Winners of the Creed Windsor samples:  Theresa, Jen, Anita,  and Sherobin.  Just click on the contact Us button on the left, send me your address along with reminding me what it is you won.

It arrived a few day ago, unsniffed, for my personal collection. I loved Homage so much, I knew I couldn’t go wrong with Tribute.

I barely dotted a drop on a wrist, went downstairs to talk to my son, and his first comment was, “what smells so good?”  That drop was permeating the room and wafting like  a pig farm in the summer.  Of course I mean that in a good way.  I went to the movies about 30 minutes later, and I was filling the theater with this magical scent.

My sister is out staying with me, I let her smell it, Homage didn’t work for her, so she wasn’t expecting this to work either.  She sniffed it up close and went “Ew, no, just no.”  She left the room, I put on a drop, came back to where she was maybe 30 minutes later, and she goes, “What smells so great?”  That’s right the “ewnojustno” Amouage Tribute Attar.  She still wasn’t sure.  Today I had it on – again – as we walked out of the house to go to the car, and she was behind me snuffling, asking — “oh, wait, it’s the Tribute, right?”

Reader PSA:  Much gushing ahead.  I’ll try and restrain myself

Notes are Rose Taifi, Jasmine, Saffron, Frankincense, Cedarwood, Tobacco, Leather, Patchouli, Vetiver.  This thing comes out of the bottlle like the fiercest, smokiest rose covered in leather and tobacco you have ever smelled.  Think Hell’s Angel Rose.  Put your nose down to it, and it’s floral dipped in diesel, mostly diesel, not so much floral.  I say that with love because I’m fairly fond of that. But  if that’s not really your thing – diesel, I mean -  just wait a while, put it on in a location far from your nose and wait for it to perfume the air with saffron and spices.  This thing spins and whirls and changes in the drydown, leaning more to the leather, then the rose comes back through, and then it feels like almost all spice and saffron, then it starts huffing smoky vetiver like a coal-fired locomotive.  I don’t know that I’d say it’s a rose perfume.  It is, but it’s so much more than that.

I think of all the trite words I can use to describe this, and none really work.  Complex, rich, full-throated.  I’m bewitched.  Yes, I do know sound like a complete Tribute Fan-Girl.

Amouage says it’s a limited edition, but they said that about Homage, and it’s still being made. It is an oil, and it really will last all day in various incarnations.  $350 for 12 ml and $650 or 600 for 30 ml.  Yes, it’s a lot, but seriously, a drop is all you need on one wrist. If you want to smoke out a movie theater, do what I did and put on two drops.  Well, the movie was “The Road,” so I thought it was a lovely smell-a-around effect.

Absolutely I’m sharing some of this in a drawing.  The little samples up for drawing will be small since this stuff is like $20-30 a ml to buy, but I will give away two small samples to two commenters today.

Patty

On Saturday I had a fragrance emergency.  We were on our way out the door to a holiday cocktail party, and we were already late, when I realized in all the chaos that I’d neglected to apply any scent.  Which in my world is akin to leaving the house and noticing I’d forgotten my pants.  It just wouldn’t do.  So everyone had to hang tight for one more moment while I chose a fragrance.

Notice I did not say “selected the fragrance” or “selected the perfect fragrance.”  My track record on those occasions has been mixed.  There are times when I know absolutely without fail that either Mitsouko parfum or vintage Femme will be perfect.  (Sometimes my vintage Cinnabar parfum slips onto this list.)  Other times I am not so sure.  The vanillic confection is too cloying.  The floriental that caught my eye at home fails to enchant.

The event we were attending was a teensy bit fraught.  It was given by a friend of my late mother-in-law’s, in the lovely building she used to live in, downtown.  So I knew the dress was relatively formal, and I knew I could get away with a little more drama perfume-wise, because those ladies are used to perfume, although I didn’t want to overspray and kill anyone in a crowded party, which it turned out to be.

More worrisome was the fear of attaching a mixed bag of memories to a favorite scent.  I haven’t been to that building since we closed up the apartment prior to sale, and what if the whole thing made me sad?  It’s possible.  I loved visiting my in-laws down there.  I felt like a fairy-tale princess every time we pulled into the circular driveway out front and the doorman swung the door open.  The building has gargoyles.  My children still call it “Grammy’s castle.”  I spent countless hours there, under the eye of a woman who treated me (for better and worse) as her daughter, who did a lot of living and was no wallflower.  The men would pour themselves drinks and wander off to the library to do something boring, like watch golf on TV.  She and I would curl up in her yellow club chairs, under my favorite painting, a cheerful abstract thing done by an acquaintance of hers, and gossip, she with a martini and I with a glass of champagne, served in one of the small, hand-painted flutes I still treasure.

