It is Hottie Friday, and it’s time to remind everyone that Christian Bale is simply the most gorgeous thing intheworldperiod.

And speaking of obsessions, and because I’m always thinking about you guys, and my obsession is your obsession, plus we can feed the world with this trifling obsession, just head over to Feed Rice, indulge your word knowledge and feed the world some rice. I’ve spent far too much time on there today and need to pass it along because now I feel singularly responsible for starving children when I can’t ferret out the meaning of tussock without heading to dictionary.com which –I would never do because that’s cheating.

Hey, did you know that Basenotes is doing their 8th annual Fragrance Awards? Well, sure, you know that. But did you know that they have a category for Best Fragrance Blog? Now, there are some truly wonderful fragrance blogs out there, but being the shameless, pandering, popinjays we are (thankyou, feedrice, for reminding me of all the best words I forgot I had!), we want to extirpate the competition — well, that’s a little strong, but we’d really like to win this year. So head on over and vote? There’s something in it for you too, a Basenotes drawing for a nice prize from Fragrancenet.com. And if we win…. well, there will be much merry-making, frivolity and sample giving away. So this is our time to importune you to shag your fingers over and vote, vote, vote! And do I need to add that one vote should be for us as Best Perfume Blog? I know, we really are shameless, and I almost feel bad about it, except if we don’t win, March and Lee will weep like puppies kittens baby lambs clubbed baby seals — oops, not pc — newborn owls.

Speaking of gorgeous obsessions, the winners of the Iris Gris and Candide Effluve samples are — Teri and Cathy/bluechile. Just click on the Contact Us button over there to the left, send me your full name and address, and I’ll shoot you off the samples.

As I’m dwelling on my own obsessions, it occurs to me that my trip this weekend could be Exhibit A. So while I head off to an overnight visit to Portland based on this post from Perfume Smellin’ Things, I’m thinking obsession, what obsession? This is an opportunity to smell some things that sound pretty special… snow rose? Come to mama! We’ll have a drawing for a sample of all of the ones that I bring back. If I bring back nothing… well, yeah, right. So just make a comment to get in the drawing!

If you haven’t already, go read that Perfume House article and tell me which two do you think would be your favorites? And what is your latest obsessions, perfume or nonperfume?

P.S. Anyone living IN London and able to run a quick little errand for me, let me know!

In my fragrance journeys I’ve had a chance to consider and reconsider my relationship with all sorts of individual notes in perfume. My carefully constructed belief system regarding vanilla as a dominant note is: no thanks. Vanilla people are different from you and me (well, me, anyway). Vanilla people swoon over the lower circles of gourmand hell in Sephora, spraying each other with those Maison de la Vanille and/or Lavanila scents and moaning with pleasure. I disapprove. If you’re going to be into fragrance, man up already. Get yourself a decant of some fragrance that, if you spilled it on your floor, you’d have to tear the house down.

My idiotic view of vanilla is triggered by two things:

1) I love desserts. I bake, and there are few dessert recipes that are not improved by some good-quality vanilla. Unless you have a pie-baking granny or aunt Ethel, I bake the best sweet potato pie you will ever taste. But I want to eat my dessert vanilla, not wear it.

2) Most vanilla-driven scents seem not only too sweeeeet but sort of plasticky – it’s one of those notes that can carry a whiff of overheated hair dryer on my skin.

In general, then, if a fragrance has vanilla as part of its title in any language, and/or it’s supposed to be all about the vanilla, I avoid it. Well, except for…

Guerlain Spiritueuse Double Vanille, which was the start of the transformation. Yeah, there’s that V-word in the title, and Guerlain has a lot of vanilla in their scents anyway, often buried under something else (preferably something nasty). I’m a Guerlain lover but I’ve been mad at the house for awhile, none of L’art et la Matiere having done a thing for me until I was seduced by Iris Ganache, and I knew I’d try Double Vanille eventually.

As everyone has already blogged, Spiritueuse Double Vanille is stunning. One of the most frequent comments I read about it goes something like, I don’t really like vanilla, but… which prompts my question: how do you avowed vanilla-lovers feel about this? Is this a vanilla only for vanilla-haters? Spiritueuse is vanilla, benzoin, frankincense, spices, cedar, pink pepper, bergamot, Bulgarian rose and ylang-ylang. The key to its success is its wisp of smoke – like you wore vanilla to the bonfire – and a hit of something boozy, not in a nasty mulled-wine way, more like a seriously spiked whisky eggnog. The result is a very sophisticated, adult vanilla, not remotely foody. It’s heaven. My only complaint is the smokiness fades sooner than I’d like, so I’m doing what a bunch of you are already doing and layering it with CB I Hate Perfume Burning Leaves.

Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale is another key to my conversion. For reasons I’m still not clear on, the first three or four tries I got a nice vanilla. I kept trying, and eventually I got the delicious spicefest (notes are citrus, pepper, nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla) that the rest of you are getting. It’s more linear, less expensive-smelling, stronger and more gourmand than the Guerlain, but it’s spicy enough to retain interest and not especially foody. It too layers nicely with Burning Leaves.

Having fallen in love with the vanilla/smoke combo, I rooted around in the sample drawers to see what else I might play with. Unsurprisingly, I don’t own a lot of vanilla scents, even in samples. But I can attest that layering Burning Leaves with Lolita Lempicka L (that’s the immortelle/vanilla one in the little mermaid bottle, not the anise one) is a great combo. I like L a lot, but the immortelle fades away too quickly and then that vanilla base sticks around like a drunk at a party. I can’t keep reapplying because eventually L would kill me. Throwing Burning Leaves on top gives me something interesting to sniff.

I also dug up Indult Tihota, which I think a lot of you vanilla freaks really like. The notes are vanilla and musk, and I know it’s done by Francis Kurkdjian, and the musk helps, but apparently I wouldn’t wear it if you gave it to me, which Patty did months ago for a review, and I haven’t touched it since. It’s a really nicely done, rich vanilla scent that for me undergoes a vast improvement with some smoke on top.

After playing these smoky vanilla games with CB Burning Leaves, I ordered up a Humongous Mini of Demeter Bonfire. Bonfire’s nice – it really suffers only in direct arm-to-arm comparison with CB, so if you want to play the smoky vanilla game, you can buy a ½ oz mini for five bucks (or 1 oz. for $20, am I doing that math right? That seems …. wrong) vs. the CB Burning Leaves for $55 (although I note CB himself also has a 15ml of something called Bonfire absolute for $25, which I really should try….) … um, where was I? Demeter’s Bonfire starts off with a brief, sweet note I don’t like (must be the “maple” part of the maple-leaf bonfire) and its scent is a little more generic – vaguely Liquid Smoke, if you will, whereas Burning Leaves is more complex, with that heartbreaking drydown I’ve blogged on before, a drydown that is just a big ol’ leafpile, one of those signature smells of childhood for those of us lucky enough to have grown up with leaf piles (and I’m ancient enough to be able to remember when you could still burn your leaves.) In conclusion: if you’ve been looking for a way to liven up a vanilla scent and/or make it less sweet, vanilla and smoke is a pretty unbeatable combo.

What didn’t work out: using my vintage Kolnisch Juchten as the smoky part of the scent. I love KJ and its wacky smoked-sausage/leather cologne smell, but layered with vanilla I got a bratwurst and kraut served a la mode with Breyer’s Old Fashioned Vanilla, and please feel free to learn from my mistake and don’t try this.

Two more complex vanillas I tried recently which I really like:

First, Annick Goutal Vanille Exquise, which I am pretty sure is not universally loved, with words like “bitter” and “sour” popping up like mushrooms in negative reviews. Notes are: vanilla, angelica, almond, benzoin, gaiac, and musk. I like Vanille Exquise for two reasons. First, I like the AG line in general, and Vanille Exquise is very Annick – it has that signature aridity and a touch of vermouth-like bitterness. Second, for a vanilla, this is about as non-edible as you can get. Vanille Exquise elevates vanilla to a decorative quasi-floral, its job being to brighten the funky angelica note; the bezoin and gaiac give the fragrance a gloriously smoky, woody facet. If vanilla could be a dry cocktail, this is it.

Another excellent vanilla fragrance that turned up in my weird bottle swap was Lostmarc’h Lann-Ael, and Gail, I totally understand why you kept bringing this magical thing up and finally gave up and sent me some. Holy moley! Notes are cereals, milky notes, apple and vanilla. I admit to the fragrance sin of spending exactly zero time with this line, which is from Brittany, the names allegedly being Breton for various things, but they (sorry again!) strike me as a bit twee. Well, I’m a fool. They can call this fragrance Vanilla Spam and I’d still wear it. It’s not listed in the notes but – alert! alert! – this scent opens with a note that is very immortelle-ish. Not the Log Cabin in Hell immortelle note, mind you, but that intoxicating solar-pollen-pepper-hay-seaside-musk smell that makes me weak at the knees. There are no spice notes listed but I smell some in there; perhaps the “immortelle” is a trick combo of, say, fenugreek and the apple? BTW all you people who read “apple” and think ruh roh – I’m smelling sweet farina, sort of; there’s a spiced vanilla sweetness but no obvious fruit note at all that I can detect. My favorite part of this fragrance is the first 45 minutes with the spiced hot cereals, after which I either reapply to send myself skyward again, or give up and add some smoke. Either way, lovers of cereals, immortelle and/or vanilla might want to give this a sniff.

