Even though we never actually had a spring this year (Lee: speak for your Yankeedoodledandy selves, ladies. I’m having a supersmashinglovely spring across the pond), we’ve decided to go ahead and do the Top Ten post.  Patty, Lee, March, Nava and Musette/Anita crunched the numbers and discovered they each got to pick two…

Patty -  Me first?  Yikes!  My favorites for this spring are Byredo Gypsy Water. I ‘m not sure it’s very springlike, but it has a soft addictiveness that’s really gotten under my skin since the moment I first smelled it.  If I could find it anywhere, I think I’d break down and get a bottle.

My other new spring favorite for 2009 is CB  I Hate Perfume’s premium Accord of Wildflower Honey. I’m never entirely certain if I love or hate the smell of honey in perfume, though my mind has flipped on Serge Lutens Miel de Bois where I tolerate it fine now and used to run screaming for the Borax to scrub my skin before.  Wildflower Honey still has that rich honey note in it, but the wildflower softens it, and it just smells like spring with all the abundance of the earth flowing from it. It’s pretty magical.

Lee – I’m going for the sublime and the ridiculous.

First of all, though it’s really all about the heat of summer rather than the fickleness of spring, I’m choosing Parfumerie Generale’s Harmatan Noir. It’s as close to warm weather green as I get in perfume (barring my one exception, Philosykos, but that’s STRICTLY SUMMER ONLY), but it’s dusty green, dried herbs, parched air. As a counterpoint to all that aridity, there’s a mint tea accord singing a different tune from start to finish, never resolving itself with the dry elements, but always a melody apart. Somehow though, they make a marvellous harmony together. Add in some cedar, a touch of something almost floral, and it’s the perfect embodiment of summer heat, which is at its best when you hope for it, and somehow never quite right when it finally arrives. Unlike summer heat in Britain – sticky, brief, variable, and transient – this perfume, in spite of the complaints of others, lasts and lasts for me.

My second choice: not yet released. But when I saw this, I knew I had to have it. In celebration of all things geeky, ridiculous, and absurd, it’s the only thing I want. Move over Geranium pour Monsieur, you have serious lemming competition.  If like me, you’re a nerdy bonk with glasses and a penchant for space opera, you’ll have a hard time deciding between Tiberius and Red Shirt. The copy from Now Smell This for Red Shirt swung it for me:

“‘Because tomorrow may never come.’ Red Shirt is for the young, modern man of the galaxy who doesn’t hesitate; who revels in being alive today. Red Shirt Cologne instills confidence, showing the universe your strength, your valor, your devotion to living each day as though it could be your last. Bright, clean and direct with top notes of green mandarin, bergamot and a hint of lavender, Red Shirt finishes strong with base notes of leather and grey musk. It’s a daring men’s fragrance for those brave enough to place no trust in tomorrow.”

If you don’t get it, that’s fine. If you do, you’re geeky enough to know why I want this so much, seriously. And that’s enough said. Sounds like a spring fragrance though, doesn’t it?

March – Lee, one of the many reasons I love you is you can make me look like the soul of brevity.  Live long and prosper, my friend.  My picks are:

Strange Invisible Perfumes’ Lady Day/Untitled.  You can special order it, $250 plus shipping for 7.5ml.  I think that works out to $33/ml.  I picked this out of pure orneriness; in the depths of our financial depression, why not select something ridiculously expensive they don’t even stock anymore?  Lady Day begs the perennial question: is there a dollar amount for a perfume that is is simply too much for any rational being?  I invite you to ponder that.  In the meantime, I’ll acknowledge that a) it’s easily the most expensive thing I’ve bought per ml, and b) I have no regrets.  I’m not even rationalizing it, except to say I don’t buy many bottles, and I have nothing — nothing — that smells like this.  Gardenia, incense and green notes.  I don’t even like white flower fragrances particularly, but if there is a greenhouse in the afterlife it smells like this.  Like most SIPs it takes ten to fifteen minutes to get itself going, after which the sillage is extraordinary.