So what scent to wear?  I had no idea.  In the 90 seconds I had to devote to the task I realized I didn’t want to wear anything that had intimate associations for me.  I wanted it to be as pretty and as free of emotion as a nice dress I’d borrow from a friend.  I was utterly out of time when I ended up grabbing the small bottle of Annick Goutal Passion that someone (Louise, honey, was that you?  Or perhaps Nancy?) left for me as a gift at my perfume party.  It was still in the kitchen, literally in front of me, so I wouldn’t have to run upstairs.  I knew I liked it, that it was sweet and frothy and acceptable, although I couldn’t quite remember what it smelled like.  I wear it occasionally in similar circumstances, when I want my fragrance to be something nice and undistracting.

And so we had a fine time, and I met and talked with many interesting people, including an erotic portraitist old enough to be my daddy, who was a riot.  And the evening was a bit bittersweet, if for no other reason than being there at that party, with those people, was a reminder that everyone has moved on, and I will never go to the old apartment again, butterflies in my stomach, before some fancy dinner.  That part of my life is over.  I peeked down their hall, but the corridor smelled different, and the wreath on the door wasn’t the one I remembered.

In its own way, Passion was perfect.  It is as sweet and cheerful as a macaron at the top; it seems just right for the movie Marie Antoinette, all vivid pastels and dubious substance.  But like passion itself, the fragrance is a little more complicated than it lets on initially.  There is something very slightly unsettling about it, a coolness that translates as a sort of yearning to me, and in the drydown it is more animalic than I remembered.  I wonder whether it was just the heat of the evening causing the fragrance to bloom on my skin.  At any rate, it got me through the evening smelling nice, and I didn’t find myself having to pause and mentally give it some attention, which I do sometimes with the fragrances I find most beautiful.

I was surprised to see that my review of Passion was in August, for some reason I thought it was longer ago than that, although I didn’t intend this as a review, more of a scent moment.  But I’d be curious to hear of a similar fragrance emergency — when you had to throw something on at the last second — and how it worked out for you, did you end up being pleased with or regretting your choice?

March

I forgot I was supposed to write this week. Work getting in the way. Sheesh. Here’s a list that you can respond to if you like – some perfume related thoughts partially organised.

Current comfort scent – I’ve had a bottle of le Labo’s Patchouli 24 for oh, I dunno, a couple of years. I bought it as a signed-up Annick Menardo fanboy. Don’t get me wrong; I loved it. But I never seemed to want to wear it. Other Menardo numbers - Bulgari Black, Lolita Lempicka pour Homme, Bois d’Armenie, even Body Kouros – seemed eminently more wearable. And so my bottle languished a little, hardly shrinking in its volume. When I did wear it, it would be one tentative spray. Now, something’s happened. I can’t get enough. Seven sprays seems too little, and every day seems too infrequent. It’s the oddest comfort scent I wear, but it’s long drydown seems like a haunting from the past and I just want to bring the past back, today. Lucan Turin says it smells like a Russian lab; for me, it’s my childhood chemistry set and the warm blanket that was my life as a child.

Current  ‘eh, when will I ever wear you?’ scent – Although Patch 24 languished a little on my perfume shelves, it never gathered dust. I always wanted to sniff it. However, there are other scents I own that I feel estranged from. And sometimes that’s for a short while. Other times, it lasts and lasts. Currently in that category for me is Comme des Garcons Sequoia. Why did I ever love this vinegary rum and wood concoction? It’s interesting, fer sure, but I’ve begun to feel the acidic quality that others pick up in Bertrand Duchaufour’s scents. It ain’t there (yet? ever?) in Timbuktu, which I continue to love, but it invaded Bois d’Ombrie (a scent that I adored for a while beofre it smothered me in libraries, ash trays and pickles) and seems to be hanging round the edges of the otherwise quietly wonderful Dzongkha. Oh hell. All I know is that Sequoia reminds me more of the employees of a pickling factory having their Christmas party than it does of the majesty of redwood forests.

Current ‘must sniff’ – I’m lemmingless and remain so. I love to hear other folks enthusiasm for new scents, but even when they meet with universal acclaim (the Cartiers, Amaranthine), I tend to think ‘oh, I’ll smell that eventually,’ rather than the: MUST. SNIFF. NOW. OR. I’LL. DIE desperation of two years’ back. It’s a relief I tell you. I get my obsessive kicks elsewhere these days (don’t start me again on plants or garden planning or I’ll show you the blister scars from planting over a thousand bulbs), but Al Oudh is at the top of my ‘get round to sniffing sooner rather than later’ list. It helps that it’s a Duchaufour (pickle issues not withstanding) and follows on from a new direction in his work. I’m not a oudh lover – at least not in its western perfume formulations, but this is supposed to trail cumin and civet and castoreum, and I’m nothing if not a man who loves perfumes with that hint of fleshly corruption – a hint of sweat and butt and ooh, you are naughty!, will always stimulate my fancy. If you’ve smelled this ‘un, let’s hear your thoughts. Denyse enjoyed it a lot.

So, let’s hear your similar list, or even different categories should you so wish.

Lee

The best plans and all that. After a long week of training on top of Thanksgiving travel have found me sitting at my computer, contemplating what to review or even type abut and coming up empty of ideas and energy.

