, petitgrain, rose, jasmine, jonquil and civet.

Notes of lilac, rose, violet, iris, vetiver, cedar, sandalwood, vanilla, amber, musk, oakmoss make up Caron’s N’Aimez Que Moi. I had reviewed this in the 12 Days of Violets last Christmas, and I believe it was one of my favorite violets. This is another one you shouldn’t get confused with Aimez Moi, which is the EDT and much sweeter. I don’t mind the EDT, but I prefer the urn parfum. It starts very flowery and what some people would call “Old Lady’ish.” Not sure why that is, maybe the violets always remind people of ancientness? Which is just goofy when you think about it. This is the perfume that really taught me to admire the violet’s strength. They certainly hold their own in a very strong composition, though the violets and rose blend together more than other straight-up violet concoctions, but in this, it is showcased. It is a violet surrounded by roses laying in a mossy forest. I mean, what’s not to love there? And I do. It always reminds me that no matter how delicate the flower may appear, with their shy heads and wilty ways, they are strong and resilient. You can get this from the Caron Boutique or snag a sample or decant from Diane at Dragonfly Scent me.

That’s me on the right with my two best friends in high school — wearing my Farrah hair and CPO jacket proudly. And what was with those jeans? I remember them being very popular that year since both Cindy and I had them on.

If anyone has been around this blog for a while, you know that I have been hunting forever to sniff Stephen B, the long-discontinued drugstore perfume I wore in high school. The lovely Miss March persisted longer than I did and found a little bottle on eBay. I’ve been sniffing this off and on for a couple of months, not really sure what I thought about it. When I first opened it, I was just taken back so many years, to my youth, when boys were toys to be played with and all of my life stretched out before me and I still wanted to “Die Before I Got Old.” I remembered it as being much more grown up and muskier than it actually is, but I surprisingly still like it, even though the scent itself is a little damaged in some of the notes. It’s not a true picture of the perfume, but close enough for my purposes — I can remember the rest. It makes me a little sad because I was right about drugstore scents from back then…they used to be great, and this one is far better, even with damaged notes, than any of the crap sold in drugstores or hawked by celebrities today.

What I’ve found out in my trip down scented memory lane — it was perfect for who I was then and actually makes sense of the things I like today. In smelling it, it’s like the little girl version of Narcisse Noir and N’aimez Que Moi — a little bit dark, but not scary dark; a little bit classy, but not so much that I can’t have fun and fly my teenage freak flag at least at half mast; a little sensuous, but not in that Really Bad Girl punchboard kind of way; and it is resilient without becoming bitter.

Perky little cheerleader dressed in cashmere twinsets who keeps flipping up her skirt at the boys to get them to go behind the bleachers with her when she thinks the teachers and her parents aren’t paying attention, that’s Mona di Orio’s Nuit Noire. I knew that girl, and just about the time I thought I nailed it down that she was a slut and stealing boyfriends, she’d smooth her skirt down, smile pretty and take homemade chocolate chip cookies to the Long Term Care Unit before morning mass. Yeah, that’s right, that girl. As much as I wanted to dislike her, I just couldn’t — could only admire her panache in carrying off that duality. Nuit Noire doesn’t change as she sits on the skin, but she just has two faces — just when I think she’s a fairly innocent thing, she just gets nasssssty. Notes of orange flower, cardamom, ginger, orange guinee, olibian, cinnamon, tuberose, sandalwood, clove, cedarwood, amber, leather, musk and tonka bean… and the smut note is a bonus. Available from The Perfume Shoppe, who I just adore.

Always a lady, soft and kind, reminds you of Miss Melanie from Gone With the Wind, but if you poke her a little, she turns around with her glowing red eyes, fangs bared and hisses at you… that’s JAR Jarling. Elegant, beautiful, slightly evil — I forgot just how much. This thing is so gorgeous, it needs its own planet to live on so the other fragrances don’t bother it. Now, I realize not everyone feels that way, but it’s probably the most comforting almond smell I’ve run across, but there is that slightly malevolent undercurrent that I find in most of the JARs, and I don’t mean that as a bad thing, that gives it more, um, spark! It doesn’t change as much as the other JARs do in the drydown. The reviews I ran across on MUA and POL called it all sorts of bad names, like baby lotion drydown and soap but most of the JARs react strongly to the person, so I think what I love, and so does Luca (throwing out his name so y’all don’t think I’m just completely balmy in my love for this), may turn into something disgustingly powdery on someone else. Now, powder is Kryptonite to me, so I’m totally not getting the powder — I get a lot more almond and something spicy, a little licoricey and then there’s some floral later on, some people have said Lilac, and that sounds about right, it does have a little bit of an En Passanty feel to it. Available from Bergdorf Goodman for an astronomical sum plus a dollar.

