I’m recovering from last night’s sugary festivities. Let me put down my Snickers bar and tell you about a local event I went to recently featuring Ron Robinson of Apothia doing a hands-on presentation of his candles, which won the Fragrance Foundation´s 2006 Interior Scent of the Year.

I´m just dipping my nose into the wide world of scented candles, and I probably won´t go too much further. My reality is, with four kids and a certain amount of home-grown chaos, setting small, controlled fires around our house (no matter how delish they smell) is a bad idea. But Ron´s a fun guy, a delight to talk to, and I really enjoyed learning more about his candles and about the approach behind his store, which I would kill to have here in D.C.

The candle collection is designed to represent various aspects of L.A. life. My visits to the Left Coast have been pretty limited, and I´ve never been to L.A., although I figure it´s only a matter of time, and I´ll probably take a girl or two along. In the meantime, I thought the candles were a wonderful intro. I´m going to crib from the literature Ron gave me: the candles are made with “a unique, luxurious combination of soy and paraffin” with the “texture of solid perfume – rub it into your skin!” That sounds ridiculous, but it´s true – I loved how creamy the candles were (they´re in jars), they smell amazing even when they´re not burning, and you can literally run your finger across the top like a solid perfume, or dip your finger in the molten wax (it didn´t burn me) and put the fragrance on your skin.

I really appreciated the aesthetic; it seems to me that any well thought out candle line — and I´ve sniffed a few — has its own distinct feel. I can´t speak to their capturing the L.A. vibe, but the Apothia candles were interesting for their smooth, unusual combination of notes that create a targeted ambience. My favorites of the 10 candles:

Wave – “morning at the beach house. Sun, sparkle and pure salt air.” Grapefruit, mandarin, yuzu, driftwood and seagrass. A smell that´s outdoorsy but also sophisticated. Woods/citrus, not sweet, the driftwood/seagrass dynamic suggesting salty ocean air rather than a Glade room spray.

Scene – “glittering lights, electric nights … anything can happen.” Fig, peppery juniper berry and ripe pear. I don´t know about the scene part, but it´s a neat trick – he had me with the fig, but the rest of the notes create a balance between sweet and sharp.

Plush – “full service, crisp linens, deep baths, sleeping in.” Fresh milled soap, petitgrain, mandarin, lime. This gets rave reviews from me for smelling like a warm, inviting bedroom while neatly avoiding the overdone clean laundry/soap concept. Your room in an expensive spa should smell like this.

Bronzed – “groves of gold, bronzed bodies, a sun-kissed day in the City of Angels.” Orange flower, petitgrain, bergamot and jasmine. I smiled when I smelled this – it´s the beach, sand, and bods glistening with Bain de Soleil. It´s not me, but it´s a great smell.

Chrismukkah – “Christmas. Chanukkah. Kwanzaa. Friends. Family. Love. It´s all good.” Green fir, clove and crisp ocean air. Okay, the name makes me wince a little, but this is a welcome twist to the ubiquitous holiday candle – it´s a holiday at the beach, and the “crisp ocean air” smells … well, airy, and again, not like some nasty “fresh air” spray scent.

Casa – this was Ron´s suggestion for a general home fragrance (hence the name) that doesn´t, for instance, clash with food if you´re burning it in the main part of the house during a dinner party. Notes are Casablanca lilies, newly cut grass, fresh air. It didn´t win my heart, because Casablanca lilies probably never will, but you lily fans should take note. Again, an airy (no pun intended) take on a bouquet of lilies in your Neutra house with a fabulous view – that´s my fantasy, anyway. Present but not cloying.

So, after all that, what did I choose?

Velvet Rope – of course. I´ve loved Velvet Rope (the fragrance) from the first time I smelled it, but it probably smells better on anyone else on the planet than it does on me, a source of mild internal strife on my part. It doesn´t smell bad on me – but I flatten it out somehow, and all the sparkly bits disappear. Unsurprisingly, Velvet Rope smells wonderful as a room fragrance – it was originally inspired by a visit to a bar and a vanilla martini. Notes: dry vanilla martini, jasmine absolute, a twist of grapefruit. I find the smell of Velvet Rope absolutely intoxicating, and it´s been scenting my bedroom since I brought it home. It´s an unusual smell, sweet and dry, vaguely foody, but not in a way that makes you hungry. The throw (ooooh, candle-geek talk!) is excellent, the smell lingers for hours after I put the candle out, and even unlit it scents the corner of the room where I sit and read. It´s definitely there, but seamless enough not to annoy the Big Cheese, who would totally complain if I burned something really strong in the fruit or woods department. I couldn´t be happier.