March’s comments about Penhaligon’s Amaranthine sent me to Luckyscent begging for a sample.  How odd. In that way that Worth Courtesan is odd.  Green tea, white freesia, banana tree leaf, coriander, cardamom, rose, carnation, clove, orange blossom, ylang ylang oil, Egyptian jasmin, musk, vanilla, sandalwood, condensed milk, tonka bean.  This is some weird note mash-up that Tim Burton could have dreamed up.  Perky leaves, languid florals, powdered over with spice notes.  And there at the bottom is a little sweat note to make sure you’re paying attention.  Duchafour was on some weird trip  down the rabbit hole when he did this, but I think I want to come along with him.    It make me think of Alice in Wonderland – beautiful, overblown, kinda sweet if you cross your eyes with the smell of desperation setting in.

Huh, I guess I did have something to say.  I really wanted to ask you all, now that we are winding down the year, what perfume individually or line/presentation/collection do you feel made the best contribution to perfumery in 2009?  I’m leaning towards Cartier and Byredo.  Byredo because I wore Bal d’Afrique today and felt a tremendous amount of self-love/lust every time my scarf moved and wafted it upwards.  Cartier because I admire that they came up with an idea that represents a integral part of their brand, the watch, and gave it vision and depth.

Okay, your turn!

Patty

Welcome to today’s post, where I’m not gonna say a single thing about CREED {insert snooty trademark here} so we won’t get any rabid Creed fanboys stopping by and whipping out their – oh, never mind.  Well, anyway, it’s been at least a month since I reviewed a Kenzo, right?  Right?

In The Guide, Tania Sanchez says (and quotes LT agreeing) that the original Flower by Kenzo is quite similar to the original Royal Bain de Champagne by Caron, about which I would have zero idea, having never smelled that one, but if you’ve been lemming it, you might want to stop by one of the eleventy-million places that sell Flower.  While you’re there, I’d sniff Flower Oriental if they have it, which is probably my favorite Flower flanker, with a darkish, incense-y drydown.  I am also partial to the Winter Flower and Le Parfum.  The original Flower is just too powdery and sweet on me (hawthorne, rose, violet, hedione, opoponax, musk, vanilla) and it wafts a bit of that doughy thing I get, sometimes from amber and sometimes from heliotrope.  It’s done by Alberto Morillas, btw, for you fans.

A couple months ago, Kenzo released Flower by Kenzo I Have Another Boring Flanker Name Essentielle, the latest in a long line of flankers to the original Kenzo Flower, this one with an emphasis on rose, jasmine, more musk, pink pepper and frankincense.  And HOW COOL IS THAT BOTTLE!!!  Squeeee!   They’re even more stretched out than the others!

It smells to me more or less like I’d expect it to smell – a more condensed version of Flower, which I’ve been trying and failing to fall in love with for years, because it’s lauded by several people whose opinion I respect.  Essentielle strikes me as a stronger, more compressed, more effusive version of the original – although bear in mind that we’re talking about Kenzo here, not Serge Lutens.  This isn’t likely to bowl anyone over in the elevator.

I really like the top, which seems to me the largest divergence from the original.  Instead of the powdery onslaught that makes me wince a little, I get a whiff of something vegetal and green that reminds me of magnolia.  It also strikes me as less girly than Flower, probably closer to the Winter LE, although dangit, I can’t find my sample.  It never achieves the almost candied sweetness that the original achieves on me, although the drydown is similar.  There’s a breadiness to it that is also quite enticing.  After an hour or so it reminds me somewhat of Barbara Bui, only smelled side by side Barbara Bui seems more faceted and complex, with the honey top and the spicy incense, whereas Essentielle remains a perfectly smooth orb of scent.

Who would like this?  Well, fans of the original Flower should definitely give it a whirl.   People who sorta liked Flower but wished it were less powdery and sweet might also like it.  People who like powder/dough comfort, definitely.

Let’s throw this open to a general powder/dough discussion.  People get Play-Doh from all sorts of strange places – and a shout-out to our overseas friends, my understanding is that Play-Doh is in general an unhelpful reference for you all, being a quintessentially American product/smell?  Is that true?

Scents in which I get Play-Doh, or just dough, include POTL, Anne Pliska (so those are amber play-dohs?), Barbara Bui (powder-dough), L’Artisan Bois Farine (sourdough), and several of the Kenzo dealies.   Powder, like baby powder, can overlap in this area.  Sometimes it’s powdered dough.  Let’s see, what else?  Estee Amber Ylang is Amber-dough.  L’Artisan Jour de Fete is Play-doh/wet flour.

Dough I have a fair amount of tolerance for.   Powder, not so much.  Lorenzo Villoresi Teint de Neige, which is the powder against all powders shall be judged, much like Ambre Narguile (aka The Nazgul) is the amber of all ambers … gah, where was I?  Anyhoo, some people loooove that Teint de Neige.  I’d rather have a cavity filled, thanks.

Do you love dough?  Baby powder?  Both?  Where’s the overlap?  And what are some of the dough scents and powder scents I’ve forgotten?  I know there are lots.   Now’s the chance for you folks who hate L’Heure Bleue and Apres l’Ondee to come on out and tell the rest of us we’re idiots!

March