Chanel Bel Respiro – and thus through my magical perfume mojo I render one of Les Exclusifs an utter bargain – you get, what, a 200ml  bottle for $200ish?  Such a deal compared to Lady Day!  Heck, buy two!

Ever since Les Exclusifs were released, bloggers and commenters have discussed the glory of 31 RC, debated the iris merits of La Pausa and the strangeness (or not) of 18; is Coromandel headache-inducing;  is the Cologne worth it; what did they do to Bois de Iles, etc etc.  In the meantime, Bel Respiro sits unloved in my decant drawer.  In Perfumes: the Guide, Luca Turin describes Bel Respiro as having a wonderful old Vent-Vert-style top that fades into dullness.  I have the opposite experience – a mannered (if uninteresting) floral falling away on my skin over half an hour to leave a not-too-sharp, herbal greenness with a touch of Chanel cologne.  It’s like watching someone slowly snip the blooms off the top of the bouquet, leaving you with the stems.  I don’t like many green, grassy scents, a staple of best-of-spring lists; this is a galbanum scent even I can love.

Nava – I so need to get a life it’s not funny. I also have to stop writing about fragrance as if I’m writing research papers; a habit that may well be harder to break than quitting smoking. Is there a chewing gum for this?

My very favorite new release is Apothia Pearl. I’ve fallen so hard for this one, I’ve already drained more than half of my 50 ml bottle. As I stated in my recent review, it goes from fresh and light to warm and cuddly so seamlessly, it is a wonder to behold.

A stalwart in my collection, Nana de Bary Green is another warm weather favorite. It was re-introduced last year as an eau de parfum, minus the evaporation inducing bulb atomizer. Green is the nearly perfect blend of citrus and spice that doesn’t leave you smelling for all the world like a living, breathing gin-and-tonic. My only gripe is that even as an EdP, the lasting power is still somewhat suspect. I’m more than willing to live with that one tiny disappointment.

Anita -  Unless you have been living on my home planet in the Gamma Quadrant you know that I fell hard for the new Liz Zorn scent Violets and Rainwater.   The name suggested it would be this watery, Debussy-like dream.  Well, yes and no.  It does have a pastel-violet, watery open but just as I’m getting over the gauzy bits this nice whump! of damp dirt settles in and gives the violet an unexpected gravity, then it changes again.  You’re slightly chilly and damp in front of a Lexington Avenue florist, with the cold rain hitting the concrete, and a pot of violets has been overturned and trodden on the pavement. Just as you are thinking about feeling sad about the violets and the cold, wet afternoon, the rain slackens, the sky lightens and a warm wind carries the promise of a lovely evening and you realize that if you just pick the damn pot up and put the violets back they’ll be just fine. And so will you.  Full Bottle, bay-bee.  Full Bottle.  And maybe another when this one is gone…

Not New but New to Me:  Rochas Femme in both iterations.  Femmmmmmme.  This one is Missy March’s Fault, bless her soul.  What can I say without blatheration?  umm, let’s see:

New Femme: perfect, totally female  (how obvious.  I am ashamed), warm, way more nuanced than many fragrances trying twice as hard, a scented silk stocking  sloooowly pulled off a shapely leg.

Vintage Femme: A mother-of-pearl stiletto slid into the top of that scented silk stocking.

For other top ten lists, please stop by Bois de Jasmin, Grain de Musc, Now Smell This, and Perfume-Smellin’ Things.

March

As I’m sure some of you have noticed, I’ve been spending more time with lower end scents instead of the uber-expensive, trying to scrape some of the niche snob off of me and finding some things that surprise me that I really like in the lower end.  I may not be swooning with joy and declaring it the great perfume love of my life, but every now and then mainstream gets it right, and the price point is almost always preferable.

So while some of these may not be as exciting or fun as the latest Malle or Serge, they do deserve some love for what they do accomplish.  And I need to amuse myself waiting for that new JAR to drop.

