I decided today (Sunday) was close enough to December to haul my Christmas decorations out and get my holiday mojo working.  We went to church first for some prayers and a dose of Christmas carols, then ransacked the attic for the balance of the day, with Rudolph in the background and a break to bake sugar cookies.  If you are looking for a quiet, tasteful display of elegant ornamentation, conveying the true, simple spirit of the holiday, then by all means don’t come to my house.  (Don’t go to Patty’s house either — I wonder how her butt-shaking motorized Santa survived the winter snows?)  I’ve gotten the Cheese to come around on this, sort of.  His mother was the kind of woman who thought putting a single string of white lights on the tree was gilding the lily.  In my house growing up we decorated the tree until I couldn’t find another square inch of artificial branch to dangle a seahorse or a handmade cyclops Rudolph from.

Today, in addition to setting out my parents’ ratty and beloved 1950s cardboard village (remember those?) replete with trees and one-armed, scary-looking elf revelers, we have a huge wooden, German-made, candle-powered spinning Christmas pyramid that fascinates my kids as much as it did me at their age.  We arranged my mother’s mantel nativity scene to which my children have thoughtfully added nativity elephants, snowmen, Chinese figurines, lions, a llama, a dinosaur, a Lego pirate and Kuan Yin, the goddess of compassion.

Tonight I snuck out to see a flamenco performance, which fed the only parts of my soul that hadn’t been fed by a day of shameless holiday revelry with my kids.  The result is a quickie perfume post.  Let’s tackle Byredo Pulp.

When I first smelled Pulp, I thought immediately of Roald Dahl’s wonderfully lurid children’s book James and the Giant Peach, and the scene where the peach breaks loose from the tree, hurtles downhill and smashes those hateful aunts Sponge and Spiker  — thereby introducing millions of young readers to the guilty pleasure of schadenfreude.   Pulp is something like that giant peach in terms of aim and effect.  It has no steering wheel, no breaks, no catalytic converter, no emissions control, no airbags.  Consider carefully whether you want to throw yourself in front of it.

Pulp’s notes are bergamot, fig, blackcurrant, apple, tiare, peach flower, cedar and praline, combined to make “a sweet, green fragrance.”  I know, I know, that sounds disgusting.  But on Louise and on me, it’s much more tart than it sounds — on Louise it’s almost pure grapefruit with some sap notes, and on me it’s more a tart berry - lingonberry jam, maybe, or homemade cranberry sauce with very little sugar.  If it were a taste, your mouth would pucker and your eyes would water.  It gets a little sweeter as it dries down, but not much, so don’t let the word “praline” frighten you.  The fig is very green, more leaves/bark than fruit.

Honestly?  I cannot imagine wearing this.  It’s huge — insane sillage and longevity, and no volume control whatsoever.   It’s the sort of fragrance that would have me chewing my own arm off after a few hours just to get away from it.  But I admit it smelled divine on Louise’s wimpy-fragrance-killing skin.  I can’t think of anything really like it; if you like big green galbanum-laced meanies (Louise also mentioned Miller et Bertaux’ Green Green Green and Green, although Pulp is much more aggressive) this might be your sort of thing.   It’s got that in-your-face attitude.

As far as I know, Byredo Pulp is available in the US only at Barney’s, for $190, and I think a bottle would last you forever.

image, Alexandria’s library: the extraordinary illustrations of the original volume of James and the Giant Peach, which I’ve enjoyed inflicting on my own children; German Christmas pyramid much like ours, christmas-treasures.com

The Big Cheese is stuck in Yangon, Burma (unless he’s still in Mandalay) because all the flights home involve – whoops! – Bangkok, and it doesn’t look like that’s resolving itself immediately.  There’s a lot of political posturing going on there, but it’s getting harder to imagine an outcome other than the Thai military going after the crowd of protesters occupying the airports.   The Cheese has been gone much of November, and he was coming home next week, until this happened.  The routes out of Yangon are pretty limited, and obviously he doesn’t have Uncle Sam offering him a helping hand either.  The Burmese (or maybe their neighbors) have now closed the borders so he can’t get out over land either.  It could be worse, of course – he could be in Mumbai, bless those people – but still.  I’m going to ask Santa to drop him down my chimney before Christmas.

How do I do it?  I am an excellent juggler.  I have a lot of balls in the air at a given time.  You should see my moves.  But sometimes I feel like dropping both hands, turning my back and walking away.  Let the balls fall where they may.  I’m tired of being a juggler.  I’m ready to audition for a different role in the circus.  Clown, maybe.  Even the concession stand is looking good at this point.

I drown my sorrows in a bottle, as many of you do.  On Thanksgiving it was vintage Femme.  I was in a bit of a … mood.  And trying to get my game face on for the extended family.  I stared at my fragrance collection, sniffed a few atomizers.  It was all wrong.  Then I popped the top off my Femme lipstick spray.  That thing is so raunchy it makes me laugh.  It’s like being smacked across the face by an angry, damp civet holding a riding crop in one paw and a plum in its mouth.  A discreet little spray to one wrist, which I dabbed on my neck, and off we went.  The first thing Buckethead said when I got in the car was, what’s that smell?  And you could tell he wasn’t thinking about pumpkin pie, either.  More like, what died?  I don’t know whether my dining companions enjoyed it much (my brother in law is mostly anosmic, which maybe was a good thing) but it was just the get-over-yourself kick in the pants I needed.

I need to stop reading the news before bedtime – I have the most terrible dreams, dreams of conflagrations and destruction.  Dreams where I am always searching desperately for one or more of my children while trying not to lose the others, pushing against the fleeing tide of humanity.  I wake up at 2 or 4 am, panting in fear.  No wonder so many people drop dead in the small hours.

So.  We’re still fighting Buckethead’s stomach bug, about which I will say nothing further, and I’m catching up on some pleasure reading, and eating some tasty turkey leftovers.   Let me take my Mope Hat off and mention a couple things.

First off, the Lipstick Drama continues.  I fell in love with NARS Jungle Red, a slightly warm red that on my lips is almost true, but brighter than MAC Russian Red.  I’m assiduously avoiding the word “orange” in favor of “tomato.”  I had the NARS gal put some on and suggest a blush, and what the hell – I went for it.  NARS Exhibit A.  I’ll drop a picture in here at left.  There it is, folks – the clown makeup I need for my new life.  I have to put, like, seven grains of it on my face – the SA literally rested the brush briefly on the blush and then shook it off – but man, it is beautiful on my skin with a red lip.   If you go look at the reviews on MUA, the range of skin tones wearing this thing is amusing.  Lots of dark-skinned women are wearing it, but everybody else is too, including palefaces like yours truly.  Also, I forgot to mention this last time, but — have you all noticed how much the lighting in Sephora SUCKS?  Sure, it’s bright enough — but the colors read so, so off in their store lighting — I am shocked that they’ve done that poor a lighting job in a store that’s devoted to makeup.  Something about the lighting shifts everything in the orange direction and mutes the blue tones.  So — try a lipstick on, it’s neutral in the store and hot pink in the hallway.  Try an “orange” lipstick on and discover it’s true red in natural light.  How dumb is that?

I’m still poking around for a true neutral blush – Strada was just okay, a little muted on me.  Maybe one of the Bobbi bronzers?  It’s hard to find a neutral blush without shimmer.   The other thing that happened was, in the process of blotting off 55 red lipsticks, I discovered that in spite of all cool-toned makeup lore out there, I really can work a warm lip – think salmon or coral or even orange, if it’s more creamsicle and less pumpkin.  I think it’s because it balances out the weird tones of my lip (seriously, around the perimeter they are faintly blue, and ugh).  MAC Vegas Volt was just a hair too Faye Dunaway orange on me, but Crosswires and the (recently d/c’d) Eager were lovely.   So, two points – one, you fair skinned, cool toned gals might want to consider taking a walk on the warm side.  Two – if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this experience as a makeup newbie, it’s that I need to follow fewer “rules” and play more with the colors the way I play with paints.  I’m so boring the way I do my makeup.  This was really, really fun, and thanks to all of you for your suggestions, which I’m still ferreting out and testing, and a special shout-out to Louise for her patience and humor while I tried on 35 (55?) lippies, and to Gina for all her great advice.