Thinking about the line and writing these descriptions, the concept I keep coming back to is balance – rather than smelling mostly of fig (or tea, or hinoki wood) each candle is done with no particular dominant note. They smell interesting, and expensive (more expensive than they are, frankly) and while they´re strong, they don´t bludgeon you. None of them made me wonder if I´d have to open a window or get sick of that particular smell after a week or two, which has prevented me from buying in the past. However you want to describe his style, it certainly works for me.

I think I paid $45 (more or less), they have a 60-hour burn time, and they´re available online at Apothia and elsewhere. It´s my first grown-up candle, a milestone, and I couldn´t be happier.

Velvet Rope candle image: www.ronrobinsoninc.com

March

Lavender and licorice. Whilst these two alliterative notes may not exactly plunge all and sundry into scented horror, they’re unlikely to top the list of favourites for any but a handful of weirdos (and I mean that as a compliment, I guess). I know quite a few scentaholics who dislike either or both of these notes, but can’t think of anyone who appears to rave about them in the same way as say a dirty musk, smoky leather or vetiver. Lavender has unfortunately been tied up with the herbalised healthcare world – those pillows you heat in the microwave to comfort you, the bath oils to relax and destress you after an apparently long day (we’re all supposed to be stressed and need a bath or glass of wine to unwind,aren’t we?) – or as a masculine barbershoppy note in any-ole-fougeres. And licorice – well the fact that it has laxative qualities may be the least of its worries. It’s a polariser note, like its smell relative aniseed, and where it does appear, it’s often sweetened to tone down its bitter qualities. It’s there of course in the *interesting* Blue Sugar, and Lolita Lempicka. But I can’t think of many other places in which I’ve smelled it, so if you can tell me a few, I’d be pleased.

I don’t have any such associations with either note, fortunately. Lavender makes me think of that world in the photo on the left – the heat of summer, the thrum of bees collecting, a world of burnt greens and impossible mauves. Licorice takes me back to childhood. I was addicted to Licorice Allsorts, especially the round chewy ones with the blue or pink speckly coatings (do y’all know what I’m yabbering about?). Licorice is naturally pretty sweet – I’ve chewed the root enough to know that – and yes, I do have a high-fibre diet thank you very much – but we tend to sweeten it even more as a foodstuff. Not so the Dutch and the Scandinavians I think, who tend to make salty little cough candies from it, chewable as biltong, and just as savoury. They’re an acquired taste, but it’s one I found easy to get…

With the unusual character of these two ‘notes’ in mind, I made a trip to London especially to smell Un Brin de Reglisse, the latest in the Hermessence series, only available at Hermes stores. Fortunately, the haughty sales assistant (Hermes staff have hauteur down to a T) deigned to give grubby little me a sample to take away, to test at length. I wonder if she used anti-bacterial hand gel after our encounter.
Jean Claude Ellena, the Hermes nose, co-founder of the Different Company, Patty’s additional love interest, and all round scent genius, has his own signature style. He has the ability to make a whole heap of scent ingredients smell like a handful at most, and is therefore often regarded as the expert of minimalist style. However, I think it’s important to remember he also made Ambre Narguile (pretty maximalist by anybody’s standards, even if it is sheer at the same time), the intensely animalic Rose Poivree (dirty devil…), and Cartier Declaration, a sparkling but still rich update of Roudnitska’s Eau d’Hermes. Therefore, though his most recent scents may have been about sparse form rather than flourishes and curlicues, I was intrigued to see where the listed notes of lavender, licorice, orange and hay would fit into his canon.
This fragrance starts with a simulacrum of lavender. It’s lavender with all its impurities stripped out, a multiplicity of notes pretending to be a unity, leading me to think this is the best smelling lavender I’ve ever come across. It’s exceptionally real and a fiction at the same time and perhaps because of that paradox, disappears in on itself pretty quickly. It’s gone on my skin in five minutes. What overlaps with it, and then goes onto replace it, is the licorice. This starts bitter and more in the vein of those Dutch sore throat candies than my own licorice allsorts. But once again, this is a brief play of notes, and isn’t allowed to reach a stable presence for too long. Like in many of the Hermessences, this scent strikes me as a series of diaphanous veils, one lifted or completely removed to reveal more fully the next transparent layer. And so on. The ensuing juxtaposition is between licorice and orange – not a full blooded zesty aroma, but a toned down, creamy version of this soft citrus, more like a body soap than an acidic drink.

