April 30, 2008
A bottle of Annick Goutal’s Musc Nomade just landed in my hands… and!
Perfect.
Created by Isabelle Doyen with Camille Goutal, it has notes of white musks (muscone, angelica, ambrette), tonka bean, almond accents, labdanum, and Bombay wood (a papyrus derivative) *taken from Now Smell This.
Some musks, like Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur, are too sweet or oily. I like MR, but after a couple of hours, it wears on my nerves. Some musks like CB Musk Reinvention may be too harsh for most people or too not sweet, relying more on the musk without a lot of varnish.
Musc Nomade is the perfect musk for me. It has just a little foody input from the ambrette, tonka and almond, laying on a wood, incense and musk base. It doesn’t shout, but it whispers of sexuality, it shows a little bit of white lace instead of the top of the thong sticking out of the jeans. There is a softness to it, but with enough musk to not make it dainty or feminine. It stays close to the skin and smells just like the sun on your skin — wait, not your skin, someone you love’s skin.
It’s very much a Goutal scent, understated and finished.
Sorry for the short post today, but work, going out for some fun and some insomnia has taken its toll here at the end of the week. So let’s do a giveaway of three samples of the Musc Nomade. Just drop a note in the comments to be entered!
April 29, 2008
Anyone keeping an eye out for alarming signs indicating the coming of the End Times need look no further than my recent infatuation with some Jo Malone scents. I gave up on Jo Malone quite awhile ago, not too far into my fragrance addiction – somewhere after French Nectarine, Verbena & Lime. Or maybe it was Orange Blossom, Basil & Lavender. I forget. An “edgy” JM scent like Pomegranate Noir was notable to me solely for its stubborn refusal to leave my skin no matter how much I scrubbed.
Then I smelled the new Jo Malone Kohdo Wood Collection at the Sniffa. The Collection contains two fragrances: Dark Amber & Ginger Lily, and Lotus Blossom & Water Lily, and I was stunned to find myself falling for Dark Amber & Ginger Lily. It´s a heavy amber, a Jo Malone, an allegedly limited edition – three strikes against it. I meant to buy some, forgot, and last week I found myself wandering over to Bloomie´s for a new pair of yoga pants and another sniff, because I couldn´t put it out of my mind.
Dark Amber & Ginger Lily is the night-time “sensual” scent of the pair, and features cardamom, pink pepper (which is in everything now, did they pass some law requiring it? not that I’m complaining), ginger, night blooming jasmine, orchid, water lily, rose, black amber, white pepperwood, leather, patchouli, sandalwood and Kyara incense accord. The JM boutique Sales Associate was at lunch when I stopped by, and I was amused at the very nice Chanel SA´s insistence on the “nighttime-only” appropriateness of the Dark Amber – it was pretty clear she thought the circumstances under which you´d want to wear something like that were severely limited. I know some of you have already fallen in love with it. The time of year for its launch seems wrong (it strikes me as a fall scent) but it is a wonderfully smooth, seamless mélange of amber, intense dark florals and woods, creamy, and in my opinion quite a departure from what I have smelled from the line. The incense and spices are strongest at the opening — the incense is lovely in both scents, but I feel obligated to point out that if you’re interested solely because of the incense, this would probably disappoint. I’d describe it as amber/woody with an incense twist. I get more woody incense right at the tail end of the day, after the florals depart. There is a faint odd note like tanning oil or milky coconut that drifts in and out for the first hour before disappearing. I can´t pick out any of the notes listed, and it doesn´t go through a ton of development – it´s warm and rich, and I can´t think of anything else quite like it. If it were a color, it would be a deep red. Contrary to the Chanel SA’s opinion I can see wearing this a lot — it’s sultry by JM standards, I guess, but Poison or Fracas it is not. Having said that, it’s got some decent sillage and might not be the best choice for close quarters at work, particularly if your cube-mate’s idea of heaven is a light citrus cologne.