One more nod in the fragrance direction – I’m infatuated with Le Labo Poivre 23.  I can’t think of a single thing to say in a review that Lee and Patty didn’t say already.  I’m less of a Le Labo fan than many of you.  In fact the only one I wear is Vetiver (which doesn’t even smell like vetiver.)  Poivre 23 is a pepper-incense of phenomenal sillage, with a vanillic-incense drydown that was astonishing in its beauty.  Every now and again on the blogs we kick around the idea of, how much is a fragrance “worth?”   If you’d asked me before I’d smelled it whether this London exclusive was the $400, I think I’ve got that right, I’d have laughed in your face and said, no way.  But I don’t really have anything that smells like this.  It’s not about complexity – it’s like someone hit a bell and struck a deep, extraordinarily beautiful note that just went on forever.  I still don’t want a $400 bottle, but I’m trying to weasel in on a split, and I encourage anyone who’s interested in incense to cough up for a sample.

Finally, nail polish note – my local CVS has Barielle, and I bought Misbehaving Mistress.  Wow – a color that reads right in between gunmetal and brown.  It’s so cool.  It’s a faint shimmer, technically, but on the nails looks more like a super-glossy cream.  Fans of odd colors like Jacques, Metro Chic and some of those RBLs should check this one out.  Mistress gets extra points for not fading to black, even in dim indoor light.

Happy almost-Thanksgiving, everyone!   Safe travels if you’re heading off somewhere.  We’re going to leave this post up through the weekend.  Continuing our efforts to overcome the massive estrogenic overload on the blog due to my recent lipstick/nail polish posts, I’ve found two tasty men’s scents I want to blog about.  With the holiday season coming up, and in the spirit of gift-giving to someone other than, you know … yourself, today’s post is on a couple of giftable men’s scents with the added bonus that you may want to sneak a spray of them too. 

Zirh Ikon – new at Bloomie’s.  You know what I love?  All sorts of things, including hot buttermilk biscuits and big, sparkly cocktail rings.  But I also love running into a new fragrance and sniffing it and falling into instant love, which as you know is expressed by the mathematical formula:

E=mcSqueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

Total, total love on this one. Notes are: cardamom, davana, ginger, lemon, orris, labdanum, cinnamon, clove buds, frankincense, patchouli, cedarwood, vetiver, amber.

My first thought smelling it was, this would fit right into the CdG Incense series.  You know where I’d plug it in?  Right on top of Ourzo — Ortzo … Ourzazo … that spicy one I can’t spell, much less say.  I’d delete Orzowhatsit on the grounds (sorry!) it smells bad on me, and replace it with Ikon.

I popped over to Kevin’s review and was amused to see he immediately came up with the CdG as well, although to him Ikon is softer and lighter.  This is one of those men’s-shelf scents women could wear without hesitation and without waiting for some guy-signifier opening (e.g., citrus-bergamot) to fade.  In fact I kind of wonder whether men might find it a little feminine – although I guess you’re supposed to be reassured by that very manly-looking bottle.

I get the mother lode of cardamom and ginger up front, which I love.  The orris is more powdery/violet than rooty on me, and contributes along with the frankincense to the instant “spicy/incense” read of the scent.  I kept waiting for the other guy-frag shoe to drop.  You know what I mean – a big fat hit of cedar or some man-cologne accord – but it never happened.  The cardamom fades a bit, sadly, but never goes away, and the clove helps keep things from getting too dark.  It’s very smooth; the patchouli is there but pretty clean and not camphorous.  It gets a little woodier in the drydown, but still very unisex.  I thought it was wonderful just the way it is.  Kevin doesn’t get much iris so he layered it over Prada Infusion d’Iris with nice results.  I did the same layering thing with the Jo Malone Black Vetyver Café  – and okay, you could probably call the result Cliché Pour Homme, but it smelled wonderful. 

I liked it so much I did three big sprays at Bloomies, and days later it’s still lingering on my scarf, making me very happy.  The bottle, as you can see, isn’t stunning, but it isn’t hideous either.   And best of all, because it’s a department store man-frag it’s $50, and what’s not to like about that?

Second — Chanel Allure Homme Edition Blanche.  The Allures (male and female) don’t do much for me, but Kevin liked it, and he and I clearly like some of the same things, so I thought it was worth checking out.  They have it at Bloomies but I’ve never seen it anywhere else, maybe it’s exclusive. 

Like Kevin, I can’t argue that Edition Blanche is in any way wildly innovative, but it sure smells nice. Jacques Polge did the scent, notes are lemon, bergamot, cedar, sandalwood, tonka bean, white musk, vetiver, ginger, amber, vanilla, white and pink pepper.  I might buy Zirh Ikon for myself, but if I wanted a younger, hipper-looking Chanel that smelled delicious I’d go for this one.  Again, apologies to Kevin – I swear I’m not blog-lifting – but we both used the word  “delicious” and it smells expensive and sophisticated, two concepts pretty much missing from the original and Allure Sport.  Yeah, it’s got your standard-issue top, but the ginger and pepper kick it up into something fun, and it dries down into an elegant musk-vetiver that’s saved from utter guy-frag dullsville by that creamy vanilla.  The bottle’s elegant in its own quiet but kinda hip way — it’s a matte metal and feels great in the hand.   I think the guys on Basenotes are pretty meh about this – again, no argument from me that it’s breaking new fragrance ground.  But sometimes … particularly if you’re giving a gift, and you want to play it a little safe and not look like a total cheapskate … you just need a very nice, approachable man scent.  This definitely qualifies, in my opinion, as a good choice for the less experienced consumer.

I’d love to hear:  are there any scents you bought for your man just so you could borrow them?  Or, are there scents of yours he’s run off with, without any prompting from you?   The Big Cheese has just done this for the first time – my Jo Malone Black Vetyver Café seems to have found its way to his dresser.

Today we have two perfumes that couldn’t be more different.  Let’s start with Beauty - Parfums de Rosine’s newsest release, Rose Praline.  Notes of cardamom, bergamot, rose essences, Geranium, Rosen, grated chocolat, Lapsang Suchang Tea, Ambra, sandalwood, musk, cocoa make up this scent.  It’s a little bit of a departure for Rosine. I’m not sure they’ve done a rose gourmand before, have they?  Now, just as my bias, I love rose perfumes as much as March doesn’t.   But only when they are done right, and I’ve been a big fan of the Rosines for a long time because they are so darn obsessive about roses and have tried about every treatment possible.  I’m anxious for them to get to a wheaty/bready/hay rose next - I mean, they should, shouldn’t they?

But let’s look at this one instead of the one I want them to make. It goes on somewhat sweet, with that little girl beautiful dewy rose quality, slightly candied, like a sugar crystal rose or wedding cake rose… but with a tartness.  Just when I’m thinking ruh-roh, this may be too much, that crystaline quality starts fading, and I get tea and a little cocoa and chocolate rolling up, and I swear, there are moments when I think it is a Montale and some oud and chocolate is flipping around in there, but that can’t be.  The chocolate and tea are not overpowering, but has this very subtle quality that takes the sweetness down to the proper notch.  Okay, it’s still a candy rose, but one that has a nice dark chocolate and a cup of tea sitting by it for a proper scented meal.  I really like this, and I’m not sure why since it really shouldn’t be something I like, but Rosine tends to make these things usually work out for me, no matter what, and it is just sweet and lovely.  If you’re not a fan of the rose or gourmands, keep walking, but if you like either the rose or gourmands, give this a sniff.

Now let’s take a look at the beast - Social Creature’s newest creation, Frankfurt Kitchen. Made to celebrate the independence of women, I presume from the kitchen, it has notes of resins, peppermint, coffee and osmanthus.  That line-up of notes sounds pretty good.  And it is, ohmy, resiny beyond belief, with a big peppermint thrown right in the middle of it.  Those two things pretty much drown out the coffee and osmanthus, though the coffee is there if you like it burnt.  But there’s something somewhat compelling about this, even though my nose is complaining bitterly about it.  It feels much more masculine and leathery, like I’ve had my chaps on for a couple of days.  Do I get any kitchen out of this? No.  Mostly leather - rough leather with a little mint.  It’s sure not uninteresting and mellows out to something I’m pretty much compulsively sniffing.

One hand — all sweetness and confectionary light.  Other hand — leather pants with a melted peppermint in the pocket.  Oddly enough, I like them both.

Drop a comment to be entered in a drawing for a sample of each.

As regular readers know, I am an unaplogetic fan of the original KenzoAmour.  I think you either like it or you find it completely boring.  As Robin (a fellow fan) notes in her thoughtful review on Now Smell This:

 “Amour is, if anything, an extraordinarily tame fragrance: there is nothing to ruffle the surface other than a persistent undertone of dark wood and a dash of incense. But as with rice pudding, it is the blandness itself that is compelling; it just smells nice, and there is something rather calming about it.”   