And from this stage on, as far as I can tell, the perfume softens and softens and starts to play quite differently to Ellena’s recent work. The licorice slowly fades – perhaps a touch clings on – as does the orange, and what seems left is in fact another nod to Eau d’Hermes. On my skin, the latter dries down to a thick quality where the leathery notes merge with soft, near powdery, impenetrable layers of something… vanilla? Benzoin? Musk? Tonka? Fumerie Turque and Musc Ravageur also have this structure, and whilst I love it sometimes, at others it has a quality of suffocation, of unnecessary warmth. I’m surprised to find this aspect in Un Brin de Reglisse, and keep wondering if there’s something else on my skin or my sweater that’s muddling itself with the fragrance and whether the Hermessence has actually disappeared completely. Because this thick drydown (don’t get me wrong – no sillage – this is close to the skin thickness), seems unlikely. The hay listed as one of the elements in this composition might contribute to this density – it strikes me as perhaps a coumarin and vanillin blend.

Ellena wants this fragrance to represent southern France in the heat of summer: the lavender is reassuringly that – a cooling blast of scent from a burnished world. But the rest of the perfume is the heat itself, and for me, in late October, and ready as I am for the journey into winter, it seems to stifle peculiarly.

Happy Hallowe’en everyone!

Lee

Since I’ll be just arriving in Paris and barely getting around, I decided to dig up an old post from February 2006. The number of readers we have has increased greatly over the last almost two years, so it may be not new to some of you, but should be new to most of you.  It cracked me up to look at the 8 comments (four of them mine) on that post.

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Some smells in life you remember vividly and others are the stuff of legend and exist only with a story and a very sharp memory, but no smell at all except what you want it to be.

Every summer, as loyal head, heart, health, hands 4-H members, me, Shirley, Tom, Dick and Harry awaited the Sheridan County Free Fair. That magical week when we loaded up the pigs, steers, chickens, vegetables, baked goods and tea towels sewn by 8-year-old hands and took them to town, slapped an entry tag on them for judging and waited for that sweet, sweet prize money check to come in the mail. Pigs and steers were our main bank for the year. After judging, they went to auction, and we got the money they sold for. Even white-ribbon hogs would net over $100, sometimes 200 or 300; steers would go for closer to $1,000. Our job was to look adorable when we paraded them through the auction ring, smiling into the crowd, doing a rigged trip here and there to get an “aw” and a higher bid. It was never entirely clear what was being sold here, though it appeared to be a popularity contest to see which dad was spending the most money at the elevator or borrowed the most from the bank (these were the normal bidders). Of course that wasn’t us, but what we lacked in cash and buying power, we made up for in charm.

This story isn´t about that. What came with the fair was the far-from-free carnival. Hoxie, Kansas was a really small town, and we got a really small carnival. But no matter how small the carnvial, with it cam the rides put together with electrical tape, the games of chance you couldn´t win and the Carnies. Carneis just scared me a little, except that one swarthy teenage boy that just looked dangerous and hot as hell in his tight jeans, greased back hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

My dad loved the Carnies – he loved the Gypsies too, but that´s a different story. Carnival time was the one time wen he could fleece people without moral reservation. Normally he had to check himself when he played poker because he didn´t want his friends and neighbors exiling him from the  Poker Reindeer Games. Now, it seems a little ood that Dad never felt that same restraint when he schooled us in poker – taking more of my pig money than I care to talk about, until I finally realized I couldn´t win.  He was too good and playing angles I didn´t even know existed - poker was his game.

But the Carnies didn´t know that … at least not at first. So as we took our pigs and steers out for judging and dutifully modeled that A-line shift with the bad seams and unfinished edges in the style show, he was over playing poker, drinking whiskey and taking money from the carnies. My mother, of course, hated it.