What is superfun is having these two on at the same time. I don’t know whether to polish my halo or chug some Green Jesus Juice* and ditch my panties and dignity.

Best customer service this week goes to B-Glowing and Yosh. I won’t go into details, but will just say they went above and beyond. Their customer care was a breath of fresh air on the heels of dealing (still, for three weeks now!) another shop with absolutely horrific customer service follow-through. It makes me appreciate very much the great shops like B-Glowing, The Perfume Shoppe, La Creme Beauty, Luckyscent, and even the snooty Aedes guys who ignored us on our visit, but do a good job of getting perfume out.

A very special giveaway this week — It’s Christmas! Whether you celebrate or not, please feel free to enter this drawing. There will be two winners, and you will get a sample pack of some very special things, very hard to get, plus you can pick one additional sample from my collection that you would like.

*Green Jesus Juice is a plastic trash can of full Lime Kool-Aid and Everclear. Don’t ask, I don’t remember.

First: our spam filter catches tons of porn every day, and I am grateful – and you should be too, because most of it is so sick and wrong it makes me yearn for the v!agra spam of yore. But sometimes legitimate comments get tagged as spam, for reasons that elude me. If you’ve lovingly labored over a comment, posted it, and it fails to appear – my apologies, I know how annoying that is. Leave another brief comment saying we’ve lost one, and I’ll put on my biohazard suit and wade into the filter and retrieve it. In a perfect world we’d check every day, but frankly the filth in the spam cesspool is so disturbing and disheartening (incest! animals!) that neither of us can face going in there.

Also: the winners of the Theorema draw: Sybil, Camilla and Gaia! Send me your address via Contact Us.

Down to business: You will be unsurprised to hear that when it comes to holiday décor, More Is More at our house, a view I inherited from my mother, who emerged from her cocoon every year around Thanksgiving and went into a frenzy that lasted into early January. She collected angels, and I still get a twinge when I see one I love in some shop and realize she isn’t here to give it to, although I have added a few to her collection. They join our ridiculous tree (she was partial to odd ornaments – pickles, dinosaurs, deep-sea-divers), the crèche, the spinning candle-powered nativity thing, Noah’s ark and the barnyard, the vintage cardboard Christmas village … you get the idea. This year we set up another tree on the front porch, to be joined by the icicle lights, which we just took down in May because I don’t like to rush things. It took awhile to convert the Big Cheese to my way of thinking (his mother believed in a single strand of white lights on the tree, and thought actually ornamenting it was vulgar), but he’s a smart man who picks his battles, and he obviously wasn’t winning this one. I love that guy.

Anyway, we still have to bake and decorate cookies, make a couple sheets of toffee, finish up the window stencils made with Glass Wax (try it, it’s fun!) and go to the joyously tacky Holiday Light Display at the botanical gardens. But in the meantime, here are the scents I seem to reach for this time of year:

1) Etro Messe de Minuit – yeah, I know. To normal folks it smells like mildew. But to me that’s overridden by the spices. A meditative incense fragrance I like to wear to church. However, layered with CB Black March I definitely get that Eau de Crypt thing going on.
2) Armani Prive Bois d’Encens. A brutal, uncompromising incense that I originally found unwearable and eventually bought a bottle of, because it’s a work of art. As cold as the inside of the Sainte-Chapelle in February.
3) L’Artisan Passage d’Enfer – so, are you noting a trend here? I didn’t grow up associating incense with church, but it’s not a hard connection to grasp, even if you’re totally nonreligious. PdeE – my joyous, uplifting incense.
4) Caron Nuit de Noel – the first time I read about this I knew it would be the most perfect, glorious thing I’ve ever smelled. And one of these years I’m going to smell it and that miracle will actually happen. I am powerless against the suggestion of this fragrance.
5) Donna Karan Chaos – there’s something about its woody/solar wonder that is perfect for decorating the tree, going to holiday parties, etc.
6) Serge Lutens Fleurs d’Oranger. The first time I smelled this I hated it – there’s that weird cumin note at the opening. By my third attempt I was hopelessly in love. Lush, over-the-top, one of the very few SLs I wear rather than just admire. My go-to scent on bitter cold days when I’m a bit depressed.
7) CB I Hate Perfume Winter 1972 – the smell of snow. Along with the dirt underneath, wool mittens, and the edge of your ice skates. A cold smell that warms me.