Which pretty much captures the allure of KenzoAmour for me.  I wear it the way I drink tea – without a lot of thought, on a regular basis, in pursuit of comfort.  Maybe KenzoAmour isn’t that scent for you, but I think many/most perfume fans have a fragrance that does the same basic job for them.

So I’d been waiting impatiently for the new KenzoAmour Le Parfum to arrive in stores.  It went “live” in the online Sephora store several weeks ago, but I refused to order it because my unsniffed-purchase track record is so terrible it approaches jinx level.  It’s like the fragrance fairies put a curse on my unsniffed buys.  Even something that looks like a sure thing, and that I could return to Sephora if I didn’t like, would almost certainly be a failure.  So I haunted our local store like a cranky ghost.  Just when I gave up in despair and begged a sample off Robin (thus avoiding the curse) it showed up in our mall, and I’ve had the chance to try it several times.

I thought this would be a Venn-diagram-type review, where I’d be discussing where the two scents overlap and where they differ, but instead I’m left with the persistent image of two distinct musical pieces being played on opposite ends of the piano. 

The original KenzoAmour EdP’s notes are cherry blossom, rice steam, white tea, frangipani, heliotrope, thanaka wood, incense, vanilla and musk.  It’s played at a higher pitch – the sweet, cherry opening smell of flowers and heliotrope giving way rapidly to the heart of the fragrance, woody and with the smell of cooking rice, followed by vanilla, soft musk and incense.  It’s not remotely foody, despite that list of notes – there’s nothing there you would eat – but if it works on you as it does for me, it is a day-long skin scent, and extraordinarily comforting.

KenzoAmour Le Parfum, in a matte gold version of the same funky, modernist Karim Rashid bottle that the original came in, might have been simply a stronger version of the original.  Here’s the blurb from Sephora: “The gold of the East dwells at the heart of KenzoAmour le Parfum—a woody, oriental fragrance composed of rich and precious ingredients: Patchouli, Benzoin Balm of Siam, Amber, and Incense mixed with the original KenzoAmour notes.”  Sephora lists the notes of Le Parfum as incense, rice steam, amber, patchouli, frangipani, benzoin, vanilla.   Regardless of what Sephora says about mixing in the original notes, the old, sweet heliotropin top of the EdP is missing – probably a blessing for those who found it either too sweet or too evocative of Play-Doh.  Instead, Le Parfum takes place on the low end of the piano.  I get very little development – some (clean) patchouli, almost no florals, the original, lovely rice steam, lots of benzoin, and a dark vanilla over a woody, ambery base.  My favorite part of the parfum is that benzoin.  Le Parfum is hardly masculine, but it’s considerably darker and more unisex than the original.  It’s a little burnt, in an attractive way, like a flan instead of rice pudding.

Out of curiosity I did one of those seven-spritz numbers on myself one day in Sephora, including my hair, just to see what would happen – and it was fine, other than the SA looking at me strangely.  I thought at a higher concentration I might get a hint of the Play-Doh that Robin mentions in her review of the parfum, the heliotrope of the original having been supplemented/replaced with the even more Play-Doh-evoking amber.  I don’t know how you make “amber” in a fragrance, and I assume there are different choices for the chemical construct, as there are for musks.  Thankfully (crossing myself frantically and spitting over my shoulder) I, who have brought out the Play-Doh in more than one otherwise attractive fragrance, get none here.

I thought Le Parfum might resemble Kenzo Flower Oriental in its woody masculinity, but a resniff of Oriental proved me wrong.  Oriental is much more floral with the incense grafted on.  KenzoAmour Le Parfum and the EDP get closer together in the drydown, and I can’t help but think they’d layer beautifully.  As with the EDP, I find the lasting power very good  for a scent that does not wear heavily.

I delayed this review for a week, pondering the questions:  if the original didn’t do anything for you, might you like this any better?  I’ll offer a tentative yes — assuming you get benzoin and not just, say, ambernilla.  Which did I prefer?  Honestly, I’d have to say the original.  Lovely as Le Parfum is, without its peculiar, sweet milky-floral top, it doesn’t comfort me quite as much.  For others, that same lack of sweetness might be just the ticket.

The gold bottle’s getting some love on the blogs and boards, but seeing it at Sephora next to the others I admit my heart sank a little.   I came to appreciate the original, distinctive bottle shape, although it looks a little odd in my collection.  To my eye, the exterior finish for Le Parfum seems better in the concept than the execution, and is darker in real life than in the photo above.  It’s small (only 30ml) and ideally the matte, dark gold exterior would look like painted, burnished wood – my idea of what they were maybe going for.  But instead it looks a little cheap, like that spray-on antique-gold-leaf you’d find in a craft store.  A bright, shiny, mirror-finish plasticized gold might have been another fun option with that mod-design bottle, or black, which I think would be quite elegant.

top image: KenzoAmour Le Parfum, online at Sephora, $65, free shipping, and I feel compelled to point out they have the wee bottle gift set of the regular KenzoAmour again, 3 mini bottles for $38, image also included here because they are so darn cute.

I’m going to try to write about perfume, but I’m fuming at the moment. The kitchen looks like it’s been set up for a toddler group’s first experience of paddling - puddles everywhere. There’s a leak under the sink I can’t seem to fix cuz the u-bend join keeps fu messing up and no amount of rescrewing, cleaning, crying (that was meant to say drying, but it’s an appropriate typo), sealing, seems to fix the fu devil. All because, since this morning, I’ve been installing a new dishwasher - our aged old chugger gave up the ghost a year ago and I’m sick of cooking and then also bloody well washing up. I thought I’d set it all up myself to save a little money. What a f**kwit I am. I guess I’ll need to call a plumber out soon if the u-bend doesn’t sort itself. Still, I’ve got lovely clean dishes after my first run through, even if there are drills, bits of wood, screws and all manner of other home improvement artefacts scattered over the granite work surfaces, like some post-ironic art installation. And that’s not to mention the content of two cupboards and all the extra bits of piping I’ve had to buy and cut to cope with our totally bizarre drainage set up in this 200 year old house. Rant over.

There’s been a lot of ladytalk on this site recently, what with March’s recent obsession with nail varnish and her Wednesday article on lipstick. Gordon Bennet (mild, archaic British expletive), I’m happy for the little ladies to have their interests, but puhleeze, all the bleeding details started doing my head in. So instead, I thought I’d bring us back to proper manly talk, for guys who are tough enough and maybe like it rough: car engines golf lifting weights wrestling football home improvement perfume. There, that’s better. I feel the stubble growing as I type the words. Three fragrances this time. In mini-review style, given the drips that continue to call to me. First up, Ormonde Jayne’s latest release, Zizan.

I’ll triangulate for you and end with a description. Take the woody dry smokiness of Gucci pour Homme, add in the contrasting feel of the top notes to drydown of Rochas Lui (where green and yellow citrus notes replace orange ones) and sprinkle on a dash of masculine austerity from le Labo’s Vetiver46. That le Labo number starts of trying to convince you you’re trapped inside a monks’ apothecary, circa 1500, before changing its mind and softening up, with tonkaish vanillic touches. The Ormonde Jayne goes the other way - starting out bright and playful before becoming grey with incense and dry woods. It’s tough, it’s manly, it’s very different to the softer Iso e Super-driven features of both Isfarkand and the superior Ormonde Man, but it will no doubt please lovers of retro-infused scents of a permanently hairy, chest-thumping, strutting-as-though-you’re-hung-like-a-donkey butchier-than-thou scents. And a bonus for lovers of binomial classification: the name comes from the Latin for vetiver. Or so I read on basenotes. (It has nothing to do with French genitalia). Is it all about the vetiver root though, as the name would imply? Only in the same sense that Vetiver 46 is, though it does have greener aspects than that church-to-cuddle number. I will say though, even thoug Linda Pilkington herself calls it a powerhouse, the ingredients are refined, high quality, and a pleasure to sniff, even if the scent isn’t something you’d wear.