The Lotus Blossom & Water Lily is the “energizing daytime” scent and includes aquatic notes (horrors!), grapefruit, bergamot, mandarin, lotus blossom, freesia, honeysuckle, water lily, jasmine, incense, amber, sandalwood, musk, aloeswood and guaiac wood. I knew I was buying the Dark Amber but tried on the Lotus Blossom to confirm my lack of interest, and I realized … well, there might be more to the Lotus Blossom than I thought. I put it on the way I hear a normal person wears perfume (squirt on my cleavage, one on the wrists) and went off for my yoga pants and further consideration. Fifteen minutes later I decided I needed a bottle of the Lotus Blossom as well. The citrus comes on fairly strong in the first few minutes, more grapefruit than mandarin, but then it settles into a mildly sweet, watery floral, with a enough of the woods and incense to move it in a more unisex direction and keep it interesting to me. (The aquatic bit isn’t “fresh,” that ironically-named deal-killer that smells sour, like a basket of dirty laundry.) For a relatively light scent it is tenacious – I can smell it on my clothing the following day – and it has the interesting ability to disappear and then suddenly halo around me. I think this would make an excellent, inoffensive work scent. Having discovered its tenacity on fabric, I sprayed my sheets one evening and enjoyed that as well. At $95 for 100ml, it doesn’t fill me with guilt, but you can get 30ml for $50, and anything for $50 is, essentially, free and thus doesn’t count against my perfume budget.
I have many, many scents for cooler weather, but comparatively few I want to smell in a Washington summer. In general, most florals, by the time they reach an appropriate level of lightness for the D.C. heat and humidity, are no longer interesting to me. This leaves a plethora of citrus and tea scents, many of which by definition don´t have huge lasting power. Lotus Blossom is a nice change of pace. This is one of those scents I would love some additional feedback on – I find myself quite hopelessly in its thrall, while at the same time suspecting that it is the perfume equivalent of 7-Up. By the way, they smell delicious layered.
Since I´d clearly lost my mind, and the exceedingly well-trained Jo Malone SA showed back up, I decided to sample some others. Having politely turned down most of the citrus-y JM standards, I accepted a paper strip with White Jasmine & Mint on it – and was, again, smitten. The sharp, sparkling wetness of the mint against the intense, creamy sweetness of a clean jasmine was such a perfect combination I wondered how nobody had tried it before. In The Guide, Tania Sanchez gives it three stars and calls it “an optimistic but crude cologne” (an assessment I agree with, by the way; I have a lot of three-star scents I love) and says is has been done before – and better – in L´Artisan´s The Pour Une Ete. I don´t have a sample here to smell, but my recollection was that the L’Artisan was more about the tea, and less minty. Also, Tania says JM “tries to make everything last longer by throwing in a tenacious musk” which is “vigorous but unnecessary.” To which I respond, and that´s part of what I love about it – L´Artisan lasts about 20 minutes on me. White Jasmine & Mint eventually collapses in on itself and loses its mint after an hour, and then it´s kind of flat. You can´t keep reapplying or you´ll kill yourself eventually with the jasmine. Nonetheless, I see at least a decant in my future.
The Jo Malones are all about layering. I like to layer, but am (perversely) annoyed by a house that deliberately encourages me to do that – shouldn´t their fragrances be good enough to stand alone? They´re just trying to sell more product! This thinking makes no sense, I realize. Anyway, the SA talked about layering the lighter/sweeter scents with some of the scents on the darker end of the spectrum, and if you haven´t tried it already, let me heartily recommend their Wild Fig & Cassis layered with the Black Vetyver Café, which – what kind of idiot am I?!? How have I missed that one? I´ll need some of that this fall, although I’ll test drive it first — tons of complaints about lasting power on Black Vetyver. How’s it work for you? On the other hand, Robin says the Kohdo Wood ones don’t last that long on her either. I must have some sort of freaky, molecular-vacuum-lock skin; I may complain all the time, but it’s seldom about lasting power. All of these lasted a full day (on in the morning; still there at bedtime) on me, and I could still smell them if I sniffed for them in the a.m.
For another take on the scents, please see Robin’s review from yesterday on Now Smell This.
image: jomalone.com
April 28, 2008
First, I have a new photoblog, and you can find it here. I took the photo above when we were in NYC, and Judith and I were resting our feet outside of Bendel’s, sniffing the changes in Tom of Finland on our skin. When we go to Europe the end of May and first half of June, that’s where we’ll upload all our pictures. Now, I’m pretty new’ish getting back into photography, so don’t expect too much. I did it many years ago in high school… well, okay, decades. After high school, I didn’t have the money to get my own SLR camera, so dropped the hobby. When I stumbled back into it recently, I’ve been having a blast seeing the world through a camera lens.
