By Nava

My cousin T* always used to say she was “allergic to stupidity.” This was a woman whose house alarm code was the numeric equivalent of the word “genius” and was the most outspoken person I’ve ever known. Unfortunately, she succumbed to breast cancer 3 years ago after a valiant 12-year fight. She wasn’t what I would call a devoted fragrance lover, but she loved to wear Diorissimo on occasion. Towards the end of her battle, the various medications and chemotherapy treatments she endured killed her taste buds, but ironically ratcheted up her sense of smell. She developed a serious intolerance to most things scented, and let everyone know just how sensitive her nose had become.

While I was staying with her, the complaints would range from the scent of my shampoo, deodorant, and she even made a comment about my unsavory fragrance one morning, upon returning to her house from the gym. I felt like the Peanuts character “Pig Pen”: you know, the kid who was always dressed in dirty clothes and enveloped in his own personal cloud of filth. I had to replace all the scented toiletries I was using with unscented alternatives, and wearing perfume was completely out of the question. Even the Diorissimo was off limits. I cannot even imagine how horrible this must have been – to not be able to taste the very nourishment needed to keep strong in the face of insidious disease, and to have every scent in your midst mercilessly assault your nose. It is my hope that future cancer treatments will be more easily tolerated; that is, until a cure can be found. No one should have to suffer the way my beloved cousin did.

Cancer patients are by no means the only segment of the population who are sometimes unable to withstand powerful odors. Fragrance-related allergies are becoming more common, but who among us can say they have never been trapped in an elevator or other close quarters with someone (men, you are by no means exempt here), who has OD’d on the eau d’whatever? I bring this up because I recently had the misfortune of exposure to some fellow fitness enthusiasts at my gym, who were bathed in overpowering fragrances. These were not the scents of strenuous workouts; I can deal with those. I know for certain that my own personal brand doesn’t smell anything like roses.

Why is it that some individuals feel the need to saturate themselves with liberal dousings of Angel or Chanel No. 5 before embarking on a 30 minute stint on the elliptical trainer? Is it not common knowledge that body heat elevates anything scented that happens to be on the skin? Or, is this a secret only fragrance aficionados are privy to? I know a very lovely woman whose husband plays ice hockey, and when she washes his gear, uses at least twice the recommended amount of scented fabric softener to counteract the stench of his garments. I have taken to referring to him as “April Fresh”, unbeknownst to her, of course. But, the smell is unmistakable. I’m somewhat surprised that none of his teammates have commented on his waft, since the odor of game-worn hockey equipment is anything but fresh smelling. Hey, if no one else minds, then I am content to remain mute. Good thing his last name doesn’t happen to be “Downy”.

As for my fellow gym-rats: STOP! Stop trying to mask the smell of your unwashed bodies with liberal applications of scent! Or, if you’re an après-work workout devotee, please go easy on the eau before showing up at the gym. I prefer my workouts in the morning, but there are plenty of occasions when I partake in a late-day session if it is more convenient. I don’t think I can comment with any accuracy which time is worse: morning or evening. It doesn’t matter how loud I crank up the volume on my iPod, or how far away I am from the offending individual; once my nose hones in on whatever it smells, all bets are off. I have yet to confront anyone, but I’ve come pretty close on more than one occasion. No offense intended to those who wear the scents I’ve mentioned, but please keep in mind that there are certain times and places where no scent is better than the most minuscule applications of those scents I used as examples. We’re all going to wear what we love, but we need to try to be more mindful of when we wear it.

*I wrote this to honor the memory of my cousin T.L., whose last bottle of Diorissimo I bought for her. What remains of that bottle, I wear every year on March 6, the anniversary of her death.

As a side note, I’m a little more rushed these days than usual - I’m sure y’all have noticed.  Getting ready for Harry’s graduation, too busy at work, plus doing all the last-minute planning/details for our Europe trip is taking its toll.  So indulge me until I get long plane and train rides to sniff things and write posts!  The Time Fairy is just kicking my butt right now.

Random thought for this post - being a smart person, I did get one of those portable GPS systems for Europe.  None of the cheap rental cars I rented had them, and it makes me nervous driving in a foreign country with only us (three ADHD/OCD peeps) to navigate. Yeah, exactly!  :::: shudder ::::  Other details include finishing up with my French I and Italian I lessons, drawing up the full itinerary and distributing it to everyone, none of who will pay any attention to it and will be looking at me to navigate for three weeks, making sure we have our European cell phones, train reservation tickets, and contemplating how light I can pack and still be dressed.  Ideas?

And what scents am I wearing now that spring is here, even though we get the occasional snow?  Tea, tea, tea.   Hermessence Osmanthe Yunnan for the high end, Au the Blanc and Au the Vert from Bvlgari for the low end, but the occasional spritz of CdG Tea just to make things interesting.

But let’s indulge you and say Le Banc has made a mistake in your favor to the tune of $1500.  You can spend it on one or many frivolous items. You may not spend it on bills or rent or mortgage or school.  It must be something just for you, and you may not buy anything for anyone else as a gift.  What would you get?  This can be perfume, shoes, clothes, makeup, whatever!

First, it’s official: the ChiCocoa Scentsation will be Saturday, SEPTEMBER 13 — that’s the date most people can come. Mark your calendars! Okay, on to today’s post –

For someone who does a lot of yapping about my alleged restraint in buying bottles (as opposed to hoarding samples) I’ve had to start rotating my fragrances seasonally in order to find anything. Of course there are things I wear year round, but a certain amount of my scent is pretty much summer/winter only, so it moves in and out of my closet with the bathing suits and wool sweaters.

Fragrance rotation also forces me to dust everything, which is necessary, even if it isn’t fun. Every time I do this, though, I run across fragrances I never wear. I bought them. I liked them enough that I didn’t immediately move them to the swap pile. So why don’t they wind up on my skin? Part of the reason might be I can’t remember what they smell like.