This story isn´t about that either. Besides our hometown fair, there was the Wakeeney fair, which was the “big one” for us. More rides (and ones that weren´t put together with duct tape), car races, a thriving midway metropolis. We always traveled for one night to the Big Wakeeney Fair. This carnival had….

Rat Roulette

Just wrap your mind around that concept for a second while I explain what it looks like. If you´ve ever seen a Roulette wheel, then you´ve seen The Rat – just think bigger holes. The wheel was spun, and they released the rat from the middle. Around the rat ran until the wheel slowed down,  and he would finally pick a black or red or white hole, each numbered, and dive into it. Whoever had their bet on that hole won. I´m still not sure how this game managed to avoid Police involvement in Bible Belt Kansas - it was just gambling, pure and simple, though with an added rodent spin.

Daddy would get his one night at the Wakeeney Carnival too, and that night was spent with The Rat. He only had one night because they would never let him play again that year, and he had to wait until the next year with new Carnies who didn´t know him. More than once, they made him leave midway through the night because they were out of money. Nobody ever really knew, and my Dad never told, exactly how he knew where the Rat would go, but he knew with a freakish certainty. He told my Mom it was one color of hole they always went in, but given how many holes there were available, that really doesn´t account for it, but it did eliminate a good number of the holes. He also said he knew which direction the rat would run once it came out. Being an expert on Rat turning behavior doesn´t explain it either, though I’m thinking that’s a seriously mad skill every woman should have when she’s in her very active dating/nightclub years. Having seen the Rat run lots of nights, I can say I saw no pattern – it would sometimes dive for a hole quick and sometimes meander around for quite a while.  

So every year my dad would come home with Rat Money, hundreds of dollars of it, and give it to my Mom.  My Mom hated it. She hated the smell, said she hated spending it because it just reeked of rat. But spend it she did, still complaining, but without one bit of embarrassment, because we needed it for new school clothes.

Rat Money Smell is what sin and whiskey and forbidden sex smells like. It´s the shady side of life, the smoky biker bar full of bad men that look irresistible, the dark rivers of life that nobody really talks about too much because it is fun, and we all go there from time to time and hope we don´t get caught up in the Rat Money current and forget to swim out and find our way home.

I don´t remember what the Rat Money really smelled like, but it´s my phrase for every smell that I identify with that something that makes you wriggle up up your nose and look the other way while casting furtive backward glances trying to figure out what it is and if it´s as much fun as it looks and whether anyone will catch you sniffing ’round it. Amber is that smell for me. Whether it´s in Laura Tonatto Amir, Hermes Ambre Narguile (aka The Nazgul) or Parfum D´Empire Ambre Russe, it´s not the perfume itself, it´s that note that screeches “forbidden, you slut.”

Every life needs a little Rat Money smell. It is mixed in with the sweetness, the passion, the sorrow, the loss and regret. It meanders through all of our lives like cigarette smoke, clinging sometimes to what we wear, but never to who we are. My daddy understood that. He played in the Rat Money World, but he never became part of it – instead he brought his Rat Money home to his wife and children so we could have a microwave or a new tv, a luxury we couldn´t otherwise afford. (Dante’s Inferno by Rodin)

I think that´s why I always keep amber perfumes around. Sometimes I open up a drawer and I smell it, and I think, ah, Rat Money, and I remember my dad and all the lessons he taught us about life - the love, the fun, the loss, and the honor.

What’s your rat money smell?

Patty

I´m still working on my fig testing for the next installment of Figmania! I am really disappointed not to be able to include the several (five?) Ava-Luxe fig scents, a couple of which were highly recommended. She´s taking a break (I pray not a permanent one) from perfumery, and is there anything like knowing you can´t have something to make you want it desperately? I wanted to try her Honey too, since I´ve been craving honey and people feel so strongly about it (love it/hate it).

Also, I got a little behind last week with the multiple posts; I think I´ve responded to everyone´s comments now, and thanks for your patience.

So, today´s post. What´s the deciding factor in whether I blog on a fragrance? Often it´s something that sticks out a little, something unexpected that grabs my attention. Here are two decidedly different takes on “sexy.”

