Guerlain has added a couple of new scents in the past couple of months, but before they roll out their city fragrances, which I’m really anxious to try, I better sniff the last two they released, Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus and La Petite Robe Noir.

Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus starts out pretty traditionally Mitsouko, but not as heavy or powdery, it’s just brighter. It retains some of the peachiness on the drydown, but veers off enough that it is never heavy. It’s not light by any stretch of the imagination. I find the approach with this to be similar to what Chanel did with No. 5 Eau Premiere. They have made Mitsouko more approachable.  She still retains her underlying petulance in this new flanker, but she’s not as hard to get to know. I do like it, but will always prefer the vintage parfum to any other variety of Mitsouko.

La Petite Robe Noir could not be further from Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus.  Notes of Sicilian lemon, licorice, almond, rose, smoky tea, musk and vanilla make this a far sweeter perfume, though I very much like the way the tea and licorice comes through and gives it an updated Guerlain feel.  For the first 30 minutes I had it on, I really didn’t think I liked it at all, too sweet, but then as the sweetness faded and the other more gourmand notes simmered into a distinctly Guerlain feel, I’ve decided I like it quite a lot.  Sort of the poor man’s Quand Vient La Pluie. It’s put together really nicely, though it’s not breaking any new Guerlain ground.  No matter, it’s really pretty, and I’ll happily wear it any day this summer.

Both of these are quite good and very wearable.  If appealing to a new client will keep Guerlain in business and producing the classics and occasionally a great new perfume, I have no problem with their new releases not being strictly “Guerlain.” They seem to stay in the roots of Guerlain, but make those roots easier to access for new perfumistas.

Winners of the Avon Absynthe bottles are: Rosanna Ellis, KT, and Ninara Poll. If you’ll just click the Contact Us button on the left, remind me that you won an Avon Absynthe, include your address, and I’ll send it on to the nice Avon folks so they can ship the bottle directly to you. Thanks to everyone who played!

Patty

The first release in the Dior travel fragrance line, Escale à  Portofino, came out last year but was in extremely limited release.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the only place you could get it here was Epcot Center at Disney World, and file that under “bizarre distribution decisions.”  As Now Smell This notes, it was to remain in extremely limited distribution, in one store in the US, although maybe it was in the Dior boutiques eventually?  I wouldn’t know, but there are so many releases I forgot about it in fairly short order.

And then, wonder of hilarious wonders, it did show up in one store — Nordstrom — which means that even if you don’t live near one, you can order it online.  It’s quite reasonably priced for an EDT, at 2.5 oz  for $65 or 4.2 oz  for $85.

I admit I wasn’t on fire to try it; it’s a cologne type, and I’m one of those people… really, how many colognes do you need?  They’re a necessity in the humid summer, along with my tea standbys, but I think Robin’s recent post on the Sisley colognes, and the comments thereon, reflect a reality for a lot of us.  Those Sisleys cost $165 for 100 ml, and no thanks.  Colognes can be lovely and refreshing and all, but they’re almost by definition short lived, and there are a lot of good options out there that don’t cost an arm and a leg.  Although yes, okay, I’d like a bottle of the Chanel Les Exclusifs cologne — but I won’t be buying one.

Escale à  Portofino’s notes are Calabrian bergamot, Italian citron, Sicilian petitgrain, bitter almond, orange blossom, juniper berry, cold spices (no, I have no idea what that means), cypress, cedar, white musk, caraway and galbanum.

First off, it wears more like the EDT it actually is, and less like a traditional cologne — it’s got presence and decent lasting power, not a scent that needs reapplying after 20 minutes.  And I know I hold onto most scents like a limpet, but I got pleasant whiffs of this for the balance of the day; I did three sprays with no ill effects.