In the future, when there are get-togethers, that’s where we’ll post the photos from those.
The most fabulous discovery I’ve gotten from reading Luca and Tania’s book so far is Yohji Homme. Notes of coffee, rum, licorice, cinnamon and leather. This is probably the most beautifully, wonderfully addictive, warm scent I’ve sniffed in ages. Jean-Michel Duriez was the perfumer on it, and it is showing up as discontinued, which is just a travesty. Beautifully blended, it starts out perfectly balanced between those somewhat strong, gourmandy notes, none of them dominating the other, so it really doesn’t feel foody, just like a warm nose hug. Some of it reminds me of Bond’s New Haarlem, but it’s not as harsh, woodier. Those of you that hate licorice/anise, well, steer clear of this, chances are you won’t like it. Either a man or a woman could wear this, but I suspect women like it more than men, though I’d love to snuggy up to a guy wearing it. I add a very, very enthusiastic two thumbs up for Yohji Homme.
April 27, 2008
As promised, today´s a revisit of Perfumes: The Guide by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez, now that more of you have had a chance to read it. For my earlier review of the book, click here. I propose a free-for-all discussion of any aspects of the book that interest you, with the gentle reminder that we are all adults, theoretically, and we can disagree and still maintain some civility. Please don´t make me come on here and moderate.
The Guide has been a hot topic and occasional source of hard feelings since its release. Obviously I don´t agree with everything in it. My personal approach is the grain-of-salt angle; if I´m in agreement with LT and TS, well, then – we are all genius. If I´m in disagreement – someone is wrong, and it isn´t me, is it? I´m grateful someone thought the topic was of sufficient interest to publish a book on it, and I welcome any converts to the brave new world of perfume obsession. Lurkers – today may be the day to let your hair down and post your first comment! I´m also sending a shout-out to Mercedes and other commenters on The Guide over the past couple of weeks to reiterate your criticisms.
I probably spend a little time each day, often before bed, browsing the book. I´ve folded down the corners of various pages, with the earmarked perfume reviews falling into three general categories, and here are a few examples:
Vindication. I´m going to leave aside reviews of classics like Chanel No. 5 and Mitsouko, which would have shocked me had they awarded anything less than five stars. More rewarding to me is to see scents I think of as underdogs get a little love from the authors. This is especially true when my admiration for a particular scent comes with a small but (I´m being honest here) persistent fear that my love for that scent indicates I have crappy taste. Gucci Rush would fall into this category. It´s a wonderful, weird, brash scent – warmly human but surreal, hairspray and milk. Having TS award it five stars (“… it smells so new, so confident, so reckless, so of-the-moment, Rush manages at every stage to feel cozy and alive…”) gives me an absurd amount of pleasure. A different kind of vindication is seeing LT give Serge Lutens Rousse two stars and call it “one fine mess” from “the periode bizarre.” Heh. Another example is Dior´s Hypnotic Poison (four stars, LT), the “almond” Poison, which I´m wild for, almost as much as the original, and which LT describes as “dark, velvety and autumnally muted, and … radiates in a way that only a great perfumer could have arranged… it was done by Annick Menardo, which explains everything.”
Provocation. Having the authors pan something I like, or love something I hate, doesn´t send me into the spasms of fury I´ve seen elsewhere on the boards and blogs. My reasoning: if I start with the construct that criticism is opinion, no matter how well- or ill-informed, and I disagree with that opinion – then I guess we have a difference of opinion, and I´m okay with that. I am sure it would feel more personal if I were the actual perfumer (and more about that in a bit), but as someone said elsewhere, if you put your creation out there for public consumption, someone, somewhere is going to hate it. Anyway, LT gives Hermes Hiris one measly star (lots of lame stuff got at least two) and manages to pay Hiris creator (and one of my favorite perfumers) Olivia Giacobetti a backhanded compliment at the same time, lauding two of her other fragrances as “great insofar as she manages to break with her usual manner: delicate florals with a pale, sour note reminiscent of clothes washed with unscented fabric softener.” Yeow, that smarts. And while we´re on the topic of perfumers, LT seems to have his favorites and not-so-favorites. Further, I generalize that he is not a big fan of pared-down, minimalist compositions. I could go on for paragraphs citing examples of ratings I totally disagree with, but will name just a few: Marc Jacobs Men (one star); MoslBuddJewChristHinDao (five stars, and puh-leaze), Serge Lutens Sarrasins (five stars), Secretions Magnifiques (ELd´O, five stars, kill.me.now), Apothia Velvet Rope (one star.)