Escada Collection – sweetlife sent me a sample (thanks!) to go in my honey post. I didn´t even know it existed; the most common set of notes I see listed is: mandarin, cola, jasmine, tuberose, sandalwood, tonka. I thought it was special enough to highlight it further. It smells sort of like honey. Or, like Vanilla Coke. Or a Coke float (made with vanilla ice cream.) It smells like tonka. Maybe a little soft woods and vanilla? With maybe some alcohol poured over the top? Or: cherry tobacco. Really, take your pick. What it doesn´t smell like is a big fat tuberose/jasmine bouquet. It´s creamy, gourmand rather than floral, but not really edible.

It´s in the vanilla/comfort scent category, and you people who are into vanilla/gourmand stuff seriously need to check it out. I´m fascinated by it. It´s a WYSIWYG scent – it´s one straight smell, and you either like it or you don´t. I´m not even that into this type of scent – I can really hate me some artificial vanillin-type-deal. But we´re not talking cake batter here; it´s actually sort of … weird, in a really friendly, cuddly way. I think it´s the cola-tonka combo, which suggests vanilla tobacco, spices and bootleg hootch all together, rather than a cupcake. The humorous part: I had a few dabs on the back of one hand, and during my errand running I had three different men tell me how delicious I smelled, one in a particularly friendly way. Which demonstrates: a) maybe this is stronger than I realized; b) the back of the hand is a great location for fragrance, since (unlike my neck) my hands tend to be more up in people´s faces; c) it is true that men think vanilla is sexy.

There are 104 reviews of Escada Collection on MakeupAlley (with high overall and re-buy ratings), so I guess maybe I am the last person to know about it. It´s the 1997/98 version and has apparently been discontinued; do the later versions in different LE bottles smell differently? (This is the one on the purple card). Someone chime in here and set me straight.

Versace Crystal Noir – notes I see most frequently are: gardenia, amber, orange blossom, peony, sandalwood, and musk, created for Donatella Versace, gardenia being allegedly her favorite flower. An SA who knows what I like chased me around with the tester; I’m glad she did, because I’m not sure when (or if) I’d have smelled it on my own. It´s essentially a truckload of amber with some peppered gardenia and a hint of woods. It´s strong, as you´d expect; I dab. If Escada Collection is subtly sexy, this is, uh, more direct — fragrance-wise, it´s saying, (in Italian) lay me down and take me right here, in front of the roaring fireplace!! Its lack of subtlety – the brazen, almost RuPaul obviousness of its proposition – is both humorous and part of its charm. So yes, I expected it to be “sexxxy.” I just didn´t expect it to be quite so wearable. It´s comforting, and I am not Your Queen of Amber. It´s as rich and satisfying as a glass of barolo after that liaison in front of the fireplace, and yet I´m perfectly capable of wearing it to Trader Joe´s, although I doubt that´s what Donatella had in mind.

image: RuPaul (reminding me a bit of Donatella), thebudgetfasionista.com

March

It’s that time of year again — when your friends at the Posse (along with several other blogs) name our Top Ten Scents of Autumn.

These can be old or new scents — whatever’s getting our special attention this time of year.

We figured we’d divide up the booty and give Patty, March, Lee and Bryan each four slots … that adds up to ten, right?

Patty – My list are the four things that I find myself wearing a lot this year, not the fall/winter scents that I think are the best of all time, just for this year. Top on the list that I’m doting on are two from Guerlain – Quend Vient La Pluie parfum and Spirituese Double Vanille. La Pluie is just plush and rich, sweeter than the edp, and perfect. Double Vanille is smoky and dry with that Guerlain vanilla base. I shouldn’t love it, but I do. Fifi Chachnil in EDP makes my list too. It’s perfect for this part of the winter, dramatic, nothing understated, and beautiful. Last, but not least, Serge Lutens Sarrasins. While there’s nothing groundbreaking about this jasmine, the composition of it suits me to a T. It’s not too fecal, not too sweet, it falls right in the perfect middle. P.S. everyone needs to root for the Rockies to win the World Series. If they win, I’ll be in such a great mood and will have awesome giveaways when I get back from Paris. If they lose…. well, let’s just don’t think about that.