• Next, the re-released LP No. 9 from Penhaligon’s. Once again, the info:
• Minty black and warm, LP No. 9 casts a spell of powdered darkness from its complex heart of ylang-ylang, spices and iris. The aromatic mingle of clove, vanilla & earthy patchouli add a sweetened ginger-ale touch to heady layers that open and smooth into a moreish bubblegum-scented delight.
• 
  
• So there you go. I got no bubble gum, though that might be a reference to the clove note. For me, it was five parts Rocabar, four parts Un Bois Sepia and one part dentist’s mouthwash. I liked it enough, though my testing was fleeting. The sample is somewhere in my car.
• As is the last of the trio, another Penhaligon release. Elixir is designed by Olivia Giacobetti as an update of their classic Hammam Bouquet. However, it’s more in a reference to the idea of a hammam, I think, than that venerable fragrance itself.
• Here’s the story:  Head notes: Eucalyptus Steam, Cardamom, Orange blossom absolute and White cedar; Heart notes: Red Turkish Rose absolute, Egyptian Jasmine absolute, Cinnamon leaves, Mace and Rosewood; Base notes:  Benzoin “tears”, Tonka beans, Vanilla, Incense, Red Sandalwood and Guaicum wood.  Opening with eucalyptus and the harmonising hot spices of cardamom, cinnamon and mace, the senses are massaged with the dark magic of Turkish rose and jasmine, sharpened with a twist of orange. Heat and smoke rise and the incense and woods mingle with the earthy rub of resins and spices. A touch of vanilla and the soft persistent roundness of hypnotic Tonka bean complete the atmospheric dry-down.
• 
  
• Interested? I was. But, perhaps more than any of those ingredients would indicate, this is primarily an incense scent. Now, I’ve never been very goth, drawn as I am to the frivolous and funky. Therefore, a combo of incense and rose, resting on a background of whispered spices, ain’t my thing. And the first time I tried this, that’s what I got. However, on two subsequent occasions I received quite a different impression, based perhaps on whatever that eucalyptus steam is supposed to be. It smelled like a high quality sauna, a place of luxury and relaxation (though, to be honest, saunas ain’t my thing either) and, though evanescent, I was happy to sample some more. I won’t be buying it, but it’s good to see Giacobetti continue to explore oriental sheerness in her recent work. Is it just me, or does that bottle look like some tat from a set of bad stage props?

• 

   There. I’m done. Back to the plumbing, unfortunately. To make someone smile, leave a message if you’d like to receive my samples of these. I’ll throw in the women’s LP for good measure too. I hope to respond to you at some point during the day, though the kitchen disaster may well continue, and I’ve got much loved guests arriving from Calfornia. I have pumpkin pie to bake! With ginger and cardamom cream!

• p.s. A tip. Never try writing in wordpress using Google Chrome. You’ll regret it.Unless you enjoy failing to reformat your text.   Aaargh!

Rummaging in the sample draw, I was hoping to come up with the new Felanilla, but Luckyscent just sent me Drama Nuui, another new introduction from PG. 

 I’ve not really kept up with PG recently - it all got so confusing on their website with private scents having only numbers, and it was like you had to twitch your nose three times and do a behind the back handshake just to order a perfume. 

These two new ones, sounded interesting, so…  let’s see if they are!  Notes of petit grain, absinthe, jasmine, spices, guaiac wood, sandalwood, musk make up Drama Nuui.  It opens heavy on the jasmine, rolling indolic, but the green, wood and spice notes keep it from dropping in the crapper, fecally speaking.  Are we sure there’s not Lotv in this?  Probably not. It’s got a nice compositional feel to it, fresh and a little smutty at the same time.  The jasmine goes in the direction of sweet, like Montale’s Jasmin Full, but pulls back short of it and sort of smolders. Again, I swear there’s some lotv in there or at least it feels that way, reminding me a bit of Ellie’s greenness.  It’s well done and a nice angle on the jasmine.  The drydown is really soft and beautiful, not a harsh, jarring note anywhere to be found.   

Since I have it, let’s take a sniff of Lucienne too.  Notes of Bay rose, Bulgarian rose, leafy green, ginger, lemon, bergamot, Indian jasmine, rose maroc, gardenia, orris, green tulip, lily of the valley, musk, heliotrope, vanilla, gray amber, sandalwood, cedarwood.  Okay, let’s not and say we did.  The open is all just…  a mess of green and floral and… booze? No, not really, maybe like ginger beer.  It’s trying to be too many things to too many noses and just seems scattered and erratic.    It’s like my spice cabinet and vegetable bin — is that celery?  But none of those notes are listed, so how can that be?   It does slowly lose that and turn more into a floral, but I’m must not feeling it. Just no. 

Anyone gotten their hands on the Felanilla (must be careful when I type that!) yet? If so, what do you think?

Blogging off topic today on lips – particularly red lips.  If you like lipstick and/or working a red lip, please read on and give me advice, I have questions in here.  If not – sorry! – pretend the blog is down today.  Hey, I just freed up 20 minutes in your day!  Waste it by going here to Gwyneth Paltrow’s new, inexplicable website GOOP (for pete’s sake) and explain to me what I’m missing.  Is there any content there?  Or do you just get the same tripe loading on all pages about nourishing what is real?   The day I seek lifestyle advice from La Paltrow (“find inner peace by being rich and marrying that guy from Coldplay!”) is the day pigs fly, but I’m fascinated by the concept.

This is long and written in my usual maniacal, pedantic, obsessive style.  Feel free to get a cup of coffee before settling in.

* * *

Early last summer I looked at the 35+ lipsticks and glosses in my drawer and divided them into three categories:

• Horribly dated frosts, too-dark shimmers and glitter glosses about which I will say nothing more, because if I did I’d have to put a bag over my head and enter the makeup witness protection program.   I got rid of those.
• Variations on that pinky-brown YLBB (Your Lips But Better), complexion-enhancing shades that Bobbi Brown pioneered (in my mind, anyway) and everyone makes now, and lipstick lovers should own one.  Or several.  These I kept.
• The not-quite-right lipsticks from Gift With Purchase sets, because they were interesting and pretty and, like the interestingly pretty top I bought on sale at Neiman Marcus that never makes it off the hanger and onto my body, these lovely lipsticks never seemed to be right for the moment.  I find it curious how seldom GWP lipsticks work on me, because I assume they pick their more universally flattering shades for their lippies, and they generally hedge their bets further by giving you warm or cool options. Those I tucked away or gave to the girls.

Leaving me with pretty much nothing else – which is funny, because I love lipstick.  I wear lipstick and/or gloss every single day.  I put it on to walk to the mailbox.  It is the sole makeup item I carry in my purse for reapplication as needed, along with a small mirror.  I don’t leave home without it.

This summer I went to several makeup counters, told the SAs not to let me buy anything YLLB, and we went from there.  I wound up with several interesting pinks in various tones and finishes.  But now it’s fall and time for red — the topic of today’s post.

I swatched reds until I developed what looked like some permanent, alarmingly pink skin condition on the back of my hand, and tried (fewer) shades on my lips until I looked like the Joker, due to spillover and multiple removals.  Here’s what I found, and anyone on here who loves lips, particularly red lips, please chime in. I should clarify: I’m interested in a more matte finish, rather than shimmer, and I can always add gloss (although then they don’t seem to last as long.) 

1) Stains, in brush or wand applicator formula.  Full disclosure: this all started as a search for a reddish lip stain because I thought I’d ease into red, but I gave up, because the stain concept didn’t work out for me, although I’m open to suggestions.  I have full lips with minimal lines, but stains tended not to flatter my face. Stains can be really drying (what’s up with that?), can taste terrible, last less well than you’d think, can be messy to apply, and often give that sucked-on-a-popsicle look with more pigmentation toward the inside of the lip – which looks sexy on a 20-year-old but is a little jejune on me.  Two stains I want to mention:  The NARS Lip Stain Gloss in Indian Red and Daredevil — both of which looked like hell on me (dried blood and hot pink, respectively) but they are so unusual and I am sure somebody out there must look amazing in them.  Extremely heavily pigmented with a totally matte finish, and you need about three drops to spread quickly because they dry fastfastfast.  Oddly, Sayonara, which gets a lot of static as garish on MUA, was a perfect YLBB on me.

2) Lip/cheek pot “stains.”   The Bobbi Brown Raspberry Pot Rouge is a fun color, berry pink rather than red, for someone who wants a pop of color that (like many of BBs colors) has a neutral undertone to keep it from being super-bright.  More a potted lipstick/gloss than a true “stain.”  Laura Mercier Lip Stain in Scarlet is a brighter option – a pink-toned red that looks garish in the pot but is surprisingly buildable, for a very sheer berry veil up to something cherry-bright, but not as bright as you’d think.  Again, more a satin-y lipstick/gloss than a true “stain.”  You can put these on with your pinkie or a brush.  No noticeable smell/flavor. Both of these are a nice intro to stronger color, not super long lasting, although Scarlet leaves a very pretty stain on the lips.