So, there you have it. While I haven’t exactly come around to the whole vanilla-cupcake fragrance concept, I’ve figured out how to add vanilla to my comfort-scent lineup.

Your turn. Given what I like, are there other nonfoody vanillas I should try? Other than PdN Vanille Tonka, which I would rather stab my hand with a fork than ever smell again? Don’t be shy, I’m not judgmental. Also, are there other related two-note combos I should consider? Vanilla-leather I didn’t really love. Also, how else can I play with the smoke? Smoke and jasmine was okay but not as fabulous as I thought it might be, but then again I like my jasmine in the summer. Have any of you parsed the finer points of the various smoke options CB has? (Demeter’s Holy Smoke is an excellent scent, but it’s more the inside of a stone church with incense). Finally, Elle – if I’ve embraced even this small corner of the world of vanilla, will you ever speak to me again?

burning leaves: intricateart.com

Those of you that already decant wildly for your friends or do bottle splits, etc., you get the day off today, or you can just add your own favorite suppliers and tips in the comments.  Robin alredy has a great How to Decant article, and I’ll wind up repeating some of it, but I hope some of it is new and useful.

What you need in general

1. Containers - at least 1 ml size vials and 5 ml size bottles. You can do different sizes, but these are the ones most common for swapping.  If you are doing bottle splits, most splits have at least 10-15 ml minimums, so you would need those size bottles to do splits.
2. If you are a klutz or nervous or both, you’ll want funnels and bulb syringes and a Xanax, though the bulb syringes are of minimal use for most perfumes because they are sprays where you cannot remove the sprayer. Xanax is helpful all the time for most stress life hands you.
3. Electrical tape.
4. Labeler and labels.

The biggest single problem in decanting supplies is that you need to order a good number of bottles/vials at one time or suppliers will kill you on shipping and/or price. So if you’re ordering just a few, be prepared to pay for it. But if you only need a few, paying for a quantity that you can’t use or don’t need is ridiculous.  It’s far cheaper to buy a few if you know you won’t use up a lot of them than to buy cases that you will never use.

Favorite suppliers

• Madinaonline.com for sample vials. You’ll get killed on postage if you only order 100, but if you know you’ll decant enough over the next many years to justify a tray for $80 or so, that’s your best bet.   In defense of the suppliers, shipping glass gets expensive fast. Madina also has good 5 ml glass roll-on bottles as well as splash bottles.  Best Bottles also has great bottles at a good price, and it looks like they’ve now got some 10 ml spray atomizers too.  I’m not crazy fond of those plastic atomizers either, but they can work well enough, just be careful of cloggage and spray some hot water through them if that happens.
• Plastic atomizers, I won’t use them for long-term storage and since I never know what will be long-term, I just don’t use them. If you think you want to keep that scent around for a while, transfer it to glass. If it’s a short little trial thing, plastic is fine.  Accessories for Fragrances has great plastic atomizers, funnels and amazing customer service. 
• Larger spray bottles, 15 ml and 30 ml, you can’t beat Scentworks. 
• Funnels and syringes, again, go back to Accessories for Fragrance, who has all of that sort of thing and has little decant kits, which is a great place to start for supplies for your first decanting experience.

As you start pricing things, you’ll get some idea of how expensive this decanting thing is. Anyone who does/has done a lot of decanting or bottle splits will tell you how labor intensive it is and how much supplies will wind up running you, not to mention overspray loss from a bottle.  So if you are thinking of doing bottle splits, factor in about 5-10 ml or more (some bottle sprayers are horrible for overspray and will have higher loss) per bottle loss of juice. There is nothing worse than doing a bottle split, and you get down to what’s left for you, and you don’t have enough juice to fill your own part of the split.  Factor in potential spillage, all the decanting supplies, shipping, etc.  As Robin said in her post, make sure you know what size the bottle is for sure.  I keep using the same ones over and over because once I’ve measured them, I don’t want to do it again.  For just swapping, this isn’t a big deal, but for bottle splits, it can become a big deal fast.

How to decant

• Labeling.  You want to get a label on the bottle/vial that won’t smudge, should stay on pretty well, and will stand the test of time.  Skimp somewhere else, but if you plan on doing any perfume sharing with friends, love them enough to provide them with a good label. This is Patty Pet Peeve territory, so just ignore the amount of peevish that permeates the post. A lot of people have samples/decants around for years, and there is nothing more frustrating than having a label you can’t read on a sample that you fall in love with. Anything missing a label or that is smudged, I throw away immediately. Who needs that heartbreak?  You can pick up a manual Brother labeler here for less than $30. It may be manual and take some time to make each label, but it is well worth it.  If you plan to be doing a lot of swapping and sharing, invest in one that connects to your computer so you can store labels, one of the desktop models, like this one for under $50.  You can get the label tape there as well, which runs about $10-15 per cartridge, which is far less than the $20 that OfficeMax charges.  The bonus, you’ll be thrilled having a little labeler around to label everything else with. Trust me, your labeler will wind up being one of your favorite ancillary tools that you never knew you needed.  So make the label and put it on the size container you are decanting.
• Filling the bottle.  This is where the nervous get more nervous. I recommend using some other spray bottle of something else you don’t care about to practice here, like water.  Not so many perfume bottles are splash. For those that are, then decanting is easy. Just get your little funnel, if you need it (not me, I go commando), put it on the bottle, hold carefully so it doesn’t tip over, dump in the perfume carefully, put the lid on the bottle/vial, and it’s ready to go. For sprayers, most of them won’t come off, so you have to spray from the perfume bottle into the vial or decant bottle.  For vials, you’ll have more problems with overspray than anything else, and I don’t recommend a funnel here, it will just make a mess.  Feel around on the vial for the open end, line it up with the the hole on the sprayer for the perfume bottle, and gently squeeze in enough perfume to fill it without overfilling, and then snap the cap on it.  As easy as that sounds, snapping that cap in firmly the first few times will give you a heart attack as you’re sure you will crush/snap the vial in two.  Just push, you have to, or it won’t go in.  I’ve snapped on hundreds of thousands of these, and I’ve had maybe five break over the last three years from just putting in the cap. For filling the bottle, this is the point where a funnel can be of some help to catch the overspray. If you don’t buy one, you can use some aluminum foil shaped as a funnel.  Just fill the bottle, then put on the lid/roll-on cap.
• Securing the bottle.  If you are sending several vials at a time, and if one of them happens to be something particularly raunchy, think about putting it in its own teeny zip-lock bag (available at Uline.com).  For decant bottles, make sure to take a bit of electrical tape and wrap it where the bottle cap meets the bottle. This will keep the cap on and prevent almost all of the jiggling that sometimes occurs in transit that can cause bottles to leak.
• Mailing. I use a padded envelope, which works well for sample vials and a few smaller decants. I’ve been using them for years to ship, and have had almost no breakage.

Hope this helps you all, and feel free to chime in with your own tips/tricks/suppliers/horror stories. The winner of the Iris Gris/Candide Effluve drawing will be announced on Friday.

Also, anyone living in Japan or going to Japan, I need you desperately to get something for me.  Drop a comment or click on the Conctact Us over there on the left if you can help me get a perfume only available there.

A couple of weeks ago I picked eight people as part of my weird bottle swap – my eight unloved bottles went to more deserving homes, and those folks were free to send me, well, whatever they wanted to, and I’d blog on it. (Each box also contained extra samples from my goody bag.) Here’s what I got back thus far. I’ll do another post later with Part II (packages arriving after this post).

I sent Matt a smallish bottle of Estee Lauder Pleasures Delight (he said he’d take whatever bottle nobody else wanted, and that was it.) For the record, it’s a pretty fragrance, it’s just not something I’m going to wear. I got back: an Elvis CD (“Aloha from Hawaii!”), several samples, tea, a yummy-smelling bar of ayurvedic soap, a pack of Post-Its, a postcard, and a fridge magnet with Andy Warhol’s pic that says “I am a deeply superficial person.” I loved the randomness of it — anyone who’ll send me tea and Post-Its is okay in my book. I also love that he gave the Estee to his mom. Regarding the sample he sent me of CB I Hate Perfumes’ new Fire From Heaven, an incense scent I have been anxious to try (notes are frankincense, myrrh, opopanax, cedar, sandalwood, styrax, labdanum) — it starts off medicinal, you get some peat, smoke, woods, and obviously incense. It’s nice – it smells like the base of a great fragrance, but it doesn’t seem …. finished somehow? I’m Christopher Brosius’ number-one fangirl, and I love incense (I’d actually bugged him about doing an incense frag when Patty and I met him in NYC last year), but I feel oddly let down by this thing. If you’d like to read CB’s thoughtful journal entry on what he was after (including his own struggle to come up with a fragrance he considered finished), click here.