Okay, what gets you in the mood for whatever you’re celebrating (or not) in the next few weeks?

cardboard village and glass wax/stencils (and lots of other fine retro stuff): vermontcountrystore.com

Recently I had the opportunity to try several products from Maryam’s Soap Nook. She has a ton of great products — handmade soaps, scrubs, body butters, body oil, body mists, and there is always a special with extras when you spend over a certain dollar amount. She has things with scent and without scent for those of you that like your body products low octane in the fragance area.

The whipped body butter is just excellent. (No, it’s not Frederical Malle’s Beurre Exquise, but it’s also not over $100 for a tub of it!) It went on really smooth and emollient and kept me moisturized for hours, which is tough to do in Denver.  $15 for an 8 ounce jar and $25 for a 16-ounce jar.  The Shea Butter and Dead Sea Salt Glow Scrub scented with lemongrass, lime and Ginger was the bomb – loved the fragrance and got a great sloughing with a lot of moisture in the oil keeping my skin all moisturized. Followed with the body butter, I almost forgot I live in high desert… and it’s winter. $15 for an 8 ounce jar. The soaps are handmade and scented beautifully.

Some random perfume samplings:

Heeley Cardinale - Hadn’t tried any Heeley before, but this one was an incense scent, and saying incense to me is like waving zee red flag in front of  zee bull.  Notes of incense, cistus, grey amber, patchouli, and vetiver. This incense really isn’t heavy at all, it’s the uplifting variety, if incense scents can be airy.  Laying outside on a fall day with the sun shining down on you brightly with incense wafting out the windows of the monastery nearby — the smell of earth and sun and irreverent reverence.  Beautifully done and well worth a sniff by all incense lovers.   $80 for 100 ml, available from Luckyscent.

Isabey Gardenia –  Once upon a time I got married, and I foolishly decided to have the moms wear corsages made of gardenias because, well, who doesn’t love gardenias?  If any of you have spent a few hours in close proximity to gardenias in close quarters, you know why you don’t swath the moms in gardenias — they were ever-so-gently trying to discard them into the trash after two hours.  They become oppressive and — the gardenias, not the moms — almost unbearable, like eating a whole box of See’s chocolates, not that I’ve ever done that (crosses self, promises to go to confession this week for that whopper).  When I heard people caterwauling about this Isabey Gardenia, which is a reissue of a fragrance from 1929, I was thinking they are obviously Southern hothouse flowers used to oppressive gardenia smells. Sorry, don’t mean it, I love the South.  Notes of tangerine bark, ylang-ylang, orange flowers, gardenia extract, Bulgarian rose, jasmine, iris, musk, ambergris, sandalwood.  Give the perfumer a few gold stars here, he/she got the gardenia and blended it beautifully so I don’t want to discard my arm. It’s not oppressive at all, it’s got the best of the gardenia all wrapped up so it comes through beautifully without that heady overripeness that the real flower has.  Also available from Luckyscent for the jaw-dropping $165 for 50 mls, which just put the brakes on my lusting after it. 

And then there was a horrible shopping accident.  What has happened to me?  Long ago, I never really cared about the pure parfum versions of perfume or about bottles. I just want the juice, it doesn’t matter if it comes in a Mason jar with a screw-top lid on it.  In one weekend, the pure parfum versions of Fath de Fath (Katie, isn’t it you that raves about this one all the time?); Nina Ricci Capricci and Farouche; and Guerlain Vol de Nuit and Nahema parfums fell into my eBay shopping cart.  This is just insane.  I’m blaming certain people out there who talk to me about vintage and bottles, and you should know who you are. But just look at that Capricci bottle! (photo from Passionforperfume)  Okay, My credit cards are officially melted, and I am totally ignoring any other vintage butterflies that go flitting by.