I grabbed three forgotten scents randomly to try and unravel the mystery, with some history …

Fendi Asja. I bought this unsniffed because the price was right and I like Fendi Theorema so much. Notes (which give you a sense of its kitchen-sink Oriental complexity): bergamot, peach, apricot, raspberry, Bulgarian rose, ylang-ylang, Egyptian jasmine, nutmeg, cinnamon, mimosa, lily of the valley, honey, carnation, orchid, vanilla, sandalwood, cedar, musk, benzoin, balsamic styrax and amber. It’s a sweet, spicy fragrance with a vanilla-woods drydown. Somewhere out there is a review by someone (who? I know you know) that compares a particular fragrance to the smell of warm radiators – that scentless scent of dusty, baked house air. I grew up with radiators and I love that smell. Anyway, they weren’t talking about Asja but they could be – to me it smells something like Cinnabar parfum with a heavy dose of hot radiator accord. It is gorgeous – sensual, but more the warm embrace of Tocade than the leg-humping lasciviousness of Opium. While I love Asja in theory, and find it strangely comforting, it just never seems to be something I reach for. Analyzing this, I want it to be a comfort scent – a blue jeans thing I wear to the grocery store – but the rest of the fragrance is as grown up as a ball gown. The bluejeans/ball gown tension means I never quite feel like it’s the right occasion for Asja. Great bottle. ADDENDUM: wore it over two miserably wet, cold days recently, trying to figure out why I never wear it. It is the PERFECT wear-around-the-house crappy weather comfort scent.

Alexander McQueen Kingdom EDT: Notes of bergamot, neroli, jasmine, ginger, cumin, patchouli, copahu wood, vanilla, myrrh, sandalwood. I smelled the EDP and the EDT on my UK trip and, fab as the famed EDP is, there are limits to how many startling cumin scents I need. The EDT is an entirely different proposition. While the notes I find listed online are the same, the scent is essentially a musky floral summer-weight scent, not a cumin bomb. So why haven’t I been wearing it? Well… that heart-shaped bottle (instead of the wedge-of-alien-fruit EDP flacon) lays flat, it’s big, and it wobbles around on its side. At some point I got nervous/irritated by its sneaky moves and stuck it in a drawer, at which point it ceased to exist. Smelling it again, my first thought was I made a mistake – I went for the safe choice and lost. Having said that, it does not fall into any of the summer stereotypes – it is not a citrusy thing, or fresh, or a fruity-floral. The cumin emerges in the drydown, but even then it is very subdued. It’s a strange scent, a dry floral with some of the salty muskiness of Eau de Merveilles. I have put it on my shelf in plain sight, and look forward to trying it in the summer heat – assuming the summer heat ever gets here – to see if it grows on me.

Paul & Joe Bleu. I swapped away the P&J White eons ago, unable to deal with the hawthorn, but I kept this – it’s an oriental, notes are bergamot, coriander, caraway, cardamom, cumin, ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, magnolia, heliotrope, sandalwood, oud, patchouli, myrrh, vanilla, and musk, created by Pierre Bourdon in 2003. I googled it and can’t find anything, it seems to have fallen off the face of the earth – it’s not even on eBay, and I think they had them by the dozens back in the day at Anthropologie, where I bought it – and cheap, too. And too bad it’s gone, because really, it’s a nice fragrance. Somewhere between the vanillic haze of Shalimar Lite and a honking dose of patchouli to unsweeten things, Bleu does an interesting fifteen-minute lateral shift from feminine powdery florals to masculine woody tobacco, and I would love to smell this on a man. The spices are much more muted than you’d suspect from the list, contributing to the overall richness of the scent rather than calling attention to themselves on an individual basis.

Why don’t I wear this? On me, this registers as Serious Perfume. For those occasions I reach for either Mitsouko or Jicky. But it doesn’t smell like either of those, and it’s not so pervasive. On the other hand, it’s not so long lasting, either, and it gets a bit thin. I’ll try to work it into the rotation.

Anything on your shelf that you like in theory but it’s been languishing for so long you can’t quite remember what it smells like? And how come you aren’t wearing it?

Few things in life are more disappointing than expecting one perfect thing and getting the exact wrong thing.   Consider the gorgeous shoes above.  That’s what I was expecting, perfectly sized up to accommodate for a narrow Christian Louboutin toe box.  What I got was a pair of Dolce & Gabanna leopard print shoes with some freaky little bow on top.  I guess they were okay shoes, if leopard print shoes suited me at all, but they don’t. I’m the furthest thing from a leopard print shoe girl you can find.  So when I opened my box and saw those instead of my classy little black and red CLs, my brain almost melted down… did not compute.  How did my cute little shoes turn into hooker shoes?  A phone call later, I found out the size I thought would work best in the CLs was then gone, and I had to go down a half a size, and now I’m crossing my fingers that that size will fit. If not… bleah.  Back they’ll go while I wait and hope the cute little Rolando style eventually comes back in stock or I find a pair while I’m in Italy.

Speaking of disappointments, I have to just bitch a little about the Givenchy Incense that got a great review in Perfumes: The Guide.  I was expecting something great, and it started off great, with a floral fougerey incense mojo that felt perfect for men or women, and then it veered off into a perfectly nice men’s scent, but not terribly entertaining.  Where in the world was the “melancholy and mystery” the review promised?

My brother, the requestor of the Sam Elliott sampler pack was also supposed to report in on a few of the scents… and another disappointment -I got zip from him.  I know he’s liked everything so far that he’s sniffed, with his favorites being the Tom of Finland, Montale Black Oud, and Ormonde Jayne Ormonde Man.  Just goes to show you, good taste does run in the family.

Anyway, I have decided that I need to start wearing high heels again after a couple of decades of flats and flip-flops.  So now I wear my Jimmy Choos around the house for 15-30 minutes at a time and my Gucci FM mules for maybe 5 minutes at a time (these things kill in more ways than one).  Is this the best way to get back into high heels, or do our feet age to the point that it just doesn’t work anymore?  My feet, so far, are turning into another disappointment, which I’m hoping I can change for the better.