I gave Louise a decant off the Floris Malmaison bottle (which got sent elsewhere) since she wanted to try it and it’s a pretty big bottle, along with some other samples, including the SMN Acqua di Cuba, and she gets honey sans manly essence, if you are wondering. I expected a couple samps/decants in return. I got back: a bottle of Montale Jasmin Full (heh heh! a gloriously skanky soliflore, a bottle of which will last me approximately forever) and a bottle of Versace Crystal Noir, both of which she knows I love. And a sample of Guerlain Spiritueuse off her decant. Oh, yeah, and samps of the new Roja Dove scents. I loved all of it, except the nagging guilt involved in publicly mentioning a score on this level, but I’ll make it up to her somehow, I promise. I’m aware there are readers of this blog who undoubtedly view Crystal Noir as beneath them, and, hey – more for me, baby! Now that I have the bottle in my possession, I’m happier than ever with its goofy, giant-sized purply-black plastic gemcap. It precisely and joyously meshes with my perception of Donatella Versace’s concept of classy, if you follow me. I plunked it between two bottles of Serge, and they’re resolutely refusing to acknowledge it.

I gave Sariah the bottle of Diptyque Eau d’Elide, she loves its herbal goodness. I got back: First by Van Cleef and Arpels, housed in a big, gorgeous, gold cocktail-shaker of a bottle that looks sort of like the refillable Guerlain sprays. (And I’m laughing that’s it’s labeled a “purse spray” – you would need a seriously large purse for that thing. How big do they make those Kelly bags?) This floral aldehyde manages to both embrace and transcend its 70s-era provenance (notes are: bergamot, mandarin, blackcurrant, aldehydes, jasmine, rose, ylang, hyacinth, vetiver, vanilla, amber, civet): it is glorious and aloof. Instead of the clean champagne-bubble aldehyde notes of Baghari and Le Labo 44, it’s got a faint smell of cigarettes, which I happen to love in this instance. First smells a little louche to me, like something Jerry Hall might have worn to Studio 54 back in the day. It makes No. 5 smell almost cuddly by comparison. I got a bunch o’ Demeter samps, which are always fun (hey, you’re right – Beetroot is wonderful, a great, earthy scent.) The other bottle was Le Labo Vetiver – an identical bottle of which I gave away recently, and regretted ever since. Le Labo Vetiver is on a short list of fragrances The Big Cheese would prefer I never wear, and so mostly I don’t. Vetiver as a dominant note I don’t care for. Vetiver Tonka, Encre Noir, Sel de Vetiver – no, no, and no. I’m not sure Le Labo even is proper vetiver (Lee says no, it’s incense, and at the end I’m inclined to agree). To me it’s the smell of a tumble in the mud with Mr. Wrong, followed by picking twigs out of your teeth and vows to renounce your evil ways and live a better, cleaner life. I love it. This time I’m keeping it.

I gave Catherine the S-Perfume 100% Love {MORE}. I got back: three beautiful, handmade bound paper journals, along with a note suggesting that I give two of them to my daughters, which … okay, how lovely a gesture is that? I’m really feeling a little overwhelmed by these goody boxes. Now I’m wanting to save them to open individually on crappy days so I can cheer myself up. That idea would work wonderfully if I had any self restraint, which, sadly, I don’t. I also got some great samples (including a set of the Givenchy reissues, whee!), and a sample of Malle Noir Epices, which thrills me because mine just ran out and now I can stave off buying more temporarily. (Notes of orange, rose, geranium, nutmeg, cinnamon, clove, pepper, patchouli, cedarwood, sandalwood.) It’s more elegant – like something by Guerlain – than the niche spicefest of, say, the original CdG. Noir Epices is not for the faint of heart (you geranium freaks – that note is huge on me in this thing), and I wouldn’t be throwing it on with abandon, either. It’s an odd combo of spicy and sort of sour. But if you’re a fan of spice notes, this is definitely one worth sampling.

I gave Gail a sample of the Diptyque Elide because she wanted to try it, along with a couple other things I owed her. I was expecting nothing in return. I got, out of the blue, her bottle of the original Donna Karan (that great robo-duck black and gold bottle) along with some most-welcome decants – Sushi, Te Nero, and my new BFF, Lostmarc’h Lann-Ael, which I had not tried and I’m wild for and now working into my separate vanilla post – which I know I keep mentioning and which, like Godot, never quite manages to show up. But it will, soon. I can never decide whether I like that Donna Karan, although I’ve always found it interesting. Spraying it on and writing this, it’s definitely growing on me. Apricot, ylang, apricot, cassia, rose, jasmine, Casablanca lilies (of course! I had no idea), sandalwood, patchouli, amber, suede. The opening I’m learning to understand better, and the suede-like drydown is killah.

I sent Rosarita the Prince Jardinier. Her package back was really touching. I got dressups for Hecate and Buckethead; a giant bag of Amish-made cashew crunch — it’s like peanut brittle, only leagues better– that I have hidden and am refusing to share, on the grounds that nobody here would appreciate it as much as I do; a jar of pear butter; an old-fashioned manual fruit/vegetable chopper with Rosarita’s family recipe for apple crisp, which I will most definitely be making; and a small bag for me with chic scarves (I am particularly fond of the large black-and-white check one) and costume jewelry (I have the flowers pinned to my mohair beret because – yes – I am the sort of person who wears berets without irony) and, most unbelievably, a very thin, beautiful pair of navy kidskin gloves that – you guessed it – fit me like a glove. Another great exchange.

I had absolutely no idea how this was going to go. I mean, I figured if I got rid of my unloved bottles and got back a few samps, it was a win-win situation. As a general comment to all the packages I’ve received, I’m interested in the fact that almost all the samples were things that are very much “me” – whether folks are sending me things they think I’d like, or things I’ve said I liked, really — they did a great job hitting the target. As you can imagine, I am pretty blown away by all the thought and care that went into these packages that came back to me, and the extraordinary generosity behind the fragrance gifts. I’ve been having a tough few weeks, to be honest – the Cheese is on an extended trip – and I’ve got my game face on, but still. I actually cried a little over this stuff and the good feelings that came with it. All of you – thanks.

$232 for a 50 ml bottle. No, this is not the same perfume snipe hunt that Lee took you on last week. That price is for one bottle of the By Kilians.  But!  Once you buy a bottle, you can get it refilled for $95, which is a veritable bargain these days.  yes, $200 is the new $100. Before we get started, let’s just make sure we all take a look at Kilian Hennessey. That’s him over there on the left.  Who doesn’t want to buy from that face?  Oh, y’all actually want to know what they smell like?  Oh, piffle.  Fine.  

But first! You do know it’s Black Friday and you all are supposed to be shopping, right?  Yeah, me neither. This is the time when the amateurs are out and I stay home. Everything is over the internet or phone right now.  Buying for Harry was easy, he wanted an electric violin. Yeah, exactly what I said. An electric violin?  Why?  And why not acoustic?  Harry:  Because I always wanted to play violin, but need it plug it in to make it howl, mom.”  Huh.  He was inspired by that group of boys on America’s Next Great Band that plays only strings, The Clark Brothers – fiddles, steel guitar, etc — and they truly make the electric violin howl mournfully.   Alex has not told me what he wants for Christmas. I suspect some combination of money/money. I know I sometimes talk about things Harry does/says more than Alex. Not because Alex is less interesting, but because Harry has become the quirkier of the two. That wasn’t always so. I spent about four years conversing endlessly about Alex during his teenage years. Then he did the strangest thing and has become, well, normal and grown-up.  We still have great conversations, and he’s so bright and interesting, but our conversations can’t be summed up in sound bites for blog posts.  Harry, on the other hand, is at that interesting stage where he’s so random and OCD about whatever thing he loves right now that he is an endless supply of anecdotes.  

Cruel Intentions has notes of (I’m cutting out all the over the top ad copy) Oud, Bergamot, Centifolia Rose, woody heart notes, Papyrus, Vetiver, Guaiacum Wood, Styrax and Castoreum. Created by perfume Sidonie Lancesseur, this is probably my favorite of the six, and I just have a sample, and I fear this one needs to be spritzed. It starts off bright and sunny with the bergamot.  Then the oud peeps out, giving it some depth.  The vetiver grounds it with an earthiness, and the incense and wood notes keep it warm.  Now, it doesn’t exactly live up to its name. I was expecting some cruel bite to it, but perhaps it only had intentions and dropped the cruelty to a teensy love nip because it just couldn’t find it in it to be cruel, but the notes have all the intentions and potentiality to be that.  It’s easily one of or my favorite of the six. 

Speaking of cruelty gone astray, did I tell y’all what Harry did for Halloween?  Oh, of course not, I wasn’t here. Every year, Halloween is a big production at our house — hanging things from the trees, bodies dropping off and heads dripping blood, sliding scary things. I think I’ve told y’all that before.  Mostly it’s done because Harry wants it that way and he does all the work and only requires that I pitch in some money here and there.  He has a $500 fog machine from a couple of Halloweens ago. Yes, I pitched in half, but he paid for the other half. He was the only 15-year-old I knew that had his own high-powered, “can fog the entire block in 30 seconds” fog machine. Anyway, this year he wanted a big production, wanted to scare the little kids so bad they wouldn’t even make it to the first step. Those that braved it would be the cool, fearless kids.