I have to know, for those of you that do vintage perfumes, what has been your best find ever?

WARNING: ADULT CONTENT. Contains drug use, SA mockery, fragrance addiction, caffeine abuse, sexual references, chocolate and mild obscenities.

Louise and I were supposed to meet at Tysons II at 10:30 for some sniffage, but we were already running behind. For one thing, she woke up with a migraine and she was a little loopy on her meds. I always have trouble hustling two four-year-olds out the door, and I had a wicked sinus headache, plus I’m taking drugs for my leaf-mold allergies, so I was feeling a little spacey. It was all okay until the traffic on the Beltway stopped because they’d closed our exit for a bomb scare. Honest to God, only in Washington, D.C., with paranoia at Cold War levels, could you get a Beltway closure, three news helicopters and the bomb squad for a section of PVC pipe on the side of the road that probably fell off the back of a plumber’s truck. But there we sat, and I really needed a ladies’ room. It was beginning to cross my mind that layering two kinds of antihistamines with my hard-core prescription headache pills on an empty stomach was maybe not a good idea. We idled. Eventually we came up with Plan B – head further up the highway and double back in the Tysons Corner holiday traffic, my idea of hell. I was addled enough at that point I remember thinking, come on, a pipe bomb?! How many people can you kill with that thing, anyway!? Open the exit and let me through!

But we made it. We started at Starbucks with a little more caffeine for our headaches, where I made myself a sample of Louise’s C&S Frankincense and Myrrh, and handed over my end of the deal. With me flying high, we wandered into Saks, where we had an existential discussion with the SA regarding whether Flowerbomb Extreme really existed anywhere other than in my mind, and she’d only give us one paper test strip at a time (grudgingly). So, Patty and others, you’re right — F-bomb Extreme is a rather nice scent, I can see your guilty pleasure, although honestly its praline-comfort thing reminded me a lot of Betsey Johnson. Then we stopped by the Jo Malone kiosk, where Louise enjoyed the cocoa-powder goodness of Blue Agava & Cacao, and we discussed the question of which JM we hated the most. (Answer: Pom Noir).

At NM I went looking for the Parfum des Merveilles. But again we were stymied by the SA, who wouldn’t let Louise smell Versace’s The Dreamer (“it’s a men’s fragrance,” she kept explaining) and then worked hard to convince me that the Elixir des Merveilles was the parfum variant of the Eau. When that failed, she got busy trying to convince me that the larger of their two Eau bottles was actually the Parfum, and the walls were vibrating a little, at which point I started looking around for the caterpillar with the hookah. She kept producing things I didn’t want to smell but couldn’t find the things I did want to smell, and again there were no paper test strips – they’re all pre-sprayed with Cartier Baiser du Dragon now, and whenever we asked for some clean ones, she left. (Is there some paper shortage I’m unaware of?) I was feeling a little Hunter-Thompson-gonzo-perfume-ish, only I’m female and the drugs were legal, but the trip just kept getting more surreal. I smelled Cartier Declaration, which you can have, and Louise totally fell for the immortelle wonder of Dior’s aptly named Eau Noire.

Along about 2:00 I realized I was hungry, and I should have eaten a salad or something real, but I knew there was no way I could sit still in a chair. So instead we headed for Art With Flowers to smell some niche product, and I had a Vosges Goji chocolate bar (goji berries, pink Himalayan salt – they have other great flavors, too, my second favorite being Red Fire with chipotle chiles and cinnamon), which would have been a perfect lunch in a parallel universe where smart women make foolish choices but don’t get vicious rebound headaches the next day. My discovery of Vosges resembles my discovery of Malle fragrances – I thought $7 was an absurd amount of money for a 3-oz. bar of chocolate, until I tasted it, at which point it seemed perfectly reasonable.

Things got a little hazy after the Vosges. The SMN Kyoto went all soapy on Louise, and I sniffed the L’Artisan Bottega Veneta Intreccio #2 candle, which is less leather, more woods-incense, and just gorgeous, and then I’m pretty sure Bill showed us a new line they’re carrying which features three fragrance oils, some candles built specially for dripping hot wax on the body, a bondage blindfold and vibrators at three price points (gold, silver and platinum!) There I was, holding a vibrator and trying not to giggle because I was worried about snorting a goji berry up my nose, when it dawned on me that the flickering lights were probably a looming migraine and maybe I should go home while I could still see. Louise had some shoe-shopping to do, so we said our goodbyes and I went to throw some cold water on my face in the Neiman Marcus ladies’ before getting behind the wheel.