That teeny girl with my sister Shirley in the picture to the right, I love taking pictures of her because she could care less if you’re snapping pictures because she is so in the moment every second of her waking life.  She was born months premature and was this tiny, tiny little thing you could hold in one hand five years ago.  Two-thre years ago, she went through a bad time with her mom, and when she came back home, she was withdrawn and silent.  She has a great father and family who surrounded her with love, and the broken places healed, and the curtain of silence lifted.  Listening to her peels of laughter and her jumping into my arms with an ear-shattering ”I’ve MISSED you!!!” reminds you that life, no matter the disappointment, always finds joy.

Okay, your assignment for next Monday – hey, why should I do all the work?!? No, seriously, I like to read your responses. So – the assignment, suggested by Maria last week (and with a nod to Now Smell This, who just did something similar on Friday): it has come to our attention in the blogosphere that many of you have made sniffing expeditions and/or unsniffed purchases based on The Guide. Also, Patty says anecdotal evidence from The Perfumed Court suggests that people are sampling highly-rated fragrances. I’d like a report next Monday on how your sniffage/blind buys worked out for you. Alternately, tell me about your latest foray or unsniffed purchase prompted by a review that I or another blogger did. Next Monday, don’t forget!

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris – I love that bottle. I love Guerlain. I love fig. I’m fond of iris. This would seem tailor-made for me, and yet it’s a disappointment. Notes are bergamot, grapefruit, iris, fig, violet, milky notes, woods, vetiver and vanilla. The light milky fig (along the lines of BBW Brown Sugar and Fig) meets the Guerlain powdery heliotrope and then the fig mostly disappears after ten minutes. I drenched it on the second and third times – I’m talking my whole arm, wet – and still it didn’t stick around long. What’s left is like “An Impression of” the Guerlain powdery-heliotrope base. An Impression of Guerlain Meteorites, I guess? The drydown, once the powder fades, is kind of woody and interesting, like Kenzo Tokyo in the first 90 seconds before it implodes into a crappy fresh scent. If we’d skipped some of the powder, I’d be happy, but this is just too much powder and not enough interest for me.

Aqua Allegoria Laurier Reglisse - and this one surprised me in the opposite way – by pleasing me quite a bit. I’m not wild for anise, but this one is refreshing – notes of bergamot, orange blossom, licorice, bay laurel, woods, violet, galbanum and amber. The licorice is bright rather than candied and is pretty much gone after the first three minutes on me, leaving a not-particularly-sweet, leafy green woody smell that I think would be just the ticket in the summer heat. Nice – I might buy this on discount. Lasting power is so-so, and if I’m saying that, me of the scent-grabbing skin, I wonder what normal people get – five minutes?

Let me say again: I love Sephora. In addition to an increasing number of small bottles for less than $50, this last visit yielded a $50 four-bottle gift set containing Prada regular, Intense, Tendre and Homme. How great is that?

Moschino Cheap & Chic I Love Love (in the orange and blue Olive Oyl bottle) is sort of like D&G Light Blue, only more floral and even more appealing to me, and I like Light Blue. It’s Light Blue’s more gracious older sister. If you like Light Blue in theory, but after two hours its pervasive Light-Blue-ness starts to work your last nerve, you might want to consider trying this. Notes are grapefruit, orange, lemon, redcurrant, tea rose, muguet, cinnamon leaves, musk, cedar, tonka wood, created by Olivier Cresp in 2004. Every time I sniff it I wonder, why don’t I own this thing? And then I remember why an hour later, because my only complaint is it gets a little sweeter than I like in the drydown, although it’s not so sweet by mainstream standards. I am crazy for that bottle, though, and if I run across some cheap I’ll probably buy it. In the meantime, I sniffed the new one, Hippy Fizz, and come on – look at that bottle — based solely on appearances, I don’t even care what it smells like, I want it. Notes are: raspberry, rose, violet leaves, magnolia, lotus, cedar and oakmoss. I’ll take their word for the cedar and oakmoss – on me it is the sweet, fruity floral you’d expect from the first five notes. In terms of artistic merit, Hippy Fizz is the fragrance equivalent of Pez, or Sour Patch Kids candy – and be honest, don’t you ever want a mouthful of Pez instead of a mouthful of, I don’t know, organic, fair-trade shade-grown artisanal dark chocolate? I know I do. I couldn’t pick it out of a lineup, it could just as easily be one of the Escada summer LEs, it’s a little fresh on me.

Finally, there was Oscar Fresh Vanilla for Women, which I tried at Bloomie’s and which she assured me was a special Limited Addition and Very Rare and I better buy it now or I’ll never see it again! Notes are: bergamot, blackcurrant, rose, marshmallow, orange blossom, vanilla, Peru balsam, musk. When I looked online I realized there have been a whole series of these Oscar things I’ve never seen – bamboo, pink lily, citrus, mocha chip, etc. Okay, not mocha chip.

Marshmallow. Marshmallow, for Pete’s sake. Honestly, though? It was kind of fun – it smells like a marshmallow you’ve toasted on a stick until it’s nicely browned, so it loses some sweetness and has a bit of that burnt smell – with a musky finish. It’s like Demeter did a scent called Toasted Marshmallow (you could layer it with Bonfire!), or CdG added it to their Sweet series. I know, I know. I must be losing my marbles. Off to apply Kolnisch Juchten to regain my senses.

PS For Mother’s Day my darling children gave me various items they made lovingly by hand in their art classes. I gave myself that Stuart Weitzman purse in the photo up there. I’ve coveted their shoes in that particular, iconic color – Red Quasar, a pearlized lipstick red – for years, but the shoes are usually either flats or 4-inch heels, and I want something in between. Then I saw the purse and knew: It Was Destiny.

I was unable to make it to the Sniffapalooza 2008 Spring Fling, but I did go on a sniffing expedition last week in New York City with a couple of lovely friends from makeupalley.com. One of the fragrances I was determined to sample was Guerlain’s Mitsouko, after reading and listening to Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez wax rhapsodic about how it is, in their opinions, the most spectacular perfume in existence.