3) Poppy King’s Lipstick Queen line is my platonic ideal in terms of YLBB colors and formula, and I wish I had a dollar for every woman I know who’s whipped a LQ Natural Saint out of her purse.  Poppy does one thing – lips — and she does it beautifully.  All the colors come in two concentrations: Saint (10% pigment for a sheer color) and Sinner (matte, 90% pigment), and there are ancillary products (glosses, pencils, etc.)  I discovered them in NYC – a small, well edited selection of no-shimmer colors that don’t bleed, taste or smell.  I imagine an ideal customer is a woman who doesn’t want to spend a day pawing through 437 shades in Nordstrom to find two simple lipsticks  – a YLBB and maybe something more fun.  That doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t appreciate them, though.  The downside: there’s no store stocking them around here, so I had to read up online and guess for my order. I picked:

Medieval, her new cherry-stained lip tint in a lipstick.  A couple weeks ago a friendly Bobbi Brown SA gave me some incredibly enlightening information – my lips are more pigmented than average (who knew?), and they have a slightly cool (blue-brown) cast.  This would explain a lot about the terrible things I’ve done to sheer lipsticks over the years – my lips have a weird way of sucking the life out of a color, and I have to be careful not to go too dark.  It also probably explains how I can get away with a slightly warmer lip tone.  Finally, it probably explains why Medieval turned out to be my first dud – it was like an $18 Chap-Stik.  Where was the cherry stain everyone’s raving about?  I got nada – no real color at all.  It probably does work great on lighter lips.  I also got Red Saint, her signature red, because I thought her Red Sinner looked too orange, although it’s supposed to be a true red.  I can’t find a single review online.  I’m curious, because I think Saint veers in the slightly pink direction.  Anyone reading this have Red Sinner?  I wonder if I should exchange my Medieval for that one, or should I get Pink Sinner, which looks kind of fab?  Finally, Rose Sinner is a gorgeous, slightly warm blush pink-red for someone who wants a soft, romantic pinky-red that isn’t neon bright.

3) The Full Lip.  I had these done by the SAs, so I could see a professional result and study various techniques.  I tried:

Chanel, Bobbi Brown, Lancome – if you want to chime in with a specific color recommendation I’ll go try it, but everything I saw was too pink, too orange, too brown, too dark or too shimmery to interest me.  For cool-toned reds, it is a precariously fine lipstick line between a red and a fuchsia, and it’s a personal taste thing, but I don’t want a bright pink lip.  Also, I think it depends on the color, but all three lines can have a noticeable taste and smell, and I’d rather they didn’t.

One Laura Mercier, Truly Red, was a pretty blue-red, but waxy, very drying and came off in less than an hour, leaving me with the red pencil liner the SA’d used around my mouth, and I’ll never do that again.

Bare Escentuals Red Zin – a standout pink-red, slightly glossy, surprisingly long lasting given its creamy application.  There are also two slightly warmer toned brown reds, and I’ve made a mental note to revisit this line in the spring, because there are some really pretty colors.  Bonus points for no taste/smell.  

MAC Russian Red – oh my God!!  I realize for seasoned lipstick lovers this is like my discovering a great new substance called “air,” but I actually left this until fairly late in the game, even though it’s often named by makeup artists as a universally flattering true neutral red.  I was sure it was too garish – it’s the Dita Von Teese/Madonna-in-Gaultier red.  You know — that red.  I swatched several MAC reds, including the (very slightly pink) MAC Red and the interestingly matte-velvet but too-dry Ruby Woo.  The SA talked me into Russian and applied it with a brush, emphasizing my cupid’s bow.  I literally squealed in delight at the results.  No taste/smell.  Not moisturizing, but not especially drying, at least on me.  Lasted until I ate, then I needed a touch up in the middle, but the edges remained perfect and in place until bedtime.  Amazing product.  A hot tip based on my online browsing – if you try Russian Red as your potential Holy Grail red, and your first response is, those people are crazy, this is orange, then try MAC Red – that’s your HG red.  I also bought their retractable brush because I loved the shape – a high, flat dome with a very sharp edge.

A slightly darker, slightly more muted variation, NARS Red Lizard, is a hair too dark for me but looks like it would be stunning on lots of ladies, and NARS Jungle Red is the yummy, slightly warmer alternative I’m now eyeballing. 

Make Up For Ever (swatched at Sephora) – a lot of good-looking non-shimmer reds, some opaque and others sheer, but none seemed like the perfect fit (205 was too pink).  I liked their red pencil, though – not too smeary, but not too dry.  Also, has anyone tried their lipstick mattifying gloss?  That looked interesting.

Hey, has anyone tried those Shiseido lip crayons?  Those look cool because they’re automatic, and they have a bright red now.

Final random thoughts/questions for people with way more makeup knowledge than me –

1) Blush.  I am in my 40s and wear foundation, am fairly pale (guessing a MAC 20/25), and I look better with a little bit of blush.  The red lip is really messing up my blush game.  Normally I can go either slightly cool or warm with blush, and with my usual YLBB lips, clashing lips/cheeks has never been an issue.  I’ve always ignored the lip/cheek stain pots on the grounds that they do one job better than the other, but certainly with the Bobbi and Laura Mercier stains it was easier to use the same color for both, applying the cheek stain with an extremely light hand (or rather, one fingertip).  I’m having trouble working a blush with the more saturated reds. Suggestions?

2) While I am in theory a pink-toned person, and thus should lean toward the blue-undertoned reds, I can “swing both ways” a little – a slightly warm red looks surprisingly pretty on me.  I was surprised how few lippies are “true” reds – almost every red, on the skin and blotted down, falls pretty clearly in one camp or the other.  And nobody can purple up a lippie like I can – I did heinous, Morticia-Addams things to all sorts of shades.  Maybe a neutral pencil would fix that?  Also, wouldn’t Morticia be a great name for a lipstick? 

3) All of these could be put on straight out of the tube and look fine, but after seeing the Cupid’s bow look at MAC, I’m investing in their lip brush (unless you tell me to get a different one.) too late, I bought it!   I’ll continue to apply straight from the tube most of the time, but there’s something very sexy about the Precision Lip, and that you don’t get without the brush.

4) Your thoughts on lip prep, primer, and liner, if I don’t need it to prevent feathering?  It’s not like I’m opposed to lip primer or liner, but the only time they used lip primer (at Laura Mercier) the color came off quickly.  And using something like lip balm to pre-moisturize my lips also makes the color come off faster.  I’m not dying to add another step to the process.  Pencil all over tends to dry, I think?  Also, I will never ever let someone just outline my lips in red pencil again.  It’s one thing for your lipstick to fade all over; it’s another to be left with a ridiculous bright red line around my mouth.  Would anyone like to give me a persuasive argument/product to try regarding lip primer or liner?

5) To any of you lipstick virgins out there, it seems worth stating – almost any red or pink lip color, including Russian Red, can be toned way down without too much trouble.  I am hardly a makeup expert, but in addition to the old blot-with-a-tissue-after-applying, which doesn’t work that great with the dry matte colors, you can:  put on lip balm (e.g., Chap-Stik) first and/or use your finger to dab the color on for a light, soft quasi-stain effect; apply a coat of your most neutral brown YLBB lipstick over top, and come to think of it, this is exactly how I use a tawny neutral lippie; apply a soft gloss and blot; if you are desperate and own no brownish lippies, apply a light dusting of tan or light brown eyeshadow (yes, I have actually done this.  Of course, I also wear room spray.) 

6) Finally, those MAC Makeup Remover Wipes – holy cow!   They were the only thing that literally took all traces of red lipstick off my hands instantaneously.  It was almost scary, I wonder if doing that to my face regularly would be bad?  But if you’re wearing a Christina-Aguilera-level full face, one of those wipes would be a godsend (and apparently she uses them).  If I really fall into this red lip thing, I am going to have to investigate further, although right now plain old jojoba oil (my trusty friend) on a Q-tip is getting the job done.  Do you all use a special remover for lipstick?

So… did anyone read this far?    Anything you want to add, argue about or educate me on?  Fire away.

image: Painted Red Lips, Japan, allposters.com

First, anyone in, around or going to Tokyo in the near future? I have a special Le Labo favor that I need done, if anyone is available/willing.  Just hit the Contact Us button over there on the left to get the deets.