On the way home I turned on the iPod, which is when I realized my 12-year-old’s been expanding her iTunes playlist beyond Cher and U2 to that rollicking, hilariously unprintable paean to oral pleasure, Pitbull’s Lengua Fuera (“tongue out”) – which, okay, I love reggaeton, if you’re not squirming to that beat you must be dead, and is there anything hotter than the way those guys say “mami”? But where on earth did she find this song, and now that she’s in her second year of Spanish, does she have any idea what he’s talking about? (Note to self: check iPod playlist when you get home. Discuss.)

I went home and cleaned up – the house, I mean. I thought some physical labor would help me re-tether to planet Earth. It helped. Eating a sandwich and drinking several large glasses of water helped, too. I had a great time, except I worry that Louise thought I was insane. Louise, hon, if you’re reading this – I think you should buy the Eau Noire. Definitely.

It’s my birthday today, and I’m getting older ‘n dirt, and where… are… MY… PRESENTS?!?!?! Hahahaha! Just kidding, just kidding, unless it’s that Mugler Coffret.

Lurkers — for those of you that think about commenting, but you’re hesitant because we all seem to know each other pretty well, I just have to say, I didn’t know most of these people a year ago, and my first comment I posted on another blog made me nervous because I thought everyone knew each other and looked pretty tight. The very coolest thing about the perfume community is that it is welcoming and warm. Just jump in! You don’t have to know a lot about perfume or anything at all, but you do know what you like or what you want. I think everyone that blogs has been the lone dissenter on a fragrance or two, so liking something everyone hates is perfectly o-k. Well, except… no, no, no exceptions. So please make yourself at home and comment when you want. We love the back and forth, it’s what makes this fun, even when you disagree and think I’m out of my mind or March has a weird nose that likes things that smell like worms and feet.

We’re all friends, right? Okay, confession time. I have perfumes that I panic if I’m without that I never, ever wear.

I call them Scent Woobies, and they tend to be gourmands, but not always. I don’t very often want on my skin to wear around all day, they just bother me or are too distracting, but I have to have the bottle so I can take a quick sniff hit of my favorite comfort juice when I need cheering up or just scenty love.

At the top of the list is Serge Lutens Rahat Loukhoum. I love the open on it, but the drydown just is weird on me. Every time I open the bottle and that beautiful almond creaminess floats up to my nose, my eyes roll back in my head and I just sigh contentedly. Honest to God, this really should be a candle, I’d spend as much for the candle as for the perfume.

Next on the list is Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle. Now, this couldn’t be further from a gourmand, and I find it difficult to wear very often, though I do wear it from time to time. That camphor’ish blast with the tuberose lollygagging around in the background on opening the bottle is just my idea of happy scents, and it will also clear my nose if I’m a little congested. Comfort scent? Yeah, for the weirdest of reasons. It reminds me, when I’m feeling all mommyish and frumpy that I am also all girl and need some tarting up every now and then.

Hermessence Ambre Narguile (aka Nazgul) — I hate this scent with the heat of a thousand burning suns, but only on my skin. The honey note in there and just the over-the-topness of the caramel and amber is just the last thing I want to smell all day. But a hit or two off the bottle is a slice of heaven…. or caramel nougat…. whatever. I can’t think of much that is more comforting than this smell.

What are your comfort scents — not the ones you love to wear — the ones that you really don’t want to wear, but need to have around?

This the next in my series of Caron love because I have declared December We Love Caron Month. If you don’t love Caron, shh!

Caron Poivre — I don’t have enough words in my vocabulary to express how much I love this scent. This is the deeper, more refined relative of Coup de Fouet. Coup de Fouet is pretty grown up most days, but you keep finding it off in the corner torturing boys while the more elegant, but still as hot, Poivre looks on, bemused by the younger cousin’s sometimes disreputable behavior. The spicy warmth of the carnation just folds down into your skin and wraps you up in its spell. Created in 1954, this perfume is absolutely timeless. Notes of red pepper, black pepper, giroflore, carnation, ylang ylang, opoponax, sandalwood, vetiver and oakmoss. There is an emotional attachment for me to this and to Coup de Fouet. Which note(s) it is that forms that attachment is unclear, and it may be a combination of the carnation and pepper and incense, but it is there, and it makes Poivre and Coup de Fouet scents that I must always have and that I wear when I need elegant comfort.