I preordered Perfumes: The Guide from amazon.com back in January after reading about it online. I must first say that I’ve admired Luca Turin since reading Chandler Burr’s The Emperor of Scent and Mr. Turin’s now defunct blog. I wasn’t necessarily interested in what he was saying about specific perfumes; I greatly admired his writing style and his ability to describe scents in ways I cannot, no matter how many cups of coffee I drink or how many synonyms I look up in my trusty thesaurus. His style is so effortless, it seems like the words just come tumbling out like ice cubes from the fridge dispenser. I’ve written a great many essays and research papers over the course of the past 8 years spent earning my Bachelors and Masters degrees in English Literature, and when I look back at some of them, including one that I wrote last year that a professor enthusiastically suggested I try to publish, I wonder: where the hell did these come from? I have no idea how I ever wrote them, let alone got decent grades for them. And then it hit me: the grades are just as subjective as the papers, given that they are read and graded by different individuals, just like the perfumes Turin and Sanchez were either loving or hating in their book. This thought stayed with me the entire time I was sniffing my way through Manhattan. Now, I will recount some loves, hates and disappointments, bearing in mind that these are my opinions, and not those of any other individual.

We started the day at Barney’s and I was intent on purchasing a bottle of the newly re-issued Nana de Bary Green, which I love, but was deprived of most of my last bottle by the silly bulb atomizer. Bulb atomizers are evil little things and should not ever be used, even when spraying pesticides. I lost about three-quarters of this wonderful crisp-green spicy scent to evaporation. The other scent I was hot on the trail of was Serge Lutens’ newest export, Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre. I’ve read all the tepid reviews, but since you all now know what a Serge hound I am, I was intent on loving it. And, it is spectacular on me: lots of smoky tea, honey and tart ginger. I’d love to layer this with Fumerie Turque, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to open my bell jar…
From Barney’s we made a quick stop at the Hermes boutique across the street. I was curious about the newest Hermessence scent, Brin de Reglisse. I love lavender and black licorice, but not necessarily in concert with each other. Sadly, this was all black licorice on me, and I wasn’t about to spend $200 to smell like a bag of Nibs. I also wanted to give Osmanthe Yunnan a whirl, since I adore Parfum d’Empire’s Osmanthus Interdite. That one too, was a bit disappointing. On me, Osmanthus Interdite has much more depth and personality. In addition, the only Hermessence that has any tenacity on my skin is Ambre Narguilé, which I love. My other favorite, Rose Ikebana, is gorgeous, but disappears much too quickly.

Our next stop was Bergdorf Goodman, home of the venerable Guerlain boutique and countless other delightful and expensive brands. I used to work in this area of Manhattan years ago, and I remember when the cosmetics department at Bergdorf’s consisted of maybe half a dozen small counters, and a fragrance area that was tucked into an out-of-the-way corner you’d surely miss if you didn’t know it was there. Their current beauty floor is paradise with one caveat: some overly aggressive sales associates who tend to swarm like mosquitoes over a puddle of stagnant water. In my experience, the fragrance-hawkers are pretty soft-sell compared to the makeup and skin care brigade, who attempt to club you over the head and drag you away to their respective counters. Something tells me they’re not selling as many $1300 vats of Crème de la Mer as they once were.

Before we approached the Guerlain boutique, we stopped to smell the new Chanel Exclusif, Sycomore. I must reveal that I have never been particularly fond of any Chanel scents, especially No. 5 (Turin’s and Sanchez’s other 5-star favorite). But there are actually a few of the Exclusif scents I like: No. 18, Bel Respiro and especially Coromandel. No. 5 has never worked for me in any incarnation, even the new Eau Premiere, which starts off bright and citrusy, but dries down to, well, the original No.5. I liked Sycomore instantly, even though I was experiencing mutiny on my skin between the previous scents I’d tested. I was pretty sure I wanted to buy it, but wanted to wait until after I deliberated on Mitsouko.

At the Guerlain boutique I asked for a spritz of Mitsouko Eau de Parfum, as well as the Eau de Toilette. I elected to stay away from the Parfum in the event that I would react violently to it. One usually does not want to toss one’s cookies at the feet of just anyone, particularly in the upscale setting that is Bergdorf’s. Conveniently, the bathrooms are located mere steps from Guerlain, but I still did not want to take a chance.

Mitsouko EDT did not last very long on me – I didn’t get much from it except for the peach note Turin and Sanchez spoke of, and alcohol. It literally disappeared in minutes. The EDP was another story: it camped out on the back of my left hand, built a fire and was still smoldering the next morning before I finally showered it off. The verdict: not me; unless I were to throw out every single pair of my jeans, every t-shirt, every pair of comfortable shoes and decide to stock my wardrobe with Chanel suits, pillbox hats, white gloves, lady-like pumps and go for high tea every afternoon at 4 o’ clock. I am just not the Mitsouko kind of woman.

Wardrobe and lifestyle issues aside, I do appreciate Mitsouko on a different level; it truly is a beautiful scent. Unlike the many aldehyde and chypre scents I normally avoid, the EDP in all its glory never gave me a headache or offended me so that I couldn’t wait to scrub it off. I even asked the opinion of an especially pushy Bergdorf sales associate, who I unintentionally let wreck my less-than-a-week-old manicure with an Yves San Laurent Beauté nail polish pen. I bet if Mitsouko was an YSL fragrance, she would have tried to sell me a gallon of it. I think her opinion was something to the effect of, “It is beautiful, but it’s not you.” And, I never bought that ridiculous nail polish pen. However, I did go back to Bergdorf’s later on that day to snag the very last bottle of Sycomore. Despite it being a Chanel scent, it’s much more “me” than Mitsouko will ever be.