Revelations. Perhaps my favorite part of the book, these are reviews of fragrances I have tried that highlight some aspect I hadn´t noticed or appreciated. Or, they are fragrances I haven´t tried and now want to try, desperately. A random sampling from My Must-Retry list:
L´Artisan Vanilia (“unfettered, hilarious, boisterous, totally devoid of chic” – that last bit is a compliment in context.) LT gives it five stars and makes it sound like a riot, which I totally missed.
L´Artisan Patchouli Patch – four stars from LT and an ode to its development, which he says includes my BFF helichrysum (everlasting flower or immortelle) in the middle. Wow, really? I’ll check it out.
Hermes Osmanthe Yunnan – this may be the only Hermessence the authors liked. TS gives it five stars and talks about the milky aspect of the fragrance, which gets my attention, and calls it “a perfume of pure happiness.” Need to unearth my sample.
A random sample of the New To Me and Must Try category:
Etro Gomma (LT, three stars) “a classic leather in the Knize Ten mold, but more floral, composed by the great Edward Flechier.” Never heard of it.
Profumo.it Grezzo (LT, four stars). “A beautiful woody-fruity confection based on an accord that smells like cedar and apricots (osmanthus?)” He goes on. I want it.
Lady Stetson (TS, four stars). She compares it favorably (and actually prefers it) to Chanel No. 22, which I like very, very much, and no, I am not kidding, although she describes the bottle as hideous. Buy It Now at your local CVS.
Mauboussin (LT, four stars). “An oriental situated somewhere between the first Kenzo Jungle and Fendi´s Theorema, with a skilful combination of warm, mouthwatering dried-fruit notes and clean, uplifting woody-resinous incense and olibanum,” done by Christine Nagel. What was that? Oh, look, and there goes my credit card levitating out of my wallet for an unsniffed purchase.
A couple more thoughts and I´ll shut up and let you dive in. First, I have a relatively high tolerance for snark, and I believe I heard/read that the authors axed a couple of their reviews as too mean. Furthermore, perfumers have to suck it up and take the criticism of their oeuvre just as other artists do. Having said that, LT´s reviews of Mona di Orio´s line seem so vitriolic I can´t help but wonder if there´s a personal element in there. This from a review of Carnation (LT, one star): “She also says she studied with Edmond Roudnitska, but her creations suggest she paid little attention.” Lux – one star, LT, “dire citrus.” Nuit Noire – one star, LT, “a hilariously bad fragrance” with “a loud civet fart.” Oiro – one star, LT, “third-world air freshener.” I spoke of respecting others´ opinions, and LT´s got me beat on any level of technical knowledge of perfumery, but … seriously, come on. One star? For all of them? Did their PR drone make LT mad? This is the only set of reviews that taken together make me uncomfortable.
And last – Do fragrances change according to the wearer´s chemistry? This is a question in the interesting Q&A in the book. TS starts her answer, “For a long time, LT believed the answer to be absolutely no, and that all assertions to the contrary were marketing ploys” etc., and reading that, one expects a paragraph later on in the question explaining how LT´s changed his mind. I´ve now read that question several times, and it´s never clear to me in what way he´s changed his position, which I think he´s held firm to on the various talk shows and interviews. If I read this right, they concede that skin maybe creates nuances in the top notes, but that all drydowns are equal. I am in no position to argue with LT on the technical merits – but, as almost anyone has experienced in a group sniffing situation, fragrances seem to smell different on different people. I know that´s not a reasoned argument; it´s merely a statement. Most folks who´ve sniffed fragrances simultaneously on other people would agree with me, science or no science, and I´m not just talking about the top notes. Fragrances go inexplicably wrong – sweet or sour, musky or strange – on various people at various times. For another educated view on skin chemistry, see Victoria on her recent post on Bois de Jasmin (and so wonderful to see you back, V!)