It starts off bright and citrusy, as you’d expect from the notes, but pleasantly dry and slightly astringent – it’s got a little bite to it.  Then comes that moment when such things tend to break in one of two traditional directions — a “masculine” citrus/musky drydown, or a feminine floral one.  Instead, I get an interesting unisex Option C.  The orange blossom is mildly indolic but not soapy or powdery or sour, and the almond and caraway are brilliant here, the sharp, nutty/anisic richness a perfect foil for the orange blossom.  I wish I could find my darn samples of the Dior Colognes because I’d like to compare the almond notes and effect — Cologne Blanche or Bois d’Argent, I’m not sure which.   I never arrived at the point in the Portofino development when I think, eh, and lose interest.  Instead I’m served up with something faintly gourmand but at the same time refreshing — almond/caraway sorbet or maybe gelato?  I’m afraid to type that here in case it sounds disgusting to you, because it’s not — it’s fun and interesting and eminently wearable without being run of the mill.  Orange blossom had worn out its welcome in my house; I think I overdosed, and for awhile its powdery sweetness was nauseating.  Escale à  Portofino brings back the love, and the trick is, at least on me, a complete lack of powderiness, either from the orange blossom or anything heliotrope-y from the almond.  It’s good fun — more substantive than the Prada Iris but with the same kind of unisex joie de vivre.

If you’re a fan of orange blossom, and/or you’re looking for something cologne-ish in smell but that actually has decent lasting power but won’t gag anyone on the subway in July, and/or you’re getting a teensy bit bored with your Prada Iris and you hated the new orange one (it smelled wretched on me, that’s for sure) you might want to look at this.  In the meantime, I’m looking forward to Escale à  Pondichery, coming next month (although I don’t know where) with notes of black tea, Sambac jasmine, cardamom and sandalwood, also done (like Portofino) by Francois Demachy.

image: Nordstrom

March

Please welcome back our guest poster, Anita/Musette!

Chicago.  Perfume.  Howling winds and rain.  Must be a trend…

I slithered down Michigan Avenue into a couple of my regular haunts to dry off and see what’s new.

Guerlain had me hyperventilating;  at Neiman-Marcus there is an absolutely exquisite display of some stunning scents, many part of  Les Parisiennes collection, some of which are reissues of scents older than me (and that’s saying something!)

No, Djedi is not one of them.  Sorry.  Go getcha grave-dirt someplace else, you weirdos.

What is available is showcased in classic elegance, worthy of Guerlain and Neiman-Marcus’s hefty price tags:  three tiers of underlit glass, hosting a gorgeous array of those pretty gilded-cage bottles .   It’s like a little bit of 68 Champs-E, come to Chicago.  If you buy, though, be sure to ditch the bulb atomizer – it will drive you mad.

I didn’t get a chance to sample them all – there’s, like, a gazillion of them and I could barely keep my wits about me:  All those gorgeous little caged bottles, NOT holding Acqua Allegoria!  Names from another era  – Liu, Philtre d’Amour, Sous les Vent, Mayotte (Mahora)…..  Missy (Guerlain) and Douglas (N-M) were exceedingly gracious, allowing me to make off with a little bit of a couple of the juices so I could review at my leisure.   Since I don’t know what the hell I’m doing I decided to just tell you what they smell like to my untrained, alien nose.

Liu – This is the one created for Rose Kennedy, who was said to love Chanel No 5 but couldn’t wear it.  My research came after I sampled it and boy am I glad to know I have not lost my mind! I thought I’d picked up No 5 by mistake!  To me, there’s nothing Guerlinade about it though other, way more knowledgeable perfumistas say it is quintessential Guerlain.   I got bombs of powder and sparkly aldehyde at first and I was afraid it would be unwearable…..then it settled down to a Meyer lemon zesty gin cocktail thingy – yum.  If Chanel is East 80s  Liu is the same folks, just at a couture-casual dinner in the Hamptons.  Give it a minute to get itself organized on your skin.

Mayotte (Mahora) - Where Liu is tough to ‘get’ at first hit, Mayotte is easy-pease to understand – but don’t let that fool you.  This is YSL Paris’s imperious mother-in-law. Mayotte was wearing Louboutins before Christian was born and has stroked the knee of her younger son’s roommate…and his girlfriend.  And the sloe-eyed pool-boy.  She ate the 80s’ lunch and is still going strong.  I think I’m going to wear this one to bed tonight.

Philtre d’Amour – Confusing at first.  Obviously Guerlain but I suspect somebody slept with Dior.   Shut up!  Try it and tell me what you think.  Very lemon/green.  I am thinking  I like it – a lot.  …simply gorgeous drydown.  You know how I absolutely HATE that Raid accord?  Well, Philtre has it – but a really teeny bit and<gulp> it actually boosts the interest here.  If you tell anybody I said this I will have to kill you.

Vega - I have sampled it three times and I still don’t know what to make of it.  I could try to fake it but I just find it baffling.  I am smelling a hint of rubber erasers and while  that’s intriguing, somehow that just doesn’t sound right, does it?