From Bergdorf’s it was on to Henri Bendel. I have been longing to try Isabel Capeto’s first fragrance since reading Patty’s glowing review of it. I must defer to her description from her post back on January 7 of this year (More NYC – Part II), and agree that it is wearable without being generic and that bottle is just the bee’s knees. Since Patty’s review, there is now Isabel Capeto Perfume II in a white bottle identical to the red one. Unfortunately, the second scent is nowhere near as good as the first one; I was afraid to test it on my skin after smelling it on the scent strip: it was the very frightening scent of grapefruit juice gone bad. Unless you happen to enjoy an exceptionally bitter citrus scent – think bitterness that surpasses Frederic Malle’s Bigarade Concentrée, stay far, far away from this one.

By the time I’d doused myself in Isabel Capeto and sniffed a few more of the Memoire Liquide scents that I had the opportunity to sample (and buy) at a Sniffapalooza preview event last year (Mystique and Soixante-Six are woody-hippie fabulous), I started getting heavy-duty nasal fatigue. While my cohorts were still busy sniffing away, I was mostly snorting the jar of coffee beans in the L’Artisan Parfumeur alcove. Granted, I was the most enthusiastic sampler, having at least half a dozen scents lingering on my skin. That’s the problem I think every serious scent aficionado faces on a regular basis. You sniff and spray, collecting those paper scent strips like playing cards, manage to keep a poker face for as long as humanly possible, until you reach that breaking point when your nasal passages cry “uncle” and you can no longer handle any more new smells. I don’t care what anyone says, but even a prolonged snort of the most potent coffee beans can’t stave off nasal fatigue after too many hours of serious sniffing. I think the heavy-duty rose in Etat Libre d’Orange’s Rossy de Palma scent did me in. Although their Tom of Finland scent, which I inadvertently kept calling “Tom of Maine”, with its clean, dry cedary goodness, left me another $90 lighter. And, many thanks to my dear friend M for buying me the coveted bottle of Isabel Capeto for my upcoming birthday.

After Bendel’s, we headed across the street to Takashimaya. At that point, I felt like someone locked me away in that Frederic Malle sniffing booth at Barney’s. My feet were killing me and despite the copious coffee bean-snorting, my nose was still staging a revolt. In Tak, the only scents I was interested in were the Neil Morris ones. A lot of people in the blogosphere and on the chat boards are raving about his extensive collection of scents, but the ones that I’ve smelled have been a bit disappointing. I remember meeting him at the Sniffapalooza 2007 Spring Fling, and thinking he was a very nice guy, but the few scents of his that I sampled were not very inspiring. I re-visited his scent, Clear, at Tak and felt the same way a year later. His range is so extensive; it would take weeks to evaluate all of them; someday, maybe, when my nose is not quite as tortured.

When my friends and I embarked on our fragrant journey, I was sure it would not be as exhausting as the Sniffapalooza extravaganza tends to be. I have yet to participate in both days consecutively since I am usually comatose by the end of the first one; my kudos to all the ladies and gentlemen who manage to make it though both. Maybe my close proximity to New York City has something to do with my lack of stamina. I am lucky in that I can hop on a train or in my car and be at Bergdorf’s doorstep, or any number of fragrant establishments, in under an hour.

As for my “suggestions”, I will conclude by saying that perfume, whether it is thought to be good or bad, is an intensely subjective and personal endeavor, just like art and literature. What Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez happen to like or love might not be what I like or love. Suggestions are just that; there are no hard and fast rules, and it is up to you, the individual, to interpret them as you see fit. I didn’t get an “A” on every paper I wrote as a student, and I never expect everyone to agree with every single one of my opinions. The beauty of life, whether we go through it fragrantly or not, is that we have the ability to make choices. We celebrate our individuality with the choices we make, and it is ultimately our very personal decision to ignore suggestions or consider them. Please, feel free to tell me to stick mine where the sun doesn’t shine. To that, I will always say thank you.

Join us in Chicago this fall for an incredible, decadent day of fragrance and the Universe’s favorite food: CHOCOLATE!

Patty and March from Perfume Posse will be with us as we spritz, sniff and sample our way through some of Chicago’s finest fragrance departments and boutiques, with many stops to sample chocolate, throughout the day!

Special Guests: Neil Morris!! Liz Zorn!!! They’ll both be at the Event to showcase their magnificent fragrance lines. Times and places to be determined.

This informal gathering on Saturday, September 13 (or 20), will feature stops at L’Artisan, Chanel, Barneys New York, Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman-Marcus, CO Bigelow, Nordstrom — and more.

OKAY, PEOPLE – we need your feedback, do you have a preference between Sept. 13 and 20? For your information, the NYC Sniffapalooza is tentatively scheduled for the end of October, so you can do both.

Some of the perfumes we’ll explore include:

Creed, Caron, Hanae Mori, Chanel Les Exclusifs, Hermes, Amouage, Keiko Mecheri, Parfums Delrae, Guerlain, Frederick Malle, Serge Lutens

And don’t forget CHOCOLATE! We’ll pause for lunch at foodlife®, where we will enjoy a special perfume presentation! foodlife® is a global culinary experience, with lots of food options and an incredible dessert bar! And if that’s not enough CHOCOLATE for you, we’ll visit the charming Sarah’s on Oak Street, as well as Ethel’s Chocolate Lounge in the Nordstrom building.

For the serious chocolate addict there are other fun destinations like Ghirardelli’s and Hershey’s on the Water Tower Square….then it’s on to more perfume!

This event is for anyone who is interested in learning more about perfume…or just wants to enjoy a scented, chocolatey weekend with friends! Everyone is welcome but we do need an RSVP to make decisions about how much space we need for certain events. Please contact us via email: chicocoascentsation (at) gmail (dot) com to reserve your lunch and event space. We will be providing a detailed itinerary as we get closer to the date but please note that this really is an informal event, not a forced march – you choose the shops you want to visit and the lines you want to sample and you can catch up with us anywhere during the day. Don’t forget: space must be reserved if you wish to be included in our lunch seating and perfume presentation. RSVP attendees will also be included in our great giveaway drawings. We’re also planning a blind fragrance swap among registered guests – bring a wrapped bottle of perfume (slightly used is okay) to swap!