Enough from me. The floor´s open. Your thoughts?
April 24, 2008
We gave y’all three scents to sniff, and we are posting your reviews on those scents. Y’all had a lot to say, so this was really fun for us to do!
Clinique Happy
- Am I going to hell if I say I like this fragrance? It’s cheerful. I always get compliments on it. It’s one of those summer scents that works if you want something undemanding and fun, like a gal-pal you don’t make plans with but always have a good time with, spending a Saturday morning window shopping.
- Happy is a harmless floral, best on a very young woman. Keep in mind that it doesn’t keep well; the citrus top notes fade with time.
- Once smelled this on a waitress at a local restaurant, and it smelled divine on her. But on me, Happy is not so, well, happy! It smells harsh, strong and chemical.
- I had the misfortune to try Clinique Happy in a Foley’s (back before Macy’s) when I was young and impressionable and was lead to believe that Clinique was an upscale makeup line…*shudder* My thoughts were somewhere between “Does this contain DEET?” to “The horror! The horror!” Nothing but mosquite repellant.
- Pretty and inoffensive. I smell a not-quite-realistic orange (more like powdered orange drink mix) and some sweet, clear florals (freesia?). It reminded me of something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on…and then it came to me. Bond No. 9′s new Union Square! Not exactly the same, but very similar in style. Plus Tang.
- Soapy, shower fresh scent. Easily wearable. I’m kind of over this one, but I don’t dislike it, it’s just that I used to like it much more.
- orange. If you want to be a giant orange…
- I dislike the initial fakey blast but once it settles down it’s very pretty, milky skin scent is really pleasant.
Clinique Aromatics Elixir
- For 20+ years I’ve tried to love this fragrance. I hate it. Picked up a bottle of Pure Parfum (perfect condition) last week at an estate sale for a whopping 30 cents. Sprayed just a touch in the air just inside the front door. THANK GOD it was a warm day. Fans going for an hour, with all the windows open….me outside. El O came home and said “wow! the house smells nice!”. Proof that there is something for everyone.
- Why spend a zillion bucks on Tom Ford Moss Breches when there’s Aromatics Elixir, its original? Be sure you give this only to someone who can carry a strong chypre. Someone gave my then-eighty-year-old mother a set, and it was just loud perfume overload.
- I used to hate this one, because it smelled so overpowering on everyone who wore it. But I discovered a secret: Just one spritz to the chest will do. It lasts all day, and smells like a fine French fragrance. It does, it really does!
- I have never hated a perfume as much as I hate Clinique’s Aromatics Elixir. Since I sold Clinique way back when, I HAD to wear it at the counter and I thought I would die. Anytime I read that something else smells like AE, I automatically know that I will hate it to death.
- I’m glad that I gave this one a good, long try. On a paper strip, it always seemed rather rough and scary. But on my skin, it turns into a smooth, velvety, classic chypre. It’s herby and casually sophisticated in a finely-tailored-tweed-suit sort of way.
- Hard core. This is a scent for people who want to announce their arrival with a megaphone. I hadn’t tried this in a really long time and it blew me away. There is a lot going on in this one. This screams 70′s all the way. There are some massive flowers in there (ylang ylang and jasmine, tuberose) that along with the oakmoss (and some really green notes too) really overwhelm. This is not a fragrance for the faint hearted. Bottom line, it’s a classy hippie scent that really makes a statement, but I would never wear it. Actually, I did put it on my wrist, but I was not happy.
- Harsh vetiver, florals barely discernible. When this is compared to Montale’s Vetiver Oriental, it’s enough to make you weep for the abuse of the note.
- I love Aromatics Elixir! I’ve worn it off and on since it was introduced in the early 70′s. My nose isn’t capable of defining each individual component of the fragrance but on me, the patchouli note is the most predominant. My friend also wears it; on her the rose and jasmine comes forward and it is much sweeter. I get undertones of that softness too.
- I’m very happy with my sophisticated chypre and tend to wear it when I want to feel “tailored,” whether I’m wearing clothes for the office or jeans.
- This will never appeal to me no matter how many times I smell it. Its astringent, green twiggy, herbal quality smells to me like an treatment for poison ivy.
Tommy Hilfiger Tommy Girl
nose image: etc.usf.edu
Patty
March