There are lots more, including Sous le Vent, which I could kick myself for missing …next time.

By the way, don’t bother going on either the NM or the Guerlain website for any info.  I think these scents are in Witness Protection.  Really.  But the SAs are really nice (the Guerlain ‘expert’ not so much) so don’t hesitate to call there for more info.

Met the lovely Vida for sniffage at the new Barney’s.  Fragrances are in the basement, which is really disconcerting at first (you get over it) but they have those Malle hooters – you know, those booths!  I adore the Malles, I really do but……..what’s wrong with just spritzing the stuff on your wrist?  If you go in the booth, doesn’t it get all over your clothes?  What if you hate the scent more than taxes?  Then what? Doesn’t it get in your hair and your shoes and all?  Do they get a cleaning service in when they want to change the scent?  Are you supposed to go in or just stick your head in…..obviously I need to research this further…

Back on Earth…  they have a staggering array of Le Labo (complete with a charming lab-coated ‘createur’ (I just made that up – I think they call her a ‘mixer’).  TDC – Vida and I fell in love with Sublime Balkiss – it’s definitely decant-worthy, possibly full bottle, with citrus and berries and salt. I don’t recall ever falling for berries before but this one is just lovely.  And I think Heeley Selmarine, with its salty goodness (and a touch of not-pink pepper), might be my August-in-Hell scent.  March will hiss at me because it’s both aquatic AND melon!  Maybe I can bribe her with an apron or something… but I wouldn’t bet on it!

image: Guerlain Les Parisiennes, nachofoto.com

First, for those who asked for pictures of my hand-applied airbrushed tan, I was at the end of the two-week cycle and ready for a new spray this week, so I’ll wait until after this application and see if I can get some pictures so you can see the color.

Hey, we have new Hermes perfumes!!!!  Jean-Claude Ellena has created two new perfumes for Hermes – Eau de Pamplemousse Rose, which means pink grapefruit, and Eau de Gentiane blanche.

Just to make sure everyone is clear on the Pamplemousse Rose, I detect no rose in this at all and no rose note is listed anywhere, so I presume the rose stands for the pink color to the grapefruit.   So those of you that run screaming from rose need have no fear with this.  Notes of orange, rhubofix (a Firmenich aromachemical with a “a zesty freshness and unique green rhubarb effect”), lemon, grapefruit and vetiver.  This is the happiest, most refreshing perfume on the planet.  It is all grapfruity zest on the open, not sweet, but not really sour, just a little puckish, enough to make you smile.  The perfect summer fragrance, you can just drown in this stuff if you want, and you’ll never offend a soul. The drydown gives a little of the vetiver for some body, but that’s pretty much the depth of this stream.   It is absolutely perfect for what it is, and I know it will be in heavy rotation all summer for me.  Both of these are priced at $125 for 100 ml. I’m not sure what the 200 ml size runs, but assume in the $200 range.

Eau de Gentaine Blanche has notes of white musk aromas, gentiana plant, iris and incense is dry, dry, dry, dry dry.  I love it desperately, but I”m sure a lot of people won’t. It’s earthy and rooty from the iris, slightly musky.  It’s like smelling baked summer earth.  This probably leans a little more masculine, but  I’m a huge fan and think it is perfect for women too.

Just a quick mention of the Kelly Caleche EDP release.  Now the release Robin cited says it has enhanced floral notes, and those notes include barenia leather, lambskin, rose, violet and vanilla.  I mean, yeah, the floral notes seem more discrete, but this is what I wanted the EDT to smell like – it haz leathah, ladies!!!!  Okay, not a ton, but more than I remember in the EDT, which seemed a lot sweeter and more floral.  I really should compare this side by side, and I’d be interested for others’ thoughts if they have smelled them side by side.  This is flowers in an expensive leather bag or, better yet, cradled in a sweaty cowboy’s hat on a summer night.   Oh, dear, I don’t really need to follow that thought.

Patty

A couple months ago Kevin at Now Smell This did a post on a Guerlain fragrance, Mouchoir de Monsieur (gentleman’s handkerchief) and the comments got sidetracked into handkerchiefs themselves, and their various delights and uses.