As time got closer to Halloween this year, he just couldn’t do it.  At 17, his empathy factor has kicked in that overrides what he thinks is cruel fun, and he just couldn’t scare the little kids - he said they’re so small and helpless, it just wasn’t right.  So what he did that night was got the fog machine out and had it running at full blast on the front porch, covering the front of our house, lawn, block in fog, and he sat behind it with his guitar and his amp and special effects doodads cranked at full blast and serenaded the trick-or-treaters, the block and all of the neighborhood with some spooky music that he made up, some bluegrass, some blues, some rock, some jazz, for the whole night. They loved it.

Beyond Love was created by perfumer Calice Becker and is all about the tuberose. There’s something else in there, gardenia definitely and orange blossom maybe?  I wax hot and cold on tuberose, loving Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle and Estee Lauder’s Tuberose gardenia and Malle’s Carnal Flower, but hating Fracas (Yeah, I know!).  This one is firmly in the love camp. If you love tuberose, it’s definitely worth sniffing. To me, it’s a little bit of a cross between Shalini and Estee Lauder’s Tuberose scent.  Is it worth $232 for 50 ml to you?  Well, let’s see.

Can we talk about the box for a second?  If you are a box whore at all (and I know who you people are), this is the perfume box to end all perfume boxes.  Done in black lacquer, it has a scrolly design on the sides.  Turn the silver key with a gorgeous black tassle on the end and open it up to black velvet where the perfume lives, breathes and looks stunnin.  If you’re one of those people that don’t care about the boxes and presentation of a perfume, you can probably skip the whole By Kilian line. You may or may not find something in here worth $232 for 50 ml.  If you love boxes, trust me, you will find at least ONE scent of the six that you love enough to buy for that box.  Find it, then beg, plead, stomp your feet until someone who loves you gets you it so you can have this box.  I’m sending the sample set to my sister to pick one so I can buy her a bottle for her birthday.  Because if I don’t, she will sigh and moan and salivate until I give in and give her my box.  Well, that, and because I love her and want her to have the box of her dreams. She’s the worst box whore I know, and this box will provide hours/days/years of orgasmic fondling pleasure. I’m shuddering thinking about what kind of hits we are going to get from that paragrph.  Listen, I’m here to help y’all find your Kilian, if you want, so you can have your own Absolutely Fabulous Kilian Box.  Enabler? Me?  You’ll thank me later.

Where were we?  Oh, yes,  Liaisons Dangereuses has notes of plum, Egyptian Geranium, Cinnamon, Sandalwood and musk notes. Created by Calice Becker, it goes on pretty sweet with the fruity notes, but is warmed with the cinnamon and geranium, the two other notes that are apparent early on, and rose.  Not sure why rose isn’t listed as a note, it’s definitely rose.  While I’m not in deep love with this, it is well made and lovely to wear. It reminds me a little of MDCI Rose de Siwa, the rose one that I love and maybe slightly of Rose d’Ete from Rosine. If you like your roses a little fruity and spicy, this could be the one that gets you into your own Kilian beautiful black lacquered box. 

Love takes its “inspiration” from the Marshmallow, and it was also created by Calice Becker. Notes of Neroli, Sambac Jasmine, Rose, Iris, vanilla and musk.  If you like vanilla and sweeter perfumes, you should find love here.  It starts out with oodles of vanilla.  Not sure if there’s actually a marshmallow note or not, there could be, but I’m getting lots of vanilla, held up and filled out with the floral notes and musk, so it does not stay a flat, linear vanilla scent.  I find this one addictive like that Tihota thing from Indult is addictive. I don’t like vanilla perfumes, so what is wrong with me!?!?!?  This one does not stay as loud as long as Tihota or Serge Lutens Un Bois Vanille. So if you like vanilla in limited, more understated doses, this one could definitely work for you. 

Straight to Heaven  was created by Sidonie Lancesseur and has notes of rum, Patchouli, Nutmeg, Cedar and Brazilian Rosewood. Okay, I got nothing here, it’s got a note in there (maybe the rum) that makes me smell pure alcohol, which means that note is killing the others, so I can’t do a proper review at all.  What I do get is patchouli and, well, more patchouli, but Marina gets more booze, so go read her review on this one instead.

Last, but not least is A Taste of Heaven.  Notes of Absinthe, Orange Blossom, lavender, bourbon vanilla, Turkish Rose, Patchouli, Oak Moss, and Amber. Created also by Calice Becker, this one is pretty much working for me on the open, but I’m not sure why. It seems a little foody at first with lavendar roaming around in the composition. Lavender is not one of my favorite notes in a perfume, so making that work is tough for me personally, but it’s not hate, just don’t think it’s love either. If you are fond of lavender, this one may work for you…  it’s interesting in how the notes are combined, and I suspect this is one that depends very much on chemistry. I read Marina’s description of what it did on her skin, and it didn’t devolve that way on me, I’m just not a fan of some of the notes in this one, which keeps it off my fave list, but it stays an interesting contrast between the lavender and the foody aspect, almost gingerbread note, which I probably wouldn’t wear, but have had fun sniffing.

The names? You really have to just skip the names and how they apply to the perfumes on these.  They’re great names, but I don’t think they reflect the juice inside.  So getting past your expectations is the first step to appreciating these fragrances, which are all well made.  Now, are they overpriced?   When you factor in that gorgeous box for the intial bottle, I think no.  I’ve got a beautiful white porcelain box and bottle for some Nuit de Noel that I would have paid twice the price I did to get it. Sometimes the trappings around a perfume are worth it, and when you factor in that presentation, it’s not as bad. When you further factor in that you only have to pay $95 for a 50 ml refill after you buy the first one, the price point actually makes sense for the perfume.  My work is done here.

As a Thanksgiving treat, for those of you that don’t subscribe to the Perfumed Court newsletter, we are doing a Thanksgiving sale of 10% off with code thanks from midnight tonight 11/22/07 through Monday at midnight 11/26/07.

Fall continues to unroll in my neighborhood like an endless, crimson magic carpet. We are fully into our October leaf display — a month late. I can never remember what alchemy of temperature and moisture is supposed to produce the best fall color on our maples, oaks and walnuts, but surely something went right earlier this year.

In late November the outdoors here is normally gray and brown, a reminder that winter is definitely just around the corner. I like all this color around me even if it’s a bit odd. And although we’ve had a few light freezes, my roses are still blooming like mad. Their late, optimistic buds and fragrant blossoms are decorating my Thanksgiving table today. Yesterday I clipped the last of the lavender, still blooming along the side of the house, to tuck into my linen closet.

I am thankful. I am thankful for all of you. I hope you have a lovely day today. I plan to indulge in our magnificent holiday ritual – baking pies this morning, consuming 4,000 calories this afternoon, and falling asleep in front of the television, my eyes levered shut by massive doses of turkey and assorted carbohydrates.

On Monday I’ll be reviewing some of the other things I’m thankful for, returned to me in my Weird Bottle Swap. I hope to see you then.

fall leaves: naturemoms.com

… is the name of the new fragrance by little known Portuguese house Para errar e humano, and I was lucky enough to score a sample by first pimping my body to the highest bidder, then abseiling from the Houses of Parliament, and finally parading naked from John O’Groats to Land’s End, wearing nothing more than multicoloured nipple tassles with motorised twirling action and a codpiece in the shape (though not size - tiny stopper!) of a Serge Lutens bell bottle (later surgically removed).

Enough about me, what about the perfume? Well, never have I come across a less apposite moniker. Said to be designed around the idea of a flag shaped pyramid with a dodecahedronal nature, top notes of bassoon, Guadalajara and emery board waaaay too quickly give way to midnotes of vintage clothes-rack, durian and tarte au citron with the first traces of mould. Within 15 minutes of the first spray (Patience has ‘a patent pending spray device that has to be seen to be believed, combining rustic chic with the evanescence of contemporaneity: we call it “Esguinchar mim!”‘) a mere hint of these notes is left - all that remains is the base notes: ‘a breeze on Saturday afternoon in Oporto, 1963, essence of Lord Beaverbrook and Japanese windchimes’. We found it truly wonderful and although it has all the tenacity in one’s memory of a drunken fumble on the dance floor back when one was young, foolish and unhappy, it would be worth buying if it wasn’t for the price. Setting a new standard for niches, a 5ml bottle of pure parfum (’in a delectable apothecary bottle, hand etched by virginal spinsters in the hills of Bali-Hai’, though it looks like one you could buy in Walmart), will set you back $450. You’ll also have to visit their boutique in Neverneverland, On a Green Hill Far Away - no phone orders. I’ll satisfy myself with my non-existent decant.

Sorry, I’m being sillly. Though not too far off the mark given the claptrap us scentaholics have to swallow from far too many companies these days. I’m convinced Patty’s budget for her Perfumed Court business must be heading towards the GNP of a country like Bhutan, given the exponential rise in perfume prices now that - and oh, ain’t we lucky kids! - luxury is back. Anyway, I seem determined to continue to digress. Enough!
I’m writing this because, as we approach holiday season (I do so hope you have lots of social engagements for what some silly Brits label ‘Party Season’ over here - daft arses), I’m waiting on packages that normally fly across the Atlantic in three days but have been slowed down by Thanksgiving sluggishness. I blame all those marshmallows served with sweet potatoes. They’re called sweet potatoes for a reason folks! Ease up a little wouldja?!! Anyway, I have no patience, and their lack of arrival is DOING MY HEAD IN! For one thing, I have nothing, nada, zilcharoonie to review.