I’ve been putzing around with By Kilian’s newest release, Prelude to Love, for a while now - on the fence entirely on whether I like it, love it or despise it.  Notes of Seville orange, bergamot, Amalfi lemon, ginger, pepper, orange blossom, and Florence iris would seem to be completely up my alley, and the open is all promise and freshness, bubbling with citrusy goodness.  But what in the world is swimming around in the base?  Is it the ginger or the pepper?  Iris too rooty?  It’s almost like grass or hay, too, but that’s not listed as a note, just feels like it’s definitely there.

At first I thought it was the warm weather that kept me on the fence on this, but now that it’s cold, it smells  exactly the same, and I’m still… dithering.  Part of me really likes it, and part of me thinks it is too much earthy in there that makes it not a great thing to wear out in public lest I get “those” looks.  But I sniff it at a distance and swoon, get closer and wrinkle my nose.

I’m also dithering on another dog. A beautiful bulldog pup can come home with me in January, and I honestly don’t know what to do. I’m listing the pros and cons.  Pros: I’ve wanted an English bulldog forever; Buddy seriously needs a canine friend lest he completely devolve into thinking he is a human or a cat; two dogs are almost no more trouble than one - you are just as tied down with one dog as with two.  Cons:  do I really know how hard it is to walk two dogs rather than one; double vet expenses and boarding expenses when I do travel; Buddy may hate having a canine friend, but probably not; bulldogs can have special health and care problems, but this is a great breeder with healthy pups; I have two cats and one dog now, do I really, really need another dog?

 What to do, what to do?!?!?!?  Help!  I’m going to need to decide by 12/7, which is when I go visit the pups, and then… it will be, oh, much, much too late, once I put one of those roly-poly, wriggling fat babies in my arms and melt.

Okay, I’m back over into the sorta love on the Prelude to Love - the rootiness seems to be blending better, smoothing this thing out into something I can live with. Maybe this dithering is all a Prelude to Love? 

While waiting impatiently for KenzoAmour Le Parfum to show up at our local Sephora, I got bored and ordered up a reasonably-priced bottle of Kenzo 7:15 AM in Bali, which I’ve seen random nice things said about on Basenotes, MUA and elsewhere.  I didn’t really even look at the notes; I knew there was some vanilla, and it sounded like a comfort scent.  Nobody loves some Kenzo comfort more than I do.

I am not sure what, precisely, I was expecting a fragrance evoking morning in Bali to smell like — woods?  Rice steam? Beach?  Anyhow, this definitely wasn’t it.  I went online and looked it up. The notes are very simple:  jasmine, vanilla, orchid and passionfruit.  Done by Daphne Bugey, it’s classified as a fruity floral and seems to be exclusive to duty free shops, as reviewers keep mentioning that’s where they found it, and I think it’s first in a travel series concept.

7:15 AM in Bali opens with a strongly citrus note, somewhere between grapefruit and orange, and a not particularly sweet or gourmand, slightly powdery vanilla.    Over the next 10 or 15 minutes the strongest citrus fades and I am left with the vanilla overlaying something sweet-tart and powdery, which I assume is the passionfruit, and that’s … pretty much the whole story for the rest of the day.  It’s not overwhelmingly strong, but it’s not exactly fleeting, either, a characteristic it shares with KenzoAmour, at least on me.

Full disclosure — I have no idea what a passionfruit smells like.  I spent some time online, and it’s humorous — you get the “passionfruit smells like passionfruit” problem, like “describe the color green.”  But passionfruit is apparently used to create a grapefruit smell in some body products, and I saw various descriptors evoking citrus, tartness, and creamy exoticism.  So I’m going to guess that the unfamiliar smell that coexists the entire time with the vanilla is passionfruit.  That non-vanilla part is a blend of grapefruit, cranberry, tangerine and mango, and that’s about the best I can do.  There’s a minuscule amount of gaminess in the long drydown (this thing lasts 16 hours, easily, on me) and I don’t know whether that’s the jasmine talking or the passionfruit.

Over the past year I’ve turned into a huge fan of vanilla, which probably surprised me as much if not more than it might have surprised you.  I like vanilla with all sorts of things, including smoke, wood and leather.  But not, as it turns out, with citrus.  Vanilla and citrus just smells … wrong to me.  I think it’s what I find so troublesome about actually trying to wear Shalimar Lite.  It’s the olfactory equivalent of biting into a chocolate from the heart-shaped box and discovering you just snagged the lemon cream.  Ugh.   I hate those things.  It’s a matter of personal taste, obviously, but I don’t think vanilla and citrus play nicely together on their own.  Dark smells like leather and woods damp the vanillic sweetness down.  Citrus doesn’t give vanilla anything substantial to anchor itself to; if anything it magnifies the cloying aspect.

So I shopped it around.  I wore it on and off all week, asking friends, family and (heck, why not?) random strangers what they thought.  It’s not difficult to wear, just a little peculiar — that unfamiliar sweet smell along with the vanilla.  Maybe they were just being nice to the crazy lady, but they loved it.   Women thought it was “sexy.” One man said, “delicious.”  So what do I know?  I guess it’s all that and a bag of chips (or more accurately, a bag of foreign candy.)  It’s an odd little thing, and I have to admit it grew on me.  This morning I was done fiddling with it, but I put it on anyway.  Just because I wanted to.

Outside of airports, 7:15 AM in Bali can be found without too much difficulty at various e-tailers for around $40 for 50 ml.  Image: fragrantica.com

Being a nail polish newbie, I missed all the NARS Zulu drama last December.  My understanding is NARS had already discontinued the color and had it in their clearance stock, and then Sephora featured it on the cover of their Beauty Insider holiday issue – where it immediately sold out because the stock was already essentially kaput.   People have been mourning its demise ever since.

Maybe you’re also a newbie and you’re reading this and thinking, what great thing did I miss out on?!?  (Kind of like finding out about the clearance bottles of Gobin Daude after the fact.)  So I was amused to see, browsing the online reviews at places like MakeupAlley before Zulu achieved cult status, a lot of complaints about how streaky and crappy the application was – I think because it must be a jelly finish.  Judging by people’s online snapshots, it’s hard to get perfect application around the edges.

I’ve gazed at online photos of Zulu on places like nailgal (speaking of dangerously addictive nail porn, because I can search by color and finish), as well as people’s various attempts at Frankening a replacement.  I’m not going to mourn something I don’t have, but I admit I found the concept of a dark green cream/jelly pretty alluring.

So today’s brief post shares a particular discovery I made last week, available at your local mall’s Hot Topic (and their online store) and pretty regularly on eBay – LA Colors Art Deco nail lacquer in Forest Green, and here’s a link to the page.  I bought it at the store just to check it out because it had no shimmer and might be a good substitute for Rescue Beauty Lounge Recycle.

First, the bad news – it’s in one of those mascara-shaped glass bottles with a thin eyeliner type brush, presumably for painting little doodads on your nails.   I wanted a regular brush, so I bought a bottle of clear $3.00 polish at Target, dumped it out, and poured this in – and it’s only about half a bottle, so you’d need two to make a full bottle.   At that point you’re already into it for $9, right?

The good news?  The polish is killer – easy application, nice consistency, and the deepest, darkest green you could have without it fading to black in indoor or indirect lighting.  With two coats it has a look somewhere between a jelly (slight cuticle drag and some translucency) and a cream.  With three coats the finish becomes less jelly but it still has depth.  I threw a coat of Seche Vite on top because I like my nails super shiny.  The final nail color, by the way, is darker and richer than what you see in the bottle.  It looks darker than nailgal’s photos of RBL Recycle, and it looks darker than the online photos of the Hot Topic Kelly Green (apparently no longer available) that people were frankening.  If you wanted it even darker, you could always add a few drops of black.

Is it a dupe for Zulu?  I don’t know.  I don’t have a bottle of Zulu and likely never will.  But my nails looked very much like the Zulu photos on nailgal — minus the messy edges.   Zulu or no Zulu, it’s a great cool-toned, surprisingly sophisticated green that wears well (five days, no chips) and garnered me tons of compliments.  It also gives me what I’m calling The Snow White Effect – it makes my pale hands glow the same way the perfect lipstick can light up my face.  For any of you jonesing for a deep green with no shimmer, it’s probably as close as your nearest mall.

By Musette

Please welcome frequent commenter, motorcycle queen, Chicago Scent-sation goddess and today’s guest blogger — Musette!