Which brings us to Sean John I Am King.  Who, but a man with a monstrous ego, names their scent that?   No surprise that it’s the former P. Diddy.  I have him to thank for that winding up being my office nickname.  Fully expecting to hate this when I sniffed it, I found myself thinking – hey, that’s not too bad. It’s not a Mitsouko or Jicky or anything remotely new and breakthrough on the cologne front, but it’s absolutely wearable and smells pretty great.

Notes are Tangerine, Orange, Cranberry, French Berry, Kir Royal Cocktail, Water Accord, Key Lime Pie, Lemon Crà¨me, Labdanum, Cedarwood, Vetiver, White Moss, Sandalwood.

I’m not sure where that list of notes comes from, I’m not smelling most of them. The fruit in it as a men’s scent makes it interesting on the open, keeping it away from the traditional fougere-wods motif that most mainstream men’s scents aim for and hit until you cry for mercy.  This has a lot of freshness in it, but not in that Tampax Fresh Accord way, more like bubbly fresh air.  Don’t get your hopes up about the labdanum, etc., there’s zero incense in this for me.  It’s like a slightly fruity vetiver cocktail imbibed out in the woods on a clear spring day with a light wind blowing and your nose buried in a freshly showered man’s neck – or something.

My hallmark of whether I like it or not is asking if I’d like to smell this on a guy or would I not?  My answer is yeah, I like it, and I think it would smell great on a guy.  It doesn’t seem to be as unisex enough that I’d wear it, but it just has a nice clean yummy smelling vibe.  I”m thinking this is pretty much what P. Diddy smells like or should. Kudos to him for capturing his whatever in a bottle.

We do have another installment of “Let Patty Buy/Do It so you may not have to,” coming up next week.  I’m going in to get a spray tan.  This isn’t that Mystic automatic thing. This is where you get hand sprayed, which is supposed to be the finest self-tan money can buy.  I’m optimistic that this will be the solution for me.  I like the look of a light tan, but I won’t sacrifice my delicate beauty (!?) at the altar of looking like I’ve been out in the sun.  Have done the Mystic tanning in the past, it turned out blotchy and just gross. Have tried the self-tanners, and the first application of the season goes great, and then it’s just downhill from there as it gets more uneven. It always ends in tears as I have to let it  wear off and start from scratch again.  The few that have worked well always seem to wind up with a streak mark here or there or a spot where too much blobbed on and is darker.  And that look seems worse than nothing.

Look for that next week! And maybe some Carnival Wax reviews, too, since I think I may have twisted an arm to get some samples.  Love the names on them.

Patty

Today — two woody/saffron fragrances, one of them ethereal and one of them dense.

I was getting into perfume at about the time IUNX was shutting down.  Like the Gobin Daudes, they were gone before I had any real sense of what I was missing.  The Eaux always seemed evanescent (hey, they’re eaux), but I thought Splash Forte and L’Ether were both pretty great in different ways.  Now that IUNX is back in business I don’t feel guilty about blogging about them; the scents were almost impossible to find.  (I think they’re available at Hotel Costes in Paris — so, okay, they’re not easy to get.  But not impossible.)  While I like my big, bombastic sillage as much as the next gal, as I reach the bottom of my L’Ether decant I can appreciate its subtle virtues.

Notes are myrrh, benzoin, rosewood, saffron, maple wood, white sandalwood.  Patty finds it has a smell that she associates with horses, in a good way.

The fragrances are composed by Olivia Giacobetti, and L’Ether has her handprints all over it.  Less sweetly floral than L’Artisan Passage d’Enfer, incense-ier than Matthew Williamson Incense (speaking of long-gone scents I weep over, and my decant is almost empty and the rerelease is totally different), and more soft and woody than Safran Troublant, L’Ether is probably my ideal contemplative scent.  I wish I got a shade more saffron, and I wonder whether it’s been tweaked in the re-release, but sniffing the back of my hand over and over I ultimately find myself surprised to have a similar reaction to Patty — in my case it smells like being inside a saddlery, with the smell of wood and expensive leather mingling in the background.  It is mildly incensey without being remotely churchy.   I have no doubt that many people would find it too light to bother with, and that’s fine.