Patience is a virtue

Virtue is a grace

Grace is a little girl

Who didn’t wash her face.

My gran, in all her wisdom, was able to debunk millennia of Judaeo-Christian doctrine in a teensy weensy quatrain. Don’t get me wrong, I think Patience is a long way from over-rated. I’m a (sometimes) patient listener, teacher, partner, lover, gardener, cook, walker, thinker, tinker, tailor, soldier, spy, but i draw the line at patience for perfume. If I’ve fallen in love, I whine at the door like a dog in heat. I rush home from work each day, hoping to find at least a note saying ‘We tried to deliver your perfume of delight that will change your life forever, make the stars sparkle more brightly, give hope where there was once despair, etc., etc., etc.,’ but as yet the doormat has only bills, junkmail, Christmas catalogues (Boden x4 is currently the record winner, closely followed by the Cotswold Company), and bank statements (which I long ago requested to be online only - as you can tell, I’m a zealous crusader against climate change…). I dream of delayed smell and wake up pining, empty nasal cavity matching empty wallet.
I don’t know what to do about it. Suggestions please. Alternatively, maybe you could do a little dance of ‘postal delivery for Lee’ (I imagine the moves would work well with a disco number like ‘Young Hearts, Run Free’ by Candi Staton) chez toi, and I might get lucky. I’m a dirty materialist, but I’m happy for very silly superstitions to work in my favour…

Even more alternatively, if Lack of Patience (and avarice - let’s not go there) are my perfume sins, what are yours? Share - we’re in this together, folks, and I’ll tell no-one. No-one, you hear?

I’m always hesitant to post and I don’t know why. Everyone in the blogosphere, with the odd exception…ahem, is unbelievably kind, overlooking the occasional misspelled word, or stupid rant. And yet I hesitate. I hereby commend my latest few rants/reviews to all who would feign interest.

I have titled this, “the hunt,” because I want to reach out here. How many of us are after that perfect tuberose (or leather, or violet) and we truly know, I mean absolutely KNOW that it isn’t even the notion of finding the holy grail, but the quest for the ultimate perfume that enthralls? I confess I have obsessed about the new Diors (the “particulieres”) since I first saw mention on Now Smell This. I have no idea what they will smell like, but I have the collection on the way as soon as they hit the boutiques. Yes, I adore Galliano and all he has done for the magnificent house. But do I truly have any idea what his art will manifest in his scented world?….I know he is a mere collaborator, but I’m sure he was involved heavily in their creation. I saw “tuberose”, “exclusive” and “Dior” and that was all she wrote. Please, anyone out there relate?? What’s a hunter to do?

On to some raves and randoms. I have a fabulous new friend at the Prada Beverly Hills boutique and I’m going to shamelessly plug him. His name is Joa and he has been nothing but kind and generous with his time/attention. I live in the middle of the freakin’ midwest and of course have to do much shopping over the internet and phone. This gentleman has emailed pictures and spent so much time on the phone with me describing everything from jackets to, you guessed it, the single note scents. I must tell you the new ones (Myrrhe, Opoponex, and benjoin) will be mine as soon as they too hit the store! The Oeillet, et al (referred to as numbers 1-7) are magnificently minimalist and gorgeous. I have been layering the tubereuse and the narcisse with the iris for quite some time and have never failed to at least garner a “what are you wearing??!! from someone.

I have enjoyed Angel since it’s debut. I can appreciate the power of the scent/packaging/advertising. I don’t share Luca’s seeming obsession with the chemicals involved, but what do I know. I’ll tell you. The newest incarnation is “La part des Anges.” Everone knows this of course. The jus is drop dead gorgeous. Much more woodsy and rich, but not too sweet. I would buy more if I hadn’t already promised my bank account to Dior.

How about I send a fabulous little something (I promise it will go out right away!!) to a random two people. It will be a combination of the few things mentioned. I’ll tack on the winners’ names to one of my fabulous blogmates’ post…..Happy Thanksgiving and God Bless you and yours.

Every now and again, browsing websites like LuckyScent and BeautyHabit, I play a game in my head: if I were to choose a signature scent based solely on the image a fragrance projects via the bottle, marketing, name, perfumer, what have you – anything except the notes – what would I go with? I might go with Solange Azagury-Partridge’s Stoned. I can’t help myself. I like her detailed, occasionally over-the-top jewelry, the bottle looks interesting, and I’d love to tell people I was wearing Stoned. The name’s obviously a play on her work as a jeweler, but it’s also humorous (stoned, as in high) and even dangerous (like being stoned for your sins). I’d get busy and learn how to pronounce Solange’s full name without sounding like a goober. But I never actually smelled Stoned, because what if: a) I love it, and then ack! – it’s just one more thing to covet; or b) I hate it, and then it can’t be my imaginary friend any more. I wound up with a sample recently, and I decided it was time to discover the truth.

I was heartened by the number of reviews of this fragrance on LuckyScent containing the words “old lady,” a sure sign that it might be love. The opening, all face-powder, was a bitter disappointment. Come on — look at that bottle! I wasn’t expecting that kind of old lady! My disappointment lasted approximately 20 seconds, when the muff-bomb exploded and I got my first clue what those reviewers were complaining about.

Let us detour (briefly) to the Victoria’s Secret scents. I have smelled a few, and they can be pleasant. They play at sexy, with their jasminillamber accords, but they are cupcake fragrances. They are “sexy” with a smile and a wink. If the Victoria’s Secret line is a sexy little kitten, then Stoned is a panther, with cold, glittering eyes and hot, dangerous breath. The first few minutes of Stoned is deliciously dirty. It’s a barnyard musk somewhere between JAR’s Ferme Tes Yeux and Miller Harris’ L’Air de Rien, cut with a generous dollop of Bal a Versailles’ black-hearted lollipop. If I had to guess the magic in this witches’ brew it would be labdanum; its resin-y ambergris/leather smell mimics the off-kilter sparkle and prickly heft of Azagury-Partridge’s anglerfish ring pictured here (which I would love, if Santa’s reading this. Or Satan, which is what I originally typed. There must be a soul around here somewhere I could sell…) The flowers gradually emerge, but they’re dark and dusky, adding a lover’s warmth to the scent rather than any overt sweetness. Once you get past the opening it’s a relatively linear fragrance; love it or hate it, there’s not a lot of middle ground. It doesn’t smell like Bal a Versailles (which in my opinion is the superior scent) but it’s got some of that inky allure, that sweet whiff of incense and decay you get in cold, dank stone rooms. The drydown eventually loses its magic and becomes a sensual, rather conventional musk; for something that comes on as hot to trot as Stoned does, it rolls over and goes to sleep faster than, say, vintage Femme or Bal. Am I going to pay $285 for this? Nope. But it sure was a fun roll in the hay.

Notes are: Italian bergamot, classic rose, jasmine absolute, labdanum, tree moss, musk and vanilla bourbon.

bottle image: luckyscent; ring from Azagury-Partridge’s website

Word of advice — never go out of town when there is a Posse Scent Club coming up that you have to write for, and at least one of the scents on the list is something you detest that has some fierce fans, because your “friends” will stick you with the one scent you don’t ever want to write about again.

So…. let’s start somewhere else in hopes of keeping the yelling down when I get to Arabie.  Serge Lutens Rahat Loukhoum is one of those scents that I could stick my nose in the bottle and sniff all day and be happy. Put it on my skin?  Not so much.  Notes of fresh white almond, crushed cherry pits, hawthorn, heliotrope, Turkish rose, balsam, tonka bean, aldehydes, white honey, musk and vanilla.   I’m not sure what goes wrong on me, and it doesn’t always, but I’m blaming the honey.  Inspired by the thick, jellied candy, which I’ve never smelled… maybe?  It’s not that white stuff with the jelly chunks inside it that Brachs makes and sells in the Pick-a-Mix bins?  Listen, my culture just isn’t that polished, shoot me — oh, wait, the Arabie fans will do that later, never mind.  The open of Rahat is sweet and cherry and just lovely, but the longer it’s on me, it turns into kind of a blobby mess. I’m not sure if it does that on everyone, but because of the way it dries down, this for me will always remain in my “leave it in the bottle to sniff” category of perfumes, but any time I am almost out of it, I have to make sure I have at least a couple of ml around always to sniff because smelling it makes me very happy, for reasons I just can’t explain.

Guerlain’s Iris Ganache I’ve reviewed in the past, and I’ve not changed my mind on how much I love this since my previous review.  The notes are  bergamot, iris butter, white chocolate, floral notes, cinnamon, patchouli, white musks, cedarwood and vanilla. It sounds like a mess, but it so works, never going too sweet or into the sweet gourmand territory.  Wasser balanced this one perfectly, as the drydown veers off into a dry territory that is a shadow of sweetness, just a whisper.  In fact, the longer I smell this one, the more I adore it.