Caron Nuit de Noel — I had tried this in the EDT a couple of years ago, and I just didn’t really get it, it just didn’t seem to be worthy of the name. Liked it, didn’t love it. I got the parfum recently and changed my opinion entirely. Created in 1922 by Daltroff, it was made to conjure up images, via scent, of Christmas Eve. Notes of classical rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, oakmoss, sandalwood and vetiver. This is the smell of Christmas Eve the way I have it in my head — the anticipation, the warmth of being with the people I love, the smell of the nuts my dad was cracking, quiet, candlelit cathedrals, Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus, the sounds of “O, Holy Night” being sung, and if I smell really close, just a bit of the smell of chocolate covered cherries that we got as gifts at church and all gave to my dad to eat because we hated them. Though it does bring to mind for me everything that is wonderful about Christmas Eve, it’s not really the smells of Christmas Eve, but the feel of being snug and happy with the people you want to be with — it pauses the human engine that is always on the hunt for its own elusive happiness and makes you content right where you are.

Both are available from the Caron boutique in New York or you can e-mail Diane at dhaska@alesgroup.com for more information.

Update on the bottle splits, I’m going to run these cyclicially as long as there is interest, and you can click on the link to the left with more details. Next up for bottle splits in January — Or et Noir (still need another 30-50 mls spoken for to make that happen), Tabac Blond extrait, N’aimez Que Moi. February bottle splits — Acacosia, Pois de Senteur, French Cancan and Narcisse Blanc.

Today’s post is dedicated to two fragrances I can’t believe don’t get more play among fragrance lovers, at least that I’ve noticed. I’m posting them together because the contrast amuses me – one is so beautiful, and the other one’s so ugly.

First, thanks to Robin at Now Smell This, I finally tried Fendi Theorema. Have you smelled this? What rock have I been living under? I’ve never even seen it, and I’m almost afraid to review it for fear of hexing the whole thing and causing the discounters to stop carrying it. Notes (courtesy of Imagination Perfumery) are: California Tangelo, Thai Shamouti (sweet orange), Jasmine, Osmanthus, Spices, Cinnamon, Pink pepper, Cream, Amber, Macassar, Mysore, Sandalwood, Gaiac wood, Musk. The only review I spotted on the fragrance blogs was Robin’s (forgive me if I missed one.) Anyway, she describes it perfectly: “The top notes are mostly orange with strong spice notes … It settles into a soft, lightly spicy scent with woody base notes. The sweet cream gives it a milky, almost vanillic feel … however it is by no means overly sweet…”

Theorema opens on a note of juicy orange, transforming fairly quickly into a scent that makes me think of a milky, spiced orange chai tea. It has a rich, woody drydown that’s a cross between Mandarine Mandarin and Chaos, if you can imagine. But it’s more straightforward than either of those two – there’s something wonderfully transparent about it, like looking through the amber-colored glass above. Robin describes it further as a “winter comfort scent.” I’ll quibble with that only to the degree that it is comforting, but it’s also gorgeous — a perfectly-cut dress of a scent, not a cashmere sweater. When I take the cap off, I keep expecting light to come streaming out of it. Rumor is it’s discontinued, but Imagination Perfumery has the EDP for $37.99! (you want the EDP) UPDATE WEDS. AM — YOU’VE BEEN BUSY, IT’S SOLD OUT ON IP, but there’s always eBay…