At the other end of the saffron strength spectrum is Costume National 21 – notes of bergamot, milk, orange blossom, saffron, cumin, pepper, cashmere woods, royal jelly, moss, clary sage, patchouli, olibanum, amber, sandalwood, oud wood, cedar, vetiver, labdanum, tonka bean, vanilla, musk.    I had a tiny sample of this, but failed to secure a bottle. (Unlike the rest of the Costume National scents which I remember as ambery and are now all over the deep discounters, 21 doesn’t appear to be anywhere outside of places like LuckyScent.)  Now I have a decant that will probably last forever although I wear it regularly.  Why?  It is ridiculously strong on me, particularly given those notes.  You’d think it would be soft and sweet, like KenzoAmour maybe, and you’d find yourself wanting more oomph.  But having to change clothes last week after overspraying, I’ve gone back to dabbing it on.  Dabbing tamps down the bits that smell like anise in favor of the sweet woods, milk and saffron, which is the direction I want it going anyway.  (Cumin-phobes – I am the cumin magnifier, and I can’t smell it.)  On the wrong day it’s almost too anisic and sweet like Douce Amere, and no thanks.   But I’ve learned to under-apply just as I’ve learned to over-apply L’Ether, and I’m glad to have both of them in my wardrobe, particularly in this year when it’s still wet and cold and our heat is still kicking on late at night.

March

I heard about the Halle Berry and Ellen on the Ellen Show drinking her new perfume. I don’t think we need to do that here, unless y’all do that in the normal course.

Halle Berry perfume

First, let’s take a look at the notes.  It’s a woody oriental scent. Top notes are Sicilian bergamot, fig leaves, and pear blossom layered over heart notes of freesia petals, hibiscus flower, and ultra mimosa. Bottom notes of sandalwood, driftwood, cashmere musk, olibanum sbsolute, and amber.

This goes on slightly perky with some nice floral bergamotty top peaks, interlaced with fig, but it doesn’t stay there.  It quickly heads right into a slightly sweet, figgy, very soft musky scent.  It’s warm, the freesia keeps it on the sweet side throughout its play, but not teeth achingly sweet, and it’s pretty addictive. It reminds me of several designer scents, but crosses between them enough that I can’t quit pin it down, so it will just be its own scent instead.  It veers into the muskiness of Narciso, but it’s not as heady, more G rated. The bottom notes really get all the play here.  I don’t get a lot of incense out of it, but that’s not a bad thing. I think it works perfectly as it is. I can’t find the pricing on it, but I’m fairly certain it’s very reasonable, sub $50 for 50 mls. If anyone does know the price, let me know.  Longevity is pretty decent.

This is one of the few celebrity scents I like.  Thought I have to admit Jessica Simpson Fancy, while too sweet to wearl for me, was pretty good for what it was and the target market it was going for. Halle does the same thing, but I’d happily wear this one – it’s easy to wear and I feel darn feminine in it. It would work, spritzed lightly, for day or heavier for night.  Figuring how heavily discounted it will be when it hits discounters, you can figure this one is basically free.

So I’m browsing my Best Summit Hikes in Colorado book, planning out which summits we need to go up over the summer. There’s like 50 of these, and a lot of them are the little known summits that  are not overpopulated with backpackers, and it’s going to probably take me 2-4 years to get through them, even I don’t do winter backpacking, which I’m thinking no right now, but experienced hikers say its really an amazing time of year to go, you just have to be hardened.  Does this all sound a little crazy?  We bought all of our backpacking gear during the big April snowstorm last week, and I’m still in sticker shock at how much it cost to outfit two people, and we still have one more to go, but he can wait until college lets out.  Those of you that take your dogs hiking, pros and cons? I’m not taking Vinnie, the bulldog – he just doesn’t get really excited about exercising more than wrestling the cat. Buddy the lab, though, would just think this is heaven.