 Listen, when I get done with this next one, I should just move before the Arabie lovers show up at my door, throw a gunny sack over my head and take me out and throw me in the river.  What they were thinking when they made this perfume potage is a mystery.  A commenter said yesterday that they wanted to eat Arabie, not wear it, and that’s pretty much where I fall.  Notes of Cedar, sandalwood, candied mandarin peel, dried figs, dates, cumin, nutmeg, clove, balsamic resins, Tonka bean, Siamese benzoin, myrrh reads like a shopping list for King Soopers instead of a perfume.  It’s just tooooooo much – too cuminy, too much spice, too, yes, FOODY!  Gak, gah, erp, yuk, I hate this stuff on me with the passion of a thousand burning coals. I will never change my mind, no, not ever.   Pardon me, I need to salt and pepper my Arabie hand and eat it now.  ::: shudder ::::

Whether gourmand or foody, I do always find myself fascinated with the more “eaty” scents, even though I wear very few of them. Iris Ganache is one of the ones I do wear.  When you do try gourmand perfumes, are you someone that wears them or just likes to sniff them in the bottle?  Out of the six scents that we picked for this Posse Scent Club, which did you like the most? Which did you think was the best made, even if it wasn’t your favorite? And why?

Also — the sample set is now up on The Perfumed Court, and you can get 30% off with code POSSE — make sure to hit the arrow to the right of the code after you put it in to apply it. I can’t do the individual samples with that discount anymore, though, sorry!

Unfinished business: I believe I’ve contacted everyone in my Weird Bottle Swap and several bottles are on their way to new homes. Winners were: Matt, Dana, Rosarita, Cathy, Catherine, Sariah, Kim … I’m forgetting someone, but you know who you are. I wonder what I’ll get in return?

On to today’s post:

If you’d like to watch the fur fly, just stick a bunch of fragrance nuts in a room and describe something as “foody.” Descriptions of a particular fragrance as “gourmand” or “edible” can provoke heavy disagreement. If I smell Serge Lutens Santal Blanc and get a note vaguely like custard, and all you get are cedar shavings, you might think I’m nuts. You can have a fragrance with a dominant food note that isn’t foody. Fendi Theorema smells strongly of orange, for instance, but isn’t remotely gourmand. (Quick, someone – argue with me!)

Patty and I had fun coming up with the list of gourmand fragrances for this post. Our first draft list was, frankly, nauseating. Some foody fragrances are so sweet they make our teeth hurt. Eventually we wound up with a workable list, and then I waited until Patty was overwhelmed by her return from Paris and stuck her with the horrifying gave her the more interesting part of our list, which she’ll be covering tomorrow, and we love her for doing it!

Today we’re sniffing L’Artisan Bois Farine; L’Artisan Fou d’Absinthe; and Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale.

L’Artisan Bois Farine (“wood flour”) has a wonderful story behind it involving homeslice Jean-Claude Ellena’s encounter with a rare flowering tree in the Reunion Islands, and its flower that smells like, well, flour (read the blurb on LuckyScent here.) Notes are white cedar, gaiacwood, sandalwood, white iris, farine flower, fennel seed. Bois Farine is one of those scents I want desperately to work for me – look at those notes! – but it often smells flat and bitter, almost like stale beer, so I borrowed some skin for this review. On a normal person, Bois Farine smells weirdly enchanting. The cedar was less pronounced on my defenseless children than it sometimes is; the farine flower and fennel smell like rising bread dough, and the floral notes add a deliciously odd counterpoint. On Diva it is breadier and smells peppery; on Enigma it is heartbreakingly, delicately sweet — I can almost feel the crunch of fennel seeds in my teeth, their sweet sugary flavor and scent reminiscent of (but milder than) aniseed. I’ve read a number of references to a smell like peanut butter, and I don’t get that at all. It is a flowery bread (or a bready flower.) I think of it as Santal Blanc’s younger, less difficult sister. It’s probably not for everyone, and that’s just dandy.

In contrast, Fou d’Absinthe is a tall, deliciously bitter quaff of a fragrance. With notes of absinthe, star anise, dry pine, cistus, angelica flower, blackcurrant buds, clove, ginger, nutmeg, patchouli, pepper, pine needles, fir balsam, Fou d’Absinthe is (so far as I can recall) the first of the recent spate of absinthe scents (which now includes Black Fig & Absinthe, Absolument Absinthe, and probably others.) This is a great time to be an absinthe fragrance, now that the long-banned beverage has recently been legalized for import to the U.S., spawning a mini-industry of absinthe theme parties and absinthe-related drinkware. I haven’t tasted absinthe, but its comparison to the anise-flavored drink ouzo has mostly killed off any interest … where were we? Oh, yeah – this is a great scent. It’s stronger than a lot of the L’Artisans, and falls I guess at the more “masculine” end of the spectrum, being absent any conspicuously sweet notes. After the flaming-alcohol opening, there’s half an hour or so of woods, pepper, and a faint musky note, and this phase, while not exactly hairy-chested, is something that definitely smells borrowed from the men’s aisle. Then it becomes more green and balsam-y, and after that I’d call it easily unisex. It’s the sort of cool, refreshing scent its notes imply. I am insanely grateful to get no anise.

Do I find it particularly “foody?” I can’t decide. It’s almost more … forest-y. Or garden-y. I think the woods render it too cologne-like to really conjure a gourmand concept for me. I love it, but I don’t want to drink it.

Finally, Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale provides me with an excellent crow-eating opportunity. First off – it smells like spiced vanilla, not fish, and I’m not researching the inspiration for that goofy name. Maybe my nose was off; the first few times I got vanilla (okay, a very nice vanilla) but none of the spice-fest everyone else was raving about. Then I threw more on and – wow! Really, really pretty. Notes are: citrus, pepper, nutmeg, cinnamon, Madagascan vanilla. The citrus serves not as some jarring lemon-y contrast note, but as an additional tart note in the spice mix. For me, Sushi Imperiale sparked my current mini-interest in vanilla scents (along with Guerlain Spiritueuse Double Vanille). Sushi is a nice counter-demonstration to the general nastiness of Sephora’s gourmand section with its fear-factor level of sweetness. Sushi doesn’t mow you down with a truckload of wood-pulp extracted vanillin (hey, where did you think it comes from?) It’s not dry, precisely, or smoky – but there’s a subtlety to it that’s hard to describe. Yeah, it’s a warm blanket of a comfort scent, but I could smell this on an Armani-suited, male trial lawyer and not burst out laughing. There’s something sort of honey/tobacco about its spiciness, making it closer in feel to Chergui or Esteban Sensuelle Russie than, say, a CSP vanilla. There’s also something sophisticated about it; maybe the simplicity of the scent? Sillage Monster Alert: is it just me, or does a little of this go a very long way?

So … let’s have a food fight. Do you consider “gourmand” and “foody” to be sort of synonymous, or are you one of those people who write “gourmand but not really foody” and mean it? How foody do you consider these scents? Are you feeling the love for foody scents in general, or does the idea disgust you? Finally, should we take all the really, really sweet gourmand scents, no matter how elegantly done, and bury them in one of those underground nuclear-waste storage sites?

Next month’s Scent Club: Holiday Scents! For your olfactory delight I think we’ll be reviewing CB I Hate Perfume’s Winter 1972 and Gingerbread, Caron Nuit de Noel, Fendi Theorema, and Guerlain’s Aqua Allegoria Winter Delices. Check The Perfumed Court for samples, we’ll let you know the dates.

absinthe image from flickr

It seems to me that when it’s truly hot, summer is best defined by visuals that are almost abstract. When it swelters, cars can lift off the ground, people’s heads separate from their bodies, their shoulders widening, then wobbling, before returning to true. Trees quiver as though root-rocked by a terrible storm and the air itself seems visible in its languid movement. The world shakes quietly as it melts.

Here, in November, a different kind of mirage occurs that for me captures the transition from autumn to winter, this moment in time. On one or two early mornings, the mist clings so intimately to the ground that a walker appears to be a torso, drifting across a a grey blanket, legs removed. At other times the mist is patchy, a quilted pattern on the landscape. A runner can dart in and out of the milky grey, at once dark shadow and fully formed human. There’s magic to this, and menace. Fog brings an imagined silence, a shrinking of location, and an encroaching isolation. It turns you inwards, and then indoors. I love it.

My favourite experience of mist and fog, as foolhardy as this sounds, is when driving, penetrating those layers that float above you, here, and either side of you, there. The headlights hinder rather than enable vision - this is nothing but water, but it refuses to be seen through, and whilst light illuminates it, it does not clear a passage. Momentary fog-free spots bring relief from concentration, but these are brief respites in the threading journey. Thick fog is no fun - there has to be a pattern for pleasure. Best of all, at night, are those tongues of mist that emerge from the dark, slide forward into the light and lick the car in passing, travelling their wet lengths along the sides or over the bonnet so rapidly you wonder if you saw it. There’s majesty in the monster.