Moving on to the Beast: when we lived in the Southwest, the ranchers there had the wonderful expression “all hat, no cattle,” used to describe someone who was either a faux-rancher or otherwise pretentious. That expression springs to mind when I think of Eau du Prince Jardinier, created by Isabelle Doyen, which is so unloved that Luckyscent can’t even get rid of their inventory at $25 a bottle. Notes are: Clary Sage, Mandarin, Sweet Orange, Tarragon, Angelica, Olibanum, Balsam Fir. The key to this scent is that it’s “all cattle, no hat” – the opening is so tame it makes you think of some tasteful citrus-bergamot Eau de Snooze man-juice. (The other problem with this scent is it’s much better sprayed than dabbed.) It’s the antithesis of the way popular fragrances are designed to appeal – there’s no hook there to grab you in the first 30 seconds. But the drydown! Within fifteen minutes its weirdness begins to emerge, like a gremlin from a velvet sack, one small, oddly-shaped part at a time. There’s the clary-sage and tarragon herb garden; the fragrance is so sap-green at this point it’s almost over my line – and, speaking of which, what is that other impolite smell crawling out? Muskrat? (Or maybe a civet dashed through the garden last night). If you’ve been reading this blog much, you know right there I am charmed, and I am sure the angelica is adding its own heady funk in there, along with the pronounced incense note of olibanum. Finally, there’s some leather that I think is an illusion – it’s referenced in the Luckyscent commentary but not listed in the notes. But it’s definitely there, like my old cowhide gardening gloves, steeped in five years of peat and sweat. Compelled to use one word to describe this fragrance, I’d say “impolite” – it smells both herbal and feral on me. Stylistically it is probably the antithesis of Theorema, and that’s okay. They’ll look mighty nice next to each other on the shelf.

Finally, today’s giveaway: You Must Be Joking. I’m going to do three sample sets of viles — er, vials of lovely Theorema plus a special bonus of sh!t NOBODY will buy – but, hey, that’s why it’s free! Yep, you’ll also be receiving Jardinier AND two of my beloved horrors from Diptyque – L’Eau Trois (incense? or hell?) and Elide (lavender/citrus? or hell?) If you’re interested in the giveaway, leave a note saying so in the comments. I’ll announce the winners next week.

Amber Light image - pbase.com

This is from Patty — I’d like to introduce you all to Bryan. He’s a great perfume collector, has great taste in scents, and March and I thought we’d like to have some male perspective on the blog from time to time. Please make him feel welcome!

________________________________________________________________________________________________

What is a masterpiece? I haven’t the inclination here to dive into the abstract. Suffice it to say, we know what they are when we see them, and most certainly when we smell them. Guerlain’s Shalimar, Caron’s Tabac Blonde, Lanvin’s Arpege. Further, we can justify their existence without actually enjoying them personally. Angel is an easy example, or even the classic Rochas scents which I won’t name for fear of the comments. They are masterpieces though, and I would be a fool to call them anything else.Frederic Malle, or more specifically, Dominque Ropion’s Tubereuse Oeuvre is a formidable runner for the same title. I fell in love with this scent the moment the molecules hit the air…right before landing on my arm. One might say I took a trip through the looking glass and I have no intention of coming back.Some say it is a chilly, florist’s scent. Others, a dreamy tuberose concoction full of sexual inuendo and the like. It is more than that, though certainly the aforementioned are anything but misleading. This is not Fracas’ sibling, nor is it the magnificent Tubereuse Criminelle’s long lost cousin. This is, quite simply, Mr. Ropion’s ode to the blossom which no doubt God created to remind us who’s Boss.

No human can come up with a molecule so complex as to both calm and excite the senses. We ought not even try…just enjoy.

Carnal Flower thus opens with a verdant fresh luminosity. The tuberose is there, hinting at what is behind the curtain. This note, this magnificent note, waits, eager for the proper entrance. We thankfully do not have to wait too long before, graced with an entourage befitting royalty, she is PRESENT. Jasmine and Coconut whisper behind her back. Not viciously, mind you, and they do not call attention to themselves (Mr. Ropion, as a true artist recognizes, knows when too much would have been just that). This tuberose graces us with her presence, demanding full attention, until she tires of us (not vice-versa). (Though technically I suppose we could assassinate her with a little Tide, but am I going too far here?)

The drydown is simply breathtaking, with the beautiful flower never taking a bow too soon; and the topnotes help in maintaining the “unisex” theme. I personally am in Luca Turin’s and Chandler Burr’s camp, that there is no such thing as a man’s or woman’s scent. I wear what I want without the help of advertising executives. On a man, this is a deep fresh scent. On a woman, a floral to end all others.

Carnal Flower is truly one of the most mesmerizing scents to come along in years. It is a scent that captures the true beauty of one of natures most beguiling flowers. Tuberose does not like to share. Mr. Ropion clearly knew the ins and outs of this tempestuous botanical.

Say wha