Winners of the YSL Nuit d’Homme samples are:  Natalie and and Eric.  Click on the Contact Us button on the left, shoot me your address and remind me what I’m sending you.

Patty

Thanks for everyone’s input on the blog setup last week.  So.  We won’t do jumps, we’re working on the blog ads, and I’m still trying to fix the errant comments box.  Also, I know it’s our problem and not yours, but FWIW several people said after they added on or upgraded their adware on Safari, Firefox, etc., the popups went away, and others said that clicking directly through to comments seems to suppress them.

Another commenter said, very politely, that preferably we’d stay on topic – perfume – and leave the off-topic posts on makeup, etc. to weekends.  I replied that I understood and that, at least in my case, my off topic posts were born of desperation.  Inconceivable as it may seem, I can sniff samples for days and be uninspired by any of them.  I got another (very polite) reply that a “meh” review of something was okay.  And I’ll reply here that, again, in my case, I hate writing those.  They cause me physical pain.  They bore me to write them, so I can only assume that they’re boring to read.  And unless you’re Guerlain, I’ve pretty much stopped writing the really mean reviews, they make me feel petty.  It is utterly reasonable to show up to a perfume blog expecting something about … you know … perfume.  I just thought I’d throw out my two scents (I just typo’d it that way so I’m leaving it) about why you sometimes don’t get a perfume review.

Today I’m proposing a taboo topic – The Number.  That is, how many bottles of perfume do you own?  The Number is – like the number of one’s past lovers – often kept concealed and referred to obliquely, if at all.  Too low a number and you look like an amateur.  Too high and you look like a freak, or greedy.  I am sure that just reading this paragraph has caused some hearts to start beating faster in alarm.

This came up in my mind recently when a friend asked me (related to something else) how many bottles I had, although I don’t think she even put it that directly.  More related to storage issues.  I hemmed and hawed.  I equivocated.  Finally I offered this: I’d do a quick count of the number of bottles immediately visible on my walk-in closet shelves.

The quick-count number was 82.  My friend was impressed, and/or possibly a little weirded out.  How, she wondered, do you wind up with all those bottles?

Now.  Let us pretend, for the purposes of discussion, that 82 represents half my collection.  Which it does not.  It does not include bottles stored in the closet chest, backup bottles (Barbara Bui!  Theorema!), bottles boxed up until they’re in season or, uh, bottles kept elsewhere in the house. And this does not include samples or decants, “decant” defined as anything other than a manufacturer’s bottle.  But let’s double that 82, then round up generously and call it an even 200.  And then let’s peer into the brains of people reading these words.

Some of you are thinking: this woman is a total amateur.  I cannot believe I have wasted two years of my life reading anything she has ever said.  I am removing her from my bookmarks this instant.  For every one of those people, there are others who are thinking, 200 bottles of perfume in her closet?!?!?  What an amazing waste of money!  And shoe storage!!

There are people who hit the hundred or thousand-bottle mark and keep right on going.  There are people who have special storage arrangements constructed for their fragrances.  There are people who can’t face moving, because how to pack up all those bottles?

And you know what?  I am fine with that.  Eight bottles or eight hundred, whatever makes your wheels spin.   I can only address my particular case.  I don’t mind the samples, which I sort and store.  The bottles I find problematic not because I don’t have room for them but because a large collection of anything frightens me.  It’s not a perfect science but: when bottles come in, others have to go, and the rest I put away because I don’t want to look at them.  It’s too much.  They weigh on me.  In terms of my physical space, I am all about the illusion of control.  For the record — none of it makes me feel guilty.  If people can collect wine guilt-free, I can collect perfume, yes?  As long as I’m not bankrupting the family, I figure it’s nobody’s business but my own.

I don’t need to know your number, and I hardly expect you to type it in here, unless you want to, in which case, knock yourself out.  I’d be interested in any related comments, including reactions of others who see your collection (some people find mine baffling/horrifying), how you manage it, how it’s evolved over time, and how you feel about The Number.

stoppered bottles: coloradocandelabra.com

March