And fog and mist are so often monsters in our imaginations. Mist, at best austere, gets off lightly. Fog is imbued with supernatural horrors and murderous powers, or else it blots out - through metaphor - what was treasured. It appears to remove physical space - I often had that childhood awe of wishing I could wander through the grey into a newly born world, more technicolor than Oz, but grey reality was always still there when the grey clouds lifted. And it’s used to describe real temporal loss - the fog of memory. For some of us, those places we inhabit in our past - the rooms of our memories - will be occluded, one by one, until all we have is this moment now, a moment that always drifts away, never to return.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this ramble, with this misty journey into fog, except it’s getting miserable and melancholy, isn’t it? Sorry about that. Unintentional. I generally don’t plan my writing here for the posse. I just open up in the admin section and get going. I try to make it about perfume, but when there’s nothing pressing on me in a scented sense, I just hope I’ll end up with a fragrance or two somehow. And you thought this was heading to Iris Silver Mist, didn’t you? Me too…

In all the writing I’ve been doing recently (none online folks - secret stuff), memory unavoidably starts beating its drum the loudest. It’s my main theme I guess. Like many of us, I’ve had intimate experience watching someone losing theirs - the journey from befuddlement to anger, resentment, frustration, flashes of violence (’Rage, rage against the dying of the light’) to the final calm, blank contentment. My grandfather, the kindest man I’ve ever known, saviour of fallen nestlings, shedman extraordinaire, fierce lover of whistlepower - he’d attack my fragile gran when she approached him, before eventually forgetting she was there at all. She became a ghost who had never existed, as he himself had never journeyed, anywhere.

So perhaps that’s one reason memory is there, my obsession, but I imagine there are others. Last night, on TV, I watched ‘Capturing Mary’ a joint BBC / HBO production. I recommend it to you if you love period drama with great costume design, Maggie Smith or (slightly) pretentious British films. And somehow, it fits my current thinking about memory - how we shape who we are through how and what we remember; how who we become is in turn shaped through what we can’t forget. As a drama, it manages to be vacuous and profound, subtle and superficial all at once, and I still can’t decide if it’s anything other than a piece of trickery, a parlour game played on a nodding and chin-stroking audience of self-declared aesthetes. Be warned: I cried (you should also watch the companion drama too, to make more sense of this one).

I’ve run out of my allotted time. I need to go and make some memories, rather than just thinking about them.

(Oh, and Iris Silver Mist is incredible, isn’t it? First of all, you’re rooted in the ground, almost suffocated by that frozen weight. But then, what a release. A dancing wraith that should shudder with cold, but somehow just enjoys it.

Oh, and thanks to vidabo of perfumeoflife for inadvertently introducing me to Jack Spencer, whose photos accompany my ramble. She always chooses the most apposite images to match her scent of the day.

Oh, and the winner of the Cumming draw, and whatever else I was rustling up, is Anne. And, as a bonus for teasing her, I’m sending Divalano some too. Ladies - I’ll be in touch).

Where’s all the ice in Paris?  Every glass of water or Coke I had, whether in a cafe or at my family’s house, came without ice. Is that a cultural thing? I’m so used to dispensing my mondo-size water container up to the top with ice, then squeezing in some water on top of it, that this complete lack of ice strikes me as being… well, a little disconcerting.  Lack of freezer space?  Just prefer things at room (ack!) temperature?  Are Americans ice-obsessed?   And the water situation is also perplexing.  You don’t just get a glass of water. You have to order a drink of some kind in a restaurant, and they there’s a law that says they have to give you a glass of water if you ask for it.  A law — for a glass of water. Huh?  These are the oddities I found that keep me up at night.

Not sure what day we are at, but it was Friday, I do know that. We headed to Bon Marche to see what all they had in stock.  After a lengthy delay in the hat/scarves/gloves department and the purchase of a cunning little hat and gloves, we did get to fragrances. They had a few things that I can’t get here, like Vivienne Westwood’s newest, Let it Rock, which I’m ashamed to admit I haven’t spent any time with yet, but it doesn’t smell like the normal fruity floral, though it nods at that formula with top notes of bergamot and freesia, a jasmine heart, and dry down to a base of amber and patchouli.  It doesn’t spend very long in the top notes, and then it is quite well made. I need to spend more time with it.

We also found a new line called Memo.  In short — Lalibela is rose, peony and jasmine; Siwa is a floral vanilla; Sundance, if I understood the French correctly, was actually made at Sundance Film Festival or because of it… not sure, but it’s a tuberose baby; Inle is osmanthus and tea.  Robin covered them here, so I won’t go into more detail, but they are all very nice.  Again, haven’t spent any time with them other than a quick spritz. The one scent they did in a candle that I wish they’d do in a perfume is St. Moritz Fizz – wood fire and hot incense.  Yum!!!!

Oh, yeah, missed this for one day, we did run across the two new Lubins, Vetiver and L’eau Neuve.  Again, no time with either one, but they are released and I assume will be showing up at the usual places in the next couple of months. 

After some other meandering that day, we met up with carmencanada (Denyse) at the Westin.  She is everything you imagine her to be. Smart, beautiful, witty, full of great stories, just a delightful companion to catch up with.  Diane met up with an old friend of hers there as well, and they headed off to dinner, and Denyse and I went off to get into trouble.  We checked back in at Annick Goutal to sniff those new incense ones and to pick up something March wanted, and I tried again for a sample of them, and no go.  Since it was close, we headed over to Patou and the monclins.  Now, the perfectly groomed, elegant woman in charge was doing something else, and after a conversation that I did not understand in the least, Denyse motioned me upstairs.  I was thinking we’d have an escort, but no… we were on our own!  She let us go play in the upstairs part of Patou, where all the essences are kept.  Sniffing nirvana as we prowled through hundreds of bottles, sniffing and dipping and wrapping to take home.  Sometimes you just get very lucky, and that was just an utter delight, kids left alone in the perfume store.

After bidding Denyse good night, I headed off for my family’s house for dinner. You know what Saturdays are good for?  That’s right, y’all, absolutely nothing.  That’s how I spent my Saturday.  Diane was with her friend for the day, and I curled up with a book and a nap, napping off and on all day long with some grapes and sparkling water.  I’d been living on about 5-6 hours of sleep each night, or less, so that much sleep was very welcome.

Sunday is family day in France, and it was my cousin Caroline’s 38th birthday. Big lunch, dessert, I think we were eating for about four hours, it was perfect. But what’s a day without some shopping? So we decided to make a run down to Sephora on Champs-Elysees since it’s open 24 hours a day.  What a crowded, noisy place that was, I thought my head was going to pop off.  We were trying to hunt down the Etat Libre Noel Au Balcon that only they will have for the holidays.  After lots of looking, we finally asked, and they found one bottle, which we promptly snagged, along with some wrinkle formulas, and then we just escaped, whew!!!

Monday was mop-up shopping, getting all of our Serge bottles, going to Caron and Guerlain, but first we met up with Daniel (stop lurking!), who lives in France, but not Paris, and went to Guerlain and the Osmoteque with us. Daniel is just very, very cool. Fun, funny, full of life, irreverent, just a treat to get to know.

Now… Guerlain.  Francoise has been the person who has taken care of me through e-mail forever, and she is simply the very best.  Kind, gracious. charming, generous with extras.  This was my first time to meet her in person, so it was a treat. She was busy showing the new Candide Effluve reissue (just in that day!) to a collector, so we made like the rude Americans at least two of us are and collapsed in the middle of their floor and chatted. They finally moved us back into a room that wasn’t quite in the middle of everything.  For those of you that don’t know, if you order direct from Guerlain, they have a frequent buyers rewards program. Now, for ordering just one or two bottles, it’s not worth doing, the shipping is a killer, but for what I order, it’s worth it to get everything from them. Just file that away, and if you ever need anything, ask for Francoise, she’s a true gem.

About the only thing new there that we hadn’t sniffed before was Candide Effluve.  Now, I’m a little confused about that particular bottle. I think that one was the original bottle with the reissue in it, and I believe all of the reissues, which are very limited in number, will have the same old bottle from the Guerlain vault.   When I first put it on, I really didn’t care for it. Too powdery. But the longer it was on, the better it got, and the drydown was just stunning… rich and smoky vanilla perfect.  But… it’s not exactly the same.  I didn’t get the new bottle since I managed to get my hands on a partial bottle of the vintage.  I don’t have the new one in front of me, but the open on each are completely different. The new one was way more powdery, and the vintage seems to have a little bergamot in the open or some ylang, something brighter, which pops out before the drydown starts. Once it gets to the drydown, about an hour in, the new version and the old seem to merge and become the same perfume, or close enough.  Regardless, either are worth having.  $3500 for the new one?  I dunno. It is a piece of history because it’s the original bottle, but I’m going to hope that eventually they’ll do the reissue in some other bottle. Vain hope, maybe, but one I’m happy to nurture.