There will also be perfume opportunities off Michigan Avenue on Sunday, 14/21 September, as well as some interesting non-perfume options.

Saturday’s event will be a walking event from Oak Street to the Michigan Avenue Bridge, so watch those stilettos! – for those with physical considerations, we will be happy to try to accommodate your requirements. All events will have some seating and every store/boutique we will visit will be less than a 5 minute cab ride to our next destination.

For more information please watch this space.

Date: 13 September 2008 OR 20 September 2008

Time: 10a – 6p with possible fun ‘n frolic after the Tour

Meet at: 900 N. Michigan Avenue Lobby (Michigan and Delaware)

Cost: There will be a nominal charge to cover events, possibly including a get-together on Friday night and/or brunch Sunday. We will finalize and announce the cost ASAP.

Meals: We will be offering a perfume presentation at foodlife® on Saturday in the Water Tower Place; lunch is an individual mealcard/pay, reservations are necessary. Please RSVP to: chicocoascentsation (at) gmail (dot) com

Fun: You betcha!

There is now a Chi-Cocoa Scentsation Forum in the Message Board link in the upper left column. Here is another link to the Message Board. We’ll be posting this and further notices in there, and you can use the message board to troll for potential roommates, travel companions, etc. We’ll make announcements on here and then post them on the Scentsation Forum.

Contact/RSVP email: chicocoascentsation (at) gmail (dot) com

Special thanks to Musette, Shelley and other volunteers for making this happen!

Hotel Info: Here are some suggestions for lodgings on and near the Mag Mile. Anyone with any other hotel information, please feel free to share it with the Posse and any/all attendees. All of these are within walking distance of either the beginning or the end of our Day.

North end of Mag Mile:

The Drake Hotel www.thedrakehotel.com
The Four Seasons www.fourseasons.com
Ritz-Carlton www.fourseasons.com/chicagorc
Peninsula www.chicago.peninsula.com
The Whitehall www.thewhitehallhotel.com
The Tremont www.starwoodhotels.com
The Westin Michigan Avenue
The Park Hyatt www.parkchicago.hyatt.com

Mid-Mag Mile (several hotels just off Mich Ave):
Allerton Hotel www.thealltertonhotel.com
Guest Quarters www.clubquarters.com
The James www.jameshotels.com
Hilton Garden
Embassy Suites www.suiteschicago.com
Mariott (Nordstrom’s building) www.mariott.com
Hotel Sax (Marina City) hotelsaxchicago.com (formerly House of Blues)

Across the Bridge:
Monaco www.monaco-chicago.com

I dropped the Big Cheese off at the airport yesterday for his trip to Thailand, China — and Burma. The devastation from Sunday’s cyclone (15,000 dead was the last count I read) changes his plans, but he’s not sure how yet. He has friends in Yangon, and the already limited communications are down. He’s going to get to BKK and see if he can bring something in (medicines, medical supplies) that might help, and try to discern whether his presence there for the cleanup would be a help or a hindrance. He’d like to help. Whenever I stick him on one of those planes and drive off I always get this weird feeling, like I’ve looked down and discovered one of my arms has gone missing. He loves Asia, and I could no more ask him to stay home than I could ask him to stop breathing. But still.

Since I was out there in that neck of the woods I figured I might as well stop at the Hermes Boutique and smell Un Jardin Apres La Mousson, the newest in the Jardin series. I like the other two a lot, but was not sure what to expect with this one. I have been fascinated by how much the responses and reviews have varied – folks are all over the place with their comments about Mousson. I can’t think of the last time something had such a wide range of descriptions – maybe SL Chypre Rouge?

Mousson’s notes are cardamom, coriander, pepper, ginger and vetiver accord. I had the SA at Hermes spritz my arm (they were “out of samples,” natch) and waited. The top is all about the spices – the cardamom, coriander and pepper, combined with the sharp heat of ginger, are astonishing. I’ve read several complaints about its being sort of wan and watery, and standing there sniffing those bits I was baffled – it is strong on me, bone dry and in its own peculiar way, quite lovely.

I still had my nose stuck to my wrist in thought when WHOMP!!! – the arrival of the (unlisted) aquatic melon accord dropped in. “Dropped in” as in, someone broke a freaking melon over my head. I kid you not, I startled the SA with my muffled scream – it was not clear to me before that moment how utterly nasty I find that smell. My stomach lurched and I jerked my head back and beat a hasty retreat from the store.

I actually contemplated scrubbing it, that’s just how horrifying it is, but stuck it out. And let me tell you, you people owe me for this one. If there is a hell, it definitely has a melon accord. On Now Smell This recently, a commenter coined the term “fruital” for brutally fruity. Mousson is one of the most fruital fragrances I have smelled in recent memory.

Eventually (two hours?) the aquamelon starts to meld into what is a very soft, clean vetiver. Six hours later I can still smell it — aquamelonvetiver. Once it is gone from my arm, I never, ever want to smell it again. Your Mileage May Vary.

While I was out there I ran across Givenchy Vetyver, so I put that on my left hand, with Guerlain Vetiver on my right hand for comparison. They’re totally different – Guerlain is more like a cologne with a vetiver note, whereas Givenchy is pretty much a straight vetiver (vetiflore?). In The Guide LT gives it four stars and calls it “wonderfully straightforward” and a “quality vetiver.” I get almost zero development – a little zingy at the top, maybe some citrus, and then a pleasantly earthy, arid (dirt-like, not “dirty”) vetiver. I am not the queen of vetiver, but it’s really nice – there’s something about it that makes my mouth water — and you vetiver freaks might want to dig some up. I’ll take the Guerlain, thanks.