March – well, I screwed up. I was supposed to tell everyone three scents each, but it’s too late now, isn’t it? This fall (and every fall) I’m focusing on the three C’s. First: classic — time to break out the Guerlain Mitsouko, baby! Who doesn’t love that cornucopia of chic, all oriental and aloof and mysterious? Well, lots of people don’t. But they should. The EdP is good; the extrait is mind-altering. Second, a comfort scent — I have a million of those, but if the weather ever cools off I’m ready for the tasty, smoky lapsang goodness that is L’Artisan Tea for Two. Finally, there’s cult — the weirdness I can’t deal with in the heat, but feels so right in cooler weather. Again, I have many choices, but I picked up my bottle of Versace The Dreamer the other day and remembered that fantabulous unisex combo of tobacco, tootsie rolls and turpentine (and I believe I owe Robin at Now Smell This a shout-out for the tootsie-roll reference.) It’s freaky, and yet totally wearable and mesmerizing. I almost put this as my comfort scent.

Lee – When I did my spiel about man scents the other day, I forgot my first fall favourite: Burberry London – the 2006 version. If you’re one of the few people who doesn’t love this scent, what the heckypeck is wrong with you? And it lasts too, in spite of what some may say. It’s the smell of a lithe young waiter in an old fashioned gentleman’s club – he’s been standing by the fire, serving port. The smells of tobacco – not tobacco smoke – seem to have been trapped in his hair, and he catches your eye, beckoning you towards the empty library. You follow him, of course. You know serving port isn’t on his mind.. You open the heavy double doors and he’s lying on a worn chaise longue, those chocolate eyes mischievous beneath heavy lashes… Next up should be a cold shower, but I’m going with Penhaligon’s Endymion. I never wear it, but can I tell you again how incredible it smells on Matt? Pure cold weather delight. Third, and unsurprisingly, is recent acquisition Fougere Bengale – this chameleonic number is perfect for the October days we’re having – chill frosty starts followed by almost summer sunshine. I still haven’t worked it out, but am enjoying the journey. And my final pick is a scent of which I have nary a drop – and I’m trying to delay bottle purchase. I know I’ll succumb. Back in January, I said this, right here, on this blog: ‘This has notes of cognac, leather, orris and vetiver, a deliciously rich combination… It´s very much a reading by the fire sort of smell – in an old fashioned sepia world where everything is a shade of brown and the flames flicker caramel colours in the glass of brandy warming in your hand. In fact, this combination of notes smells most like rich pipe tobacco and for that reason alone this brings me comfort.’ Bois d’Ombrie. I’m in London in the next coupla days…. just sayin’. I wonder if I can track down a gentlemen’s club with lithe young waiters…

Bryan – I will exclude Carnal Flower only because I included it for the Summer faves. Truth be told, and I’m sure everyone is just plain sick of “hearing” about it, I wear CF year round. ’nuff said. My first Fall love is Ambre Narguile by the esteemed House of Hermes. This is Mr. Ellena’s amber opus and it is divine. I can’t believe that this so-called water color of a scent wafts fabulously throughout the halls I have wandered, hours after application. Truly a scrumptious scent…without being noxious. Perhaps I am choosing the next scent because I haven’t reached for it of late…meaning I plan to this fall. Une Fleur de Cassie is a remarkably chic perfume that simply exudes class and refinement. I just feel like I should be a guest on Dirty Sexy Money when I wear it….granted that’s a recent insight….guess what I’m hooked on. Next, I plan on spritzing a large amount of Coromandel by Chanel Les Exclusifs. I absolutely love the gourmand quality of the patchouli here….not overly “woodsy” nor “hippy”. Two words I truly despise. This is a scent that lives up to its brand….unlike so many sad and forgetable scents…Escada I’m looking at you. Finally, I have a new love…and yes it’s a big bad Tuberose…..Beyond Love By Kilian. I ordered a decant and the full bottle within hours of each other. There was one bottle left and it had my name on it! This is a dirty Tuberose and I plan to need a refill by Halloween…ok, that’s pushing it a little bit, but I been known to overspray.

Check out the Top 10 posts on our fellow fragrance blogs: Aromascope, Bois de Jasmin, Now Smell This, Perfume-Smellin’ Things, and Scentzilla.

March