That brings us to the end of our shopping journey because the next day was the Osmoteque out in Versailles.  Mike set all this up for us and drove us there.  Mike also has one of the most extensive Guerlain vintage collections I’m aware of, outside of the Guerlain family.  This was a 3-hour session with the Director of the Osmoteque, Jean Kerleo.  He was the nose for Patou for many years and creator of one of my favorite scents, Patou 1000, for which I should have kissed him, but he seemed a little reserved.  We were able to pick 20 scents from a list of the scents they have to be able to dip and sniff.  What they have done is found the original perfumes and often the original formulas. They preserve the originals in a vault so they cannot degrade further, and then they recreate the scent from the fomulas and chemical analysis they have.  Because they don’t sell anything they create, they can use the actual ingredients that originally went into the perfume. We went through each of the 20 scents, sometimes veering off into another direction, and half of it was in French and half in English as Monsieur Kerleo was fluent in both. He is a treasure trove of information about perfume history and composition, and I could have happily spent days out there just listening to him.  He is also one of the kindest people you could hope to meet.

 On our list was some vintage perfumes we already knew - which was helpful to make sure that what we’ve gotten elsewhere is true to the original formula - but many we did not know, like Guerlain Kadine, Fath Iris Gris, etc.  The cost of a private audience, we had been told, was 150 euros per person, which is pretty pricy, but well worth it, but at the end it turned out to be 150 for the entire group.  I let you know that since there was some confusion about price, and I’m still not confident of which price it was. I just know what we paid. Regardless, the 150 per person would have been well spent just to sniff the Iris Gris and the Kadine and Houbigant Fougere Royal and Guerlain’s Jardin de Mon Curie.  Plus sniffing Firmenich’s captive molecule, which is hard to describe, as is Engenol. As I said, we meandered all over the place, and Mr. Kerleo would bring out anything for us to sniff if it came up in the conversation.  The prize that was worth the entire trip to smell was Fath Iris Gris.  Legendary among perfumistas, they halted production when Fath was bought out because it was too expensive to make. If you love Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist, you would adore Iris Gris.  Instead of the slightly spicy drydown in ISM, there’s peach and something else.  It breaks my heart to think that this absolutely gorgeous iris scent is no longer in the world, it’s surpassed all my iris scents and gone to the top of the list, it’s just that beautiful. My scent strip is fading, which is so sad… except that Diane scored a bottle before we left that she’s splitting with me. And it’s great that we smelled the correct forumula to be sure that that bottle was perfect, and it is.

 If you ever have the opportunity to go to the Osmoteque, whether for their standard or small party tours or if you can spring for the private session with the director, just do it — first choice should be private session with the director. It was an experience I will never forget.

I won’t forget Paris either.  March gave me good advice before I left – make sure that I took some time to just sit and experience and enjoy, and I did that here and there.  Paris absorbs you after a while. Yes, the people won’t smile at you in the street, but they will take you under their wing and into their heart when you talk to them, first in broken French and then in broken English with (hi, Diane!) lots of pantomiming.  They seem to be more gracious and kind to strangers than I expected, and I didn’t really feel any of the talked about French snootiness, even on the days when I causualed out in my KU (go KU football — 10-0, yeah, baby!!!) hoodie.  But they also seem to worry more — maybe because they don’t have space for more than a day’s worth of groceries. The lack of a well-stocked freezer and big bags of groceries and shopping that lasts for weeks at a time would worry me too.  As with all old cities, there is a history that surrounds them, humanity living in a time and place where so many have lived for hundreds of years.  You can almost see the ghosts as you sit and watch.  Like the iceberg on top, what you think you see is not all there is.  Much of Paris is too big, too crowded for me to be there for very long, but it is charming and completely unique in the world.  I can’t wait to go back next May, there’s still a lot of the city to explore.

Now, for sitting through my travelogue, I have a very special drawing today.  Yes, that’s right, a sample of Iris Gris and Candide Effluve vintage.  Just drop a comment, and I’ll draw next week — maybe even for two winners.

We got together for our informal D.C. sniff-together on Saturday; it was cold and damp but at least it had stopped raining. Thanks again to Nancy of The Perfumed Court and Louise for organizing this! It was great to reconnect with old friends and make new ones. The group numbered 20ish, with folks there from MUA or POL, Posse readers and elsewhere. We went around in a circle and introduced ourselves, laughing and clapping as we matched up online monikers with faces.

The lovely Liz and Lloyd, our SA hosts at Saks, plied us with champagne and pastries, gave us a brief talk on fragrances, then turned us loose with goody bags for the sniffage. There’s a lot going on with 20 people spread out across the fragrance floor, but I tried to circulate and see what people were enjoying. Among the highlights:

Weighing in on which Annick Goutal would make a good gift for a teenager. I think the winner was Petite Cherie, although Chevrefeuille was in the running, and Saks had Neroli and Violette, which are always fun to sniff. I tried Goutal’s smoky, bittersweet Vanille Exquise and very much enjoyed it, vanilla being one of those notes I have really come around to recently; more about that next week.

Tom Ford Black Orchid Voile de Fleur is BO’s insouciant, sweet younger sister that seemed well received among our group, although I didn’t try it on. To me it bears only passing resemblance to the original and is completely without that truffle-bomb note. Unsurprisingly, it is simultaneously more wearable and less interesting.

Prada Infusion d’Iris was also well received, but several people had the same problem I’ve had – it just didn’t stick around long. However, for some reason on Saturday, it stuck to my right hand and wrist like glue, even though a couple of handwashings, a development I’m still puzzling over.

Several people browsed through the stunning Caron coffret, for (I am assuming) $$$$$$$$, while I contented myself with fondling the merely $$$ Armani Prive bottles. Louise and I and some others like the Armani Prive Eclat de Jasmin so much she and I talked about a bottle split, but then she buried it under something and I never heard how it all came out. At one point Sariah saw me pick up the bottle of Cuir Amethyste and said don’t! put! that! thing! on! Man, she hates that thing like poison (or possibly Poison.)

Jil Sander Style now has a Stylessence, what I am guessing is the Extreme version. I liked Style well enough (I like Jil Sander stuff in general) but wasn’t wowed by it somehow. The Stylessence has more oomph, apparently courtesy of cardamom, hinoki wood and musk. I made myself a sample to bring home. It’s a little sweeter than I expected on my first test drive.

Then we walked down the road to Neiman Marcus, with a brief stop in the Wall of Bling at Barneys Co-op to smell Malle Outrageous. I find it a total snooze, like a fresh-style clean-laundry orange-blossom scent, and the bottle’s ugly too. Anyone else who tried it, feel free to chime in and explain why I’m wrong.

At Neiman Marcus we were greeted with more champagne, which pretty much confirmed for me that, as fun as group sniffage is, it’s even better with a little champers. In fact, I think all my future sniffage should include free champagne (and yeah, good luck with that, I know). At this point I started cheerfully hectoring my fellow sniffers regarding successes and failures:

The Gucci by Gucci garnered a lot of interest. The fragrance has this sort of reverse build – you get hit with that huge wallop of patch up front, an almost mentholated note, and then the drydown is the lighter, tamer floral part. The drydown’s nice, though I can’t help feel in some inchoate way it doesn’t become quite what I was expecting. It’s the perfect kind of scent for this time of year, though, and needs more testing.

The big hit? Lalique’s Encre Noir, the vetiver-rich beauty in the black square bottle that smells dry and dark as the name suggests. There was some listless poking around in the Creeds, and I heard a vicious rumor that someone asked the SA if she could show her something in a Creed that didn’t, you know, suuuuuck. Which she did. My favorite Creeds are the ones that don’t smell like Creed, and I guess I’ll stop there before I get a letter from their lawyers telling me to keep my uninformed, idiotic opinions to myself. I’ll cover my butt here by pointing out I did a post on five Creeds I like.

Then there was the wee bottle of Guerlain Shalimar parfum, which made the rounds while we discussed whether L’Instant was any good. Note: you can smell Shalimar parfum through a wool coat 90 minutes later. I consider it a personal failing on my part (no, seriously) that I’ve never been able to feel the Shalimar love, but I moved a baby step in that direction. Like most Guerlains, the quality improves as you move up the food chain, and the parfum brought me to the heart of my problem: I have a very hard time with Shalimar’s famous dichotomy, the vanillic warmth vs. its balsamic, incense-y coldness. The opening of Shalimar is fierce; it reminds me of the leathery resins of Vol de Nuit. Then it goes through a dark, smoky phase, then a long, incense-y vanilla that worked beautifully for me with a cup of tea and a warm computer.

Lunch was a fun combination of heart-clogging steak sandwich and working the table, with fragrance freebies passed around, giggled over and swapped. To the woman whose neck I aggressively sniffed because she smelled intoxicatingly of Chanel 22: I apologize, I was caught up in the moment. After awhile you get used to being hoovered by me (just ask Louise) and I promise I don’t lick or bite. It’s a weakness; I happen to love smelling fragrance on other people’s skin. Speaking of which – again, anyone who’s doubted the power of skin chemistry, spray a particular fragrance on a group of people and wait 20 minutes. The variety is amazing.

After lunch the group went on to our brand new (relatively) luxe Bloomie’s, and I ducked out reluctantly — the Big Cheese is off on one of his junkets, and five hours was about all the twin-sitting I felt Diva could handle. There was a dog waiting to be walked and some dinner groceries to be bought. To all of you I met (and bluechile, I am so sad we didn’t get to talk more about New Mexico – another time, perhaps?) – thanks for a lovely afternoon.

P