Jane Russell.  Voluptuous, earthy beauty.  She was never the delicate princess, never the waif, never rescued by the prince.  Jane wasn’t flitting across the moors like a woodsprite, she was rolling around in the hay or punching a guy in the mouth.

I didn’t want to be Jane Russell.  I wanted to be Twiggy.  Never mind that I’m 5’9”, with a rack you could set a coffee cup on (and put a tea service on the ‘back’) and at the height of my powers could bench 200 lbs without breaking a sweat. 

I wanted to be Twiggy, dammit.  Or Jane Asher, Paul McCartney’s Beatle-love.  Or…well, you get the idea.  Winsome, heathery/feathery, all smudged eyeliner, flat chest and bony knees and windswept love on the moors…

… and so it was with perfume. As a young teen I saturated myself in Heaven Sent and Love’s Baby Soft.  As a young adult I had a thing for citrus – the more linear, the better (and the quest for citrus continues to this day).  Though they are delightful in the scorching heat of summer they tend to sit uncomfortably on my large, formal frame, like a wreath of rosebuds on a robust matron in a tweed suit and sensible shoes.

I kept trying, as my delicate, gauzy friends took to florals and citrus like little fairy-sprites, the b*tches.   And even as I honed my warrior prowess I still longed to be the waif, the delicate princess. 

But through all the absurd eyeliner, straightened hair and gauzy fantasies and the grapefruit scrubs… there was a dark, weird corner of my perfume psyche that never went away…  I didn’t know why I loved these perfumes.  I just knew I was never without them (even if I had to resort to petty theft of my mother’s dressing table):  Jicky.  Mitsouko.  Bal a Versailles (parfum).  Schiaparelli Shocking.

Can you say it with me?  SKANK.

As a little girl I used to sneak into my Tia Cornelia’s elegant dressing room and dab on a bit of Shocking.  It would surround me like a warm, flowery, slightly doughy cloud, like wrapping yourself in your mother’s dressing gown right after she disrobed to get into the bath, reveling in the smell of perfume, sweat, powder… the essence of her.    My own mother wore Shalimar and cigarettes, which I disliked, but one Christmas my father, who never paid attention to details, got her Mitsouko.  That was it for me…….I was in my mid-teens, too young to wear it, but I would pop in and just spray and sniff it, not understanding why I loved it so much.

But now we know:  SKANK.

Bal was a happy accident.  Remember when Joy was “the costliest perfume in the world?” I loved Joy (still do) but I wanted to be different, so I grabbed Bal, thinking it was 1000 (don’t ask).  I was 20, still too young, with no understanding, but somehow the love was mutual.    I have never been without Bal since and I’m thinking I would like to be pickled in a jar of it when I shuffle off my mortal coil.

Of course, it wasn’t until I fell in with the Posse that I could even put a name to this weird, dark corner of my perfume life.  I mean, it wasn’t lemons!  It wasn’t fresh and powdery and waiflike!  It wasn’t pretty and floral! It was ‘old’ and funky and weird!  I always thought jasmine was merely a pretty, delicate, sweet-smelling flower!  Who knew???!  But these these mainstays stuck around, bringing me an almost visceral pleasure, even when I didn’t wear them.  To use an old-fashioned word, they ‘suited’ me.

Still… something was missing – somewhere there was a scent that would tie it all together and Make Me Understand why these perfumes had such power over me.  Then La Belle Enabler March, taking pity on a po’ thang, sent me a little box.  And in that box was a sample of Rochas Femme EdP.

And in an instant my heart was yanked out of my chest and I understood.

SKANK.  Femme, like Bal, Mitsy and Jicky, contains an almost indecent indolic jasmine along with that faint sweaty-cumin note.  It’s the jasmine that truly captures my heart, though the cumin is necessary, in my opinion, to keep it slightly wet and grounded, keeping it from skittering off the planet.  But you gotta be in the right frame of mind for Femme.  When it’s right it’s like reveling in a sun-drenched, flower-filled bedroom, after a hot and heavy night – your lover has just left the bed and is in the shower, while you laze about, the bed-scents testament to the night’s passions.  When it’s wrong it’s like the same wakeup, except it’s 8:50am and you realize you have a 9:30 job interview and said lover is hogging the shower!

Mitsouko.  Perfection.  I liken it to silken body armor.  I wear Mitsouko when I want to take no prisoners.  And she gives me props, every time.

I once broke the arm of a man who was misbehaving.  I was wearing Jicky at the time. 

Now, La Belle Enabler is the Originator of the term “skank” on this blog (the Skankinator, if you will) where she states that indolic/animalic defines ‘skank’ to her.  We definitely agree that the indolic jasmine (the poopy parts), along with civet, is most definitely skankalicious.  And all of these have that (Shocking doesn’t list jasmine or civet in the notes I have but I’m willing to go to the mat that they are in there).   I’m more in La Belle E’s camp, thinking the indolic outweighs the sweaty in skank.  Feel free to disagree – and tell me why.   But now my shameful secret is out; I’ll never be a gauzy princess and my heart soars at the poopy parts of a finicky flower and cat-butt juice.  Me and Jane strap ‘em into our 18-Hours, there’s no rescuing prince, my jasmines smell like effluvia ….and if I’m on a moor nowadays I’m probably in sensible shoes and a warm jacket – and SKANK.

And that’s just fine by me.

What are your scents?  The ones that you return to time and again, through all the samples and decants and FB flirtations?  Floral/citrus/incense/dirt/whatever…what ties it all together for you?

ps.  Any skank recommendations?  I’d love to hear them!

Having been blessed all of my life with the most irrationally hopeful, joyous and optmistic outlook possible, there are some mornings, just in that instant when my eyes open from sleep, the world tilts slightly, and I feel sad somewhere down where you never look, like something that I cannot express is missing from my life, but I know not what it is, how I can get it, or why it makes me sad to not have it for just that one instant in the morning.  It perplexes me for the five minutes it takes me to head downstairs and let Buddy out and start my espresso brewing.  Where does it come from?  Why does it appear only then and then disappear for the remainder of the hours in my day?

Then I run across something that - as culturally attuned as I often think I am - shows me how little I know and how much I am oblivious to.  Anyone else heard of the Big Five?  Well, you can go here to see my results.  It feels a little unfathomable that anyone who has been reading here for any length of time would be surprised with my results.  Please share yours in comments.

And I’m writing this wearing Le Labo Aldehyde 44, which seems to somehow summarize both of those things above.  Then I contemplate when Le Labo will release its L.A. city specific scent, and should I get some more scents from Beautyhabit with their 25% off code good until the end of November, and will those new Mark Buxton samples ever get here so I can see if he can do something else besides the same great incense, and why didn’t someone tell me that one of those heated yoga classes with constant movement have better aerobics than running for 45 minutes?  I mean, they are freaking killing me in that class, and I can run about 3 miles a day and barely break a sweat.  Yoga tips, anyone have them?

But mostly, I want…. cupcakes.  I am so seriously jonesing for a cupcake, I could die, and I’m trying not to get one because I’m refraining from that sugar-inhaling activity. So could 11 of you show up at my house tomorrow, and I’ll make cupcakes and give you each one, and then that will leave one for me. Or is there a one-cupcake only recipe?

I’ve been noodling around with various posts but they haven’t quite coalesced (congealed?) yet so today we’re going to play a game, and you have to play too.  

Remember all the gotta-try, must-have fragrances — the darlings of the blogosphere/MUAers/POLsters, etc., two weeks or months or years ago?   Fragrances that you almost never see mentioned any more, because we’ve all moved on?  Because we had to, because there are now 90-gazillion releases a year?  (Examples off the top of my head: Wickle!  Les Nez!  Anne Pliska!  Ylang Ivohibe!  Sushi Imperiale!  Tea for Two!  Shalini!  Fifi Chachnil!)  Okay, dig up your sample or bottle of a similar niche darling and answer the eternal question:  Is It All That?   How did it work out for you?  Is there some fragrance with continuing cult fandom you don’t quite understand?  Something you thought was All That at the time, bought a bottle of, and now hate?   Ask yourself the question, and then comment:  Is It/Was It All That?