On my way out of the mall I experienced my second fragrance haunting in 24 hours – the air in the corridor all around me was infused with the smell of a perfume I recognized instantaneously but – maddeningly – could not place, like having a word on the tip of my tongue. I went back into Bloomingdales and sniffed around, looking for it. The second I smelled it, I knew – Dolce & Gabbana’s The One, with its distinctive warm, musky base. I like The One a lot, I’ll probably keep an eye peeled for a cheapie bottle next fall when it’ll feel right. I wonder if someone dropped one in the hallway?

And last night, in the middle of anxious dreams, I woke up to my first fragrance haunting – the reassuring smell from …. well, from when? It was a happy smell. What was that smell? Definitely a fragrance. I lay there in the dark, in the small hours, and contemplated it. Something a friend wore that I loved. Eventually I realized the smell of some random lotion I’d put on at bedtime had conjured my ghost, but what was the original scent? And then I remembered and it bloomed in front of me in the dark – Tatiana. Diane Von Furstenberg, I think Tatiana’s her daughter? Seriously, anyone on the planet remember that? Weird asymmetrical bottle? I should go google it and see if it exists. I feel a burst of joy just thinking about it. I remember it was really sweet and a little raspy and a little green. Jasmine? I have no idea. It’s probably total crap. Looks like they’ve got it on Beautyencounter for ten bucks. I don’t know, maybe I should leave my happy memory intact? Tonight, I’m hoping for the Ghost of Guerlains Past.

image of monks with umbrellas: traveltolao.com

First, winners for the sample of Musc Nomade from Annick Goutal:  Vida, Dusan and Marina!  Just hit the contact us over on the left, get me your snail mail address, and the sample shall be yours! 

You guys are always so super-helpful to me and everyone who reads us, so here I am to call on you again for some help.

My youngest son’s high school graduation is coming up soon.   This day is totally my youngest son’s day, but then I think… isn’t it a little bit of my day too?  We made it this far, and soon… too soon we’re going our separate ways. Him to find his life out there, and me to leap joyfully around my house that I’ll have to myself. But it just won’t be the same anymore when he’s not in my house every day, playing his guitar, serenading my life with his laughter, joy and music, nor will I have to worry about him when he takes my camera and tripod out until 1a for some night photography, nor will I be woken up by his big brother (who is moving out… again and for good… in July) scaring him at 2 a.m..  It will be so much fun to watch the life chooses, to let him find his own way through, but him going so soon after my oldest son moves back out is, well, a little weird and disconcerting, and I need the perfect scent for it.

It must be joyful, with a reach back into memory.  It must be full of love because he and his older brother carry my heart around in their bodies.  It must be strong so I won’t start weeping like a flipping idiot. I did threaten Harry that I was going to start sobbing inconsolably and very loudly just to embarrass him, and he laughed and said, “Bring it, it won’t bother me, that would be fun!”

So what perfume do you wear to celebrate the ending of my live-with-me mom years and the beginning of watching both of my little ducks go quacking off into whatever life they choose?  I’m leaning towards either Mitsouko vintage parfum or Diorling parfum.  The thoughts?

I think I have remarkably few bottles for a fragrance obsessive. I’m not going to name a number because (like sexual partners) no matter what I say, some of you would be horrified at the sheer wanton profligacy of my spending, while others of you would think, is that all she’s got? And she calls herself a perfume blogger. My general rule is, I have to work through a decant (assuming I can get one) before I buy a bottle. Since I already own more fragrance than I could wear in several lifetimes, I don’t “need” any more bottles.

But I continue to buy them. In the last four weeks I have bought:

A ginormous (quart? liter?) bottle of Muelhens 4711, because I’ve been wearing it since high school, my small bottle ran out last summer, and the local Perfumania had three sizes at deep, deep discount – I think I paid $18 for something that’s almost the size of a standard bottle of vodka. (Well, my standard. Your standards may be different.) I’ve never seen it there before and may never see it again. I told my Greek barber about my find and I am pretty sure he sent his wife over there to clean them out. One of my favorite things about his barbershop is the bottles of 4711 sitting on the counter in front of each chair, waiting to be splashed.

A bottle of KenzoAmour Indian Holi because rumor has it it’s an LE (which will probably turn out to be a lie), I thought it would make a cheerful, floral-incense alternative to my usual citrus summer fare, and I bought it from Gail, the long-suffering, lovely SA at the local Nordstrom who gives me tons of samples. Yup — paid full retail. Go ahead, laugh.

A bottle of Estee Lauder Bronze Goddess Eau Fraiche even though I have a generous decant I will probably never work through. I bought it because EL was having a really great Gift With Purchase thingy at Bloomies, and I love me a GWP. I cheerfully admit the lameness of my reasoning on this one.

Idole de Lubin, because right after I fell in love with it, it popped up on eBay. I only saved maybe 25 bucks off retail. If there’s something wrong with it (and often there is with frags on eBay) it won’t have been much of a bargain, will it?

L’Artisan Safran Troublant (the teeny bottle) because Patty bought the Epices coffret and mentioned she only wanted the Poivre and Piment, and I was getting ready to buy another decant.

Claude Montana Just Me – unsniffed purchase from online retailer, because LT said in The Guide (in his review of my beloved Worth Courtesan, which got three stars) that it was “reminiscent of the sadly discontinued Montana Just Me.” Hmmm. Well, they are similar in that both are fragrances for women, and the resemblance stops there. To my nose, Just Me is reminiscent of peppered toilet bowl cleaner. And not in a good way. Damn you, LT.

Jo Malone Dark Amber & Ginger Lily and JM Lotus Blossom & Water Lily – because they are (allegedly) LEs, and what if they run out??! Remember to tease me about this if/when they wind up in the regular line, and/or the supply goes on forever.

Okay, your turn! A little research, please, for my own nefarious purposes. Please tell me why you sprung for your last fragrance(s) – more precisely, why did you purchase it at that exact moment? (On sale, DWB {drunk while bidding}, rare fragrance opportunity, unsniffed purchase prompted by The Guide, pre-date fragrance emergency…) I’d also be interested in whether that was the first time you’d smelled it, you bought it unsniffed, or whether you’d been thinking about it for awhile. For example: my 4711 was a replacement bottle of a long-time favorite, the EL I’d already sniffed a couple times and decided I liked, and the Indian Holi was completely spontaneous impulse purchase the first time I’d smelled it.

