First, we interrupt our fourplay post to bring you this PSA: Bloggers! Payola! Ohmy!!!
So all I want to know… if big, fat payoffs are getting coughed up for perfume reviews, where the hell are mine?!?!? What am I, chopped liver?!?!? I can be bought! Those of you tuning into Aromascope this week and the fragrance board at MUA might have seen that there is an allegation perfume companies have been offering or paying cash to bloggers to write positive reviews.
Let me quote March on this, more or less…. “Hampton Court probably didn’t give me a free sample of this so I could piss all over it, but…” and then she proceeded to piss all over it…. a sample, not a full bottle, and definitely not thick envelopes that bled green. If I/we ever got offered cash or more than a sample (which sometimes they offer a sample and send you a bottle of something you really don’t want in the least, which I promptly give away — why can nobody ever offer freebies of stuff I really, really want? I selfishly digress), you guys will hear it first because we’ll come write about it because it’s a blog post that writes itself and would be monumentally entertaining.
But the bottom line on this — this is a private blog, written by private individuals who have very different ideas about what perfumes they like and don’t like. We don’t always agree, and we often question each other’s taste (not just on this blog, but looking over at our neighbor’s blog while they’re huffing that nasty Bleu Cheese perfume), but nobody I know is getting any payola or even the offer. I mean, if that were the case, there would be about 7,000 perfume blogs up right now. Think about it. What interests me more right now is who started this and why? To tar perfume bloggers’ opinions? Odd. Anyway, we may sometimes have crap opinions, but they are our honest, unpaid for crap opinions.
And I’ve got another bone to pick, Bond seems to send samples to most of the other bloggers, and we never get any samples from Bond or Creed or L’Artisan or any of those guys. Do they hate us? Well, screeeeew you, we don’t need your stinkin’ samples! 🙂 I have a plane to catch. *flounces off in a snit*
We now return you to your regularly scheduled Fourplay post
This week March is gone….. (tears and jealousy all mixed up into one psychotic bundle)…. but we shall endeavor to review our two scents. This week we have Guerlain Metalys, formerly known as Metallica until the band got its knickers in a twist and made them change their name. We also have Annick Goutal Sables.
Where we answer the question: would Metallica wear Metalys?
Notes of carnation, ylang-ylang, orange blossom, rose, iris, tonka bean, vanilla, amber
Patty: This is probably one of my favorite Guerlains. Soft, but hot, a gorgeous blend with the ultra-beautiful ylang-ylang, spiced up with carnation. As much as I pay attention to Guerlains, there are very few that I actually wear, but mostly admire. This one I can wear any time, anywhere, it’s just a stunner.
Lee: Come ‘ere, you sparkling floral fizzer with the sexy oriental drydown, and stop backcombing your hair. You know you’re more soul than metal. Get your groove on, baby, cuz we’ve got some sweet sweet love to make.
Sables, or can you really wear syrup as a perfume?
Notes of immortelle flowers, cinnamon, sandalwood, vanilla, pepper
Lee: Immortelle, I love the smell, but in a scent, it’s more death knell. You see, like a day in fast forward – eating maple syrup pancakes with your breakfast meeting handshakes, wolfing dopiaza curry in a ‘reflux-later’ hurry, burning unnecessary tyre rubber whilst you unendingly blubber over some obscure sad song that goes on perhaps too long, ending with disappointing hubba hubba like a Speedy Gonzalez bedroom lover – it’s too much, too quick. Call me idiosyncratic, but I’d rather give my mwah! to dear Dior’s Eau Noire. Sables may be formidable, but the Noire’s incomparable. Even though I just did compare it. Oh well, I needed to end this nonsense somewhere…
March: (Insert more crickets and a weird Haiku that mentions pancakes and armpits.)
Patty: Syrup and tar, sprinkled with lots and lots of black pepper. A total freak of a scent that somehow remains lovable. How? I don’t know, the tarry pepper keeps it from being too sweet until the sweet just leaves more cinnamon than syrup, and then it just makes my toes curl in revulsion and love. Cuddly, like a big old stinky dragon that lets you scritch it on the nose. The next day it smells like maple donuts…. hmmmm….. doooooonuts. I haven’t had a donut in like two years? So odd, one day the boys just outgrew them (the donuts, not the Sables), quit asking for them, and I haven’t bought one since. Well, no need to now, I’ve got it on my hand — apparently permanently.