I’ll go first:

1) Cumming by Alan Cumming.  For me, it took a little getting used to.  Quote from his website: “But really, what could be better than smelling nice, feeling sexy and having a laugh?”  Amen.   Now I am desperately afraid it will be discontinued because while they have it online at Sephora (excellent!) it’s never in their brick and mortar stores, and why not!?  My personal theory about why this scent is so good:  First, Alan Cumming made a fragrance simply because he wanted to, not as an ancillary product in some giant celeb-retail empire.   Second, he had a clear idea of the kind of scent he wanted to do.  Third, he hired a man (Christopher Brosius of CB I Hate Perfume) who was perfect for the job: making an earthy scent with Cummings’ sense of humor: “leather, peat fire, highland mud, burnt rubber and white truffle ground the scent with rugged sensuality, while the core notes of cigar, heather, Douglas fir and rubber contribute to its sharpness. The fragrance is completed with spicy top notes of bergamot, black pepper, Scotch pine and whiskey.”  The result: a hilarious, bold, delicious scent that I’d like to replace half of the Sephora Everyman-juice with, and women can borrow and wear too.  The drydown is as smooth and mouthwatering as that whiskey.  Verdict: Is It All That?  Yes, and so much more.  By the way, if you have never browsed his hilariously naughty site (Cumming in a Bar!) and watched his dirty little commercial, here’s the link.

An aside (because my mind wanders): SJP did a good commercial scent with Lovely, and she was already interested in fragrance before she made it.  But I wish she’d make the scent she wanted to do in the first place and Coty wouldn’t let her because it was too edgy for them  – a riff on her longtime personal blend of CdG Avignon, Bonne Bell Skin Musk and some unspecified Egyptian oil.  Now that I’d like to smell.

2) Serge Lutens El Attarine.   Come on, people.  Seriously?  You love this that much?  I would think this smelled interesting and sniff-worthy if it didn’t smell like bits of, oh, I don’t know, five or nine other Serge Lutens scents, from Arabie to the Bois series.  How many more of these are we supposed to put up with?  The Emperor has had no clothes for quite some time, although I was willing to give him his silk undies back after Serge Noire.  With the arrival of El Attarine, the man is not only buck naked but he’s back to waving his little, dried-up curried wood at me.  Tell you what — I’m going to go by the Secret Serge Special Sauce Room hidden away under the Palais Royal in Paris, tie up the staff, and take away their (clearly unlimited) supply of curry, stewed fruits, and faux-bois.  Verdict: Is It All That?   No.  Serge?  Try something different.  You could call Chris Brosius, maybe he’s got some ideas. 

Okay, your turn!   Thoughts on Idole?  Worth Courtesan (snerk)? Stoned?  Or any other obscure-ish scent you sampled?

Has it been over a year now since the Tom Ford Private Blends first showed up?  Well, they keep adding scents, the newest is Champaca Absolute.  Now, right off the bat, I am predisposed to loving this as I love Champaca, but Tom Ford does annoy me beyond belief.

First let’s go to the marketing material to get our notes:  “Tom Ford has always been partial to the color white for the indelible impression it makes in everything from fashion and decor to flowers.  Now, with this new floral oriental composition, he has created his homage to the eternal, seductive power of white.  An ‘olfactive millefeulli.’  It reveals many layers of complexity starting with the opening notes of Tokajii wine and cognac to the sensuous heart of champaca absolute to the final warm notes of vanilla bean, amber and sandalwood.”  I’ll not pull any other “Tom Ford is a God” quotes from it.

It starts off a little sweet, I guess the booze notes, but my nose isn’t registering them as much as booze notes as odd-sweet’ish, but not a sweet I don’t like - a pretty floral sweetness that’s elegant with a wild undercurrent, playing in what I think of as a funkier Tom Ford base.   Compared to the other Tom Ford Private Blend’s, it’s a nice departure into a white floral rather than some of the weirder and heavier scents he’s done.   

But I’m still going to Ormonde Jayne’s Champaca as my favorite champaca of all time - it just has a timeless beauty and elegance and sillage to it that charms me completely -  but Tom Ford’s Champaca one has some interest beyond just a straight-up champaca to recommend it, and I think it will find more than a few fans.

My question today, now that we have lived with the Tom Fords for a while, including his White Patchouli (which I won’t even review, I detest it so much), what is our opinion, and do you have favorites, or do you just give Tom a complete miss?

I admire Estee Lauder (the woman and the brand) for producing some scents I really like and then not discontinuing them, thank you very much.  My favorites tend to be from their back catalog – the original Azuree, Private Collection, Youth Dew, Cinnabar.  Even if the Lauder department store areas have a nasty habit of hiding these older gems behind the counter, what’s not to love about a company with several fragrances from $35 - $65 (check their website), which in today’s market is essentially free?   I admire rather than like most of the “newer” releases like Beautiful, Pleasures and White Linen.  Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia was beautifully done but not my sort of thing at all.  Sensuous is all right, but I can only really smell it in the lotion, and even the summery Bronze Goddess was more a cheerful ripoff of the smell of tanning oil than a new scent idea, although I bought a bottle.

So I wasn’t anxiously awaiting the new Private Collection Amber Ylang Ylang.  For me, “amber” in a fragrance name is often associated with some viscous, cloying smell that smothers me like the proverbial trapped fly.  The marketing materials say Aerin Lauder “drew inspiration from the luxurious simplicity of her own private world.  The fragrance captures the essence of an enjoyable evening in a warm, inviting room filled with the luxurious textures of wood, velvet and cashmere in browns and golds.”  The words private and intimate are repeated throughout the release.  Notes are bergamot, geranium, golden amber, ylang ylang, Bulgarian rose, honey, incense, vanilla and sandalwood.  (Elsewhere there are references to Ceylon cinnamon that didn’t make it into the main list of notes.)

I’m under the impression Amber Ylang has gotten a somewhat lukewarm reception among perfume nuts, and a first sniff gives me a suspicion why – if you are a fan of their Tuberose Gardenia, surely Amber Ylang is rather mousy by comparison.   Tuberose Gardenia is an elegant, dressy scent that commands a certain amount of attention when it makes its entrance, whereas Amber Ylang is more likely to sneak in quietly through the side door and be sitting in that comfy plush velvet chair over by the fireplace, drink in hand, before you even know it arrived.

And for some of us, this may not be a bad thing; even the most enthusiastic perfume lover can crave the occasional fragrance that doesn’t stalk into the room like Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada and hurl its fur at you in a diva-esque fit.  Amber Ylang’s development is linear and unsurprising – the spicy-green pop of geranium and bergamot that fades almost before it’s registered, followed almost immediately by amber and its sidekick, the ghost of Play-Doh, that unique, doughy smell that can pop up for some of us in amber scents like People of the Labyrinths’ Luctor et Emergo (aka POTL) and Anne Pliska.  I can’t detect the rose at all, and the ylang ylang and honey are rich rather than sweet.  The incense (and the cinnamon?) are spicy-resinous, reminiscent of benzoin rather than something more churchy.   There’s a mildly woody phase somewhat reminiscent of Sensuous.  The drydown is a warm amber-woody-spicy vanilla.

Amber Ylang wears close to the skin, but like your softest pima cotton camisole, it’s there snug and warm for the entire day.  I could still smell it faintly on the back of my hand in the morning.   I experimented with wearing it at different strengths – a couple small spritzes vs. drenching myself, and while I enjoyed it even in higher doses, on one afternoon (and on my shirtsleeve) I got quite a bit of Play-Doh, although there was still enough else going on in the scent I really didn’t mind it the way I do in POTL and Anne Pliska.

Amber Ylang is certainly less of a powerhouse than anything like Beautiful or Beyond Paradise.  For all that, it’s pretty.  If Sensuous and Amber Ylang represent any sort of a directional trend by Estee Lauder, I’m all for it.   Amber Ylang may also be the first reasonably amber-laden fragrance I want – amber for those of us for whom a little amber goes a very long way.

Amber Ylang Ylang as a concept is not exactly uncharted territory.   On the other hand, I wore it for several days and there is a restraint and level of sophistication I find interesting.  It’s not gourmand, and it’s not a cupcake scent – I could wear this to a business meeting and not feel like I was smelling girly.  It’s not bitter like Annick Goutal’s Vanille Exquise, but it’s fully adult in the same way.  So.  For those of you who were hopeful of another blockbuster like Tuberose Gardenia – you didn’t get it.  For those of you in the market for a quietly elegant comfort scent that would work all day and into the evening, Amber Ylang Ylang might be worth trying.

image, neimanmarcus.com: the fancypants 1oz. parfum bottle of Amber Ylang, for $300.  If you want EDP and a plain cap, I believe it’s $65.