* * *

Avon ad image from Corning Museum of Glass (cmog.org)

(hi, folks — here’s a guest post by Nava, a regular reader and contributor at Perfume Critic and Makeupalley, and a commenter at the Posse as well as other scented and unscented blogs. She lives in New York with her husband and cat, and loves to be a contrarian in her spare time.)

I am convinced the act of hoarding is hereditary. The female members of my immediate family have proven to be fine examples of this art of “collecting”. My maternal grandmother hoarded food; she survived the Great Depression after emigrating from Poland to Canada after World War I. In better times she also hoarded bed linens, table cloths and tea towels. We’re not talking cheap stuff, either. The finest Irish linen you could bargain for on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, purchased during a time when you could bargain for such things. Unfortunately, I never got to witness my grandmother in all her bargaining-mode glory, but I did see all her purchases come tumbling out of the hall closet after her death when I was 9 years-old. As my mother cleaned out her apartment, she could not bear to part with all the pristine linens that never graced a bed or table. Since my mom’s passing, they now reside carefully stored in my attic, along with other family treasures. But the hoarding did not end there.

I have a Serge Drawer. Yes, a drawer that contains nothing but Serge Lutens fragrances. My drawer is not part of a girly, organza-skirted vanity table or antique armoire; it is one nondescript drawer of a 17 year-old Ikea pressboard dresser that I bought when I moved into my first apartment. I used to keep underwear in this particular drawer. It is a top drawer after all. But now it houses 15 export bottles and 23 bell jars, all of them still shrink-wrapped and just as pristine as my grandmother’s 50 year-old linens. I cannot bring myself to unwrap them, much less consider wearing them. I wish my Bubbie Sarah was still around so I could ask her why she bought all those linens if she never intended to use them. Then, maybe I’d have some insight into my own peccadillo, and an answer to why I never touch any of these bottles of fragrance.

I think a goodly amount of my reticence stems from the exclusivity of the Serge Lutens line, the fact that most of them are only available in one specific place in one particular city. My husband and I took a vacation to Dublin and London 3-1/2 years ago, and journeyed via Eurostar through the Chunnel from London to Paris. Since we were spending only one day in the City of Light, I had only three must-see destinations: the Eiffel Tower, the Mona Lisa (we were, after all, tourists), and the Salons du Shiseido. My husband was quite the good sport whilst I pillaged the Salons; he waited outside. When I finally emerged, we made our way out of the Palais Royale and over to the Louvre so we could do a mad dash through as much of it as possible (reference Mark Twain’s images of American tourists in Innocents Abroad running through the Vatican Museum to get to the Sistine Chapel; been there, done that, too). As we approached the glass pyramid, I wondered why there were not more people milling about, despite the fact that we descended on Paris on a very grey, chilly November day. It was a Tuesday, and you would think we would have known that the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays. No such luck. No mention of it either from the lovely French girl at the concierge desk in our London hotel who very happily almost booked us 2 first class Eurostar tickets which would have set us back about £800. Of course, I prevented that from happening.

Turned away at the Louvre, myself, my husband and my 4 bell jars (Rahat Loukhoum, Muscs Koublai Khan, Bois et Fruits and Cuir Mauresque) went stomping all the way down the Champs-Élysées, to the Avenue Montaigne, past every designer shop and the Plaza Athinée, without even pausing to look at anything. I was following the Eiffel Tower, just like I used to follow the CN Tower all over the city of Toronto when I was a kid. I was a woman on a mission. I kept thinking, OK, I can still make two out of three, with the Meat Loaf song “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” earworming its way through my head the entire time.

When we finally reached the tower, and while waiting in line to buy tickets, I noticed what I presumed to be an American couple standing in the snaking line. What gave them away was that the woman was carrying the Frommer’s Guide to Paris, something I flat out refused to buy since I didn’t think we’d need it; we were only going to be there for one lousy day. Armed with just my très, très mal university French and a fistful of Euros, I thought we’d be fine. Of course I inquired of this woman, “Could you please tell me if your guide says which day of the week the Louvre is closed?” She, a very nice lady from Des Moines Iowa traveling with her husband, graciously informed me, “Uh, it says here the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays.” Upon hearing that news, I believe I turned a shade of red non-existent in nature. At least that’s what my husband claims.

On the train back to London, I clutched my bottles of fragrance with the vehemence of a lioness guarding her newborn cubs. I couldn’t help it; they were the most significant souvenirs of my trip, along with my disappointment and frustration. I vowed I was going to hunt down that French concierge girl and beat her senseless for not informing us that the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays. I did make mention that it was one of our planned destinations, but alas, for reasons not known, she never communicated that little tidbit of information. I remain disappointed to this day, since I have not been back to Paris. A travel journalist friend of mine loves to tell people that you should never go anywhere thinking that you will never revisit the place you are going to. Of course, he traverses the globe on the good graces of the airlines and stays at the best hotels in the world for a mere fraction of what Joe Schmo tourist would pay. In all fairness, I must mention that our trip was made possible by his contacts, and if not for them, would have cost somewhere in the neighborhood of a loaded Toyota Corolla.

As I previously mentioned, my Serge Lutens collection has grown significantly from the original 4 bottles. The “export” fragrances can be had fairly easily, but there is just something about those bell jars that elicits a powerful I’ll-walk-barefoot-over-broken- glass-then-wade-waist-deep-through-raw-sewage urge to get my hands on them. I have gone through backchannels and shopping services and of course, the ubiquitous auction site to obtain my bottles. I don’t consider myself overly materialistic, but I will admit that my Serge Drawer houses some of my most prized possessions. I still harbor the dream of going back to Paris one day and re-visiting the Salons, and going back to the Louvre, of course; just not on a Tuesday.