Well. As a mother of young children, my life (and my pocketbook, and my jacket pocket, and the glove compartment) is a purgatory of Kleenex, Wet-Wipes, paper towels, paper napkins and, occasionally, toilet paper – in other words, sufficient quantities of whatever disposable absorbent paper product is needed to stanch the flow of any substance leaking from or smeared upon one or several of my kids, leaving all further detail to your imagination in case you are reading this with your morning tea.

As I enjoyed Kevin’s post and the comments, the concept of a handkerchief – an Irish linen pocket square, for instance, pressed and perhaps tastefully initialed — had an immediate, profound, almost laughably pornographic appeal.   There I was, distracted by the tantalizing glimpse of an unsullied piece of fabric reserved for my own exclusive use, possibly for dabbing my feverish brow on a sultry day or, even better, using it to wave a fond goodbye to my family from the luxury deck of an ocean liner as I departed on a round-the-world cruise.

I’ve never owned a handkerchief in my life, but I got busy online with the fervor of the newly converted and bought some, and then Anita, bless her, sent me a supply from her local post-office/bakery/vintage/perfume shop, or another equally excellent small-town combination.  (In Santa Fe I used to patronize the gas station/sushi bar/video store.)   I decided I wasn’t a tasteful-white-Irish-linen gal after all – you know me – so instead I’m rocking the cheerful, retro patterns of the 40s, 50s and 60s – think bright ribbons, flowers, swirls of color, embroidery, and some amazing, matching hand-crocheted edging.  They are, I suppose, the Carmen Miranda or Wilma Flintsone of handkerchiefs rather than the Greta Garbo, but they’re very much me, and they’re lovely.  I now rotate them regularly into whatever bag I’m carrying, and I’ve had the opportunity to put them to a variety of good uses more than once.  It’s funny how such a little thing, a glimpse of one of them in my bag, can give me such pleasure.

Of course the next thing I did was experiment with dabbing them with scent.  I’ve got warm summer months coming up in which to do the obvious, which is to splash them with cologne – everything from cheapo 4711 up to and including delicious Guerlains like Eau du Coq and Eau de Fleurs de Cedrat.  Or, of course, I could try Mouchoir de Monsieur itself.  I’m also planning to try some tea scents.

But my cold weather experimentation has been kind of a mixed bag of success.  Fragrances that smell “pocketbook-y” – like makeup or the purses themselves – work great.  Cuir de Lancome, Malle Lipstick Rose, even (surprise!) a dab of Fracas smell glorious emanating from a hankie.

Less successful were my headstrong classics, and I’m not sure why.  For whatever reason, Mitsouko, Cinnabar, Jicky and Bal a Versailles were less appealing than I thought they’d be; maybe I really want to smell them on skin?   Vintage Femme was wonderfully leathery and worked great, but Tabu was disgusting.  I thought The Different Company’s Rose Poivree might work, but even a single drop of it began to get on my nerves, although YSL Paris was successful.

My traditional soft background comfort scents – KenzoAmour, Narciso, Worth Courtesan – smelled … well, kind of stupid.   Again, maybe those are scents that need the canvas of skin backing them up and helping them bloom.

Apres l’Ondee was perfect, even if it makes me feel a little guilty, spraying it on a hankie.

I tried to think if I have any other personal-item anachronisms, and the only ones I could come up with are aprons, all patterned (some vintage), half or full, because what’s the point of baking if you can’t swan around in an apron?  Right now I have my eye on the long one from the Neue Galerie that I’m just too cheap to buy.   Also, I use the disposable Varsity fountain pens, they work fine left-handed and they don’t seem to leak, although I think a fountain-pen traditionalist would sneer.  They used to be all black and more chic looking.  Oh, and my Red Cross orthopedic shoes, of which I own several pairs which I actually wear, as some of you have seen.

Do you have any such vices – shaving brushes, hats, walking sticks or canes, or other objects of affection (or affectation) you care to admit to?  Do you carry or scent your handkerchiefs?  Red lipstick is sort of in this category, isn’t it?  And as we “evolve” more as a society with perfume itself viewed in the context of annoying those around us like cigarette smoke, will scent be an anachronism in 20 years?

images: Jonathan Rhys Meyers lets his freak flag fly in Todd Haynes’ trippy Velvet Goldmine, which has a fun soundtrack (Bowie wouldn’t let them use his music, so they wrote their own, as well as some fine covers and originals from Roxy Music, Lou Reed, etc.).    Ten years later and JRM’s … still wearing breeches, now in The Tudors.

March