If you have just stumbled onto the Posse and have no idea what we do here, you’re probably thinking I’m about to review three new German novels, or that Humiecki and Graef are German philosophers and “Geste”, “Askew” and “Skarb” are some of their musings. Alas, they are fragrances, and I’ve finally gotten my keister in gear and snorted them sufficiently so I can offer my opinions.

First, Askew and Skarb are the more masculine scents. They’re not in the Brut, Old Spice, or Aramis category, so if you are a woman who likes your fragrance a bit on the butch side, these are right up your alley. I’ll save Eau Radieuse, Multiple Rouge and Clemency for next time. Maybe by then, I’ll be able to sniff Multiple Rouge without wanting to hork into my aunt’s composter.

The scents are available in the US at LuckyScent, but it’s best to look at H&G’s eponymous web site, only if you promise to protect your keyboard with Saran wrap against the inevitable spewing of your beverage of choice while reading the copy. Lee has dubbed them “Humiecki and Daft” because their copy is so over-the-top, you can’t help but think of them as such.

Skarb is “a fragrance about melancholy”. It’s comprised of lovage, sensual musk, barley extract, frankincense, myrrh, Roman chamomile and absinth.  I really like this one because it is comforting in the same way Annick Goutal’s Sables is, without the pancakes and syrup vibe. It’s musky and a tad boozy, but not in a very obvious way. I would probably love this even more on a crisp fall day, when the leaves have turned and the days are getting shorter, and you need a sweater or a jacket when you venture outside. It’s comforting, but not at all foody or gourmand. It doesn’t smell melancholy at all to me, but then again, I’ve secretly been spritzing samples of SJP NYC all over the house when my aunt is not home.

Geste is supposed to evoke “the softness of a young beau’s skin with the purity of a crisp white shirt, the sweetness of freshly baked bread, and the mystery maturity brings to love.” Its notes are soft amber, musky soft violet, soft petal, soft fir resin, and its inspiration is “A mature woman in love with a young man.” Sorry, but to my nose, Geste does not scream “cradle robber”. It is a potent, powdery violet, and it certainly wouldn’t smell appropriate on, say, a 16 year-old. It’s not one of those laundry detergent violets like Guerlain’s Insolence, and it does not smell at all of “crisp white shirts” or “freshly baked bread”. I do like the warm hint of amber in the background, but the violets are too overwhelming for my taste. Thank goodness, because if I got it into my head that I wanted to seduce Justin Bieber, this would be the last scent I’d wear. Kellan Lutz is more my speed anyway, and I still wouldn’t reach for this. Forgive me, but any male under 30 is bound to think “Grandma” if he gets anywhere near this one.

Askew is “a fragrance about fury”, with notes of birch tar, Guatemalan cardamom, soft leather, ginger, grapefruit, vetivert, and Egyptian mimosa. This one is by far my favourite. It is also more masculine than Skarb, probably due to the leather note, which is why I like it so much. It is faintly reminiscent of Parfum d’Empire’s Cuir Ottoman, and it does remind me a lot of Chanel Cuir de Russie. It killed me go anywhere near my bottle of Cuir de Russie in the midst of such an unprecedented heat wave, but I stuck my head in the freezer for about 30 seconds and I was fine. I would like this a lot more if the green sweetness of what I believe is the mimosa was removed from the composition. Then, it would be perfect; but still very far from pissed off.

I got a little carried away with the snark as regards to the copy, but sometimes, when you read stuff like this, you can’t help it. You just want to revel in the scent, not someone’s contrived drivel about what they think it represents. It’s part and parcel of the industry, so we’ll never be able to avoid it. But, they are well crafted, thoughtful compositions, and as we like to say, definitely NOT something you would smell in the department stores. At $220.00 for 100 ml., you’ll have to really be head-over-heels for them if you want to own them. But as the saying goes, they’re worth it. At least I think so…

Disclosure: All H&G scents in my possession are sample atomizers.

First, the winners of the small samples of Xerjoff Iriss are:  Paige and london.  Just click on the contact us button on the left, remind me of what I’m sending you and send along your address, and you can sniff this gorgeous iris for yourself!

Today is another iris, the latest entry from Serge Lutens, Bas de Soie.  Iris whore that I am, I’m a little nervous about this one because though it is getting a lot of admiration in the early reviews.  Iris and hyacinth seem to be the notes with the main focus.

It is heavy orris out of the perfume gate, though early on you do get some of the hyacinth very early.  I wouldn’t classify this anywhere near Iris Silver Mist, so don’t buy it thinking you’re getting ISM-Lite.  ISM is much rootier, with a little spice.  Bas de Soie is colder, metallic, a little soapy.   There’s a cold softness to it. I think the silk stockings is pretty apt, it has an exterior that is smooth, beautiful, untouchable, but the longer I have it on, it takes on a slightly bent aspect that’s almost soft and loses some of that soapiness.

Some people have noted that it has a blue smell, and I’d agree with that, it takes on characteristics that I associate with the color blue.  The thing that comes into my head every time I smell it, and it doesn’t change much at all after the first 10-15 minutes, is marble.  For me, that’s not a bad thing at all. Few things so cold feel so comforting to me.

As far as how I like it personally, I’m still mixed.   There’s something a little offputting in it which is also beautiful.  But isn’t that exactly what Serge tries to do in all of his scents?  That point of view seems to have been missing or hard to find in the lasts few scents, so I am glad to see it back.  I’d far rather not be sure about a fragrance, but turn it over in my mind a lot than to smell it, declare it great to wear and never think about it again.

So let’s give away a couple of samples of this so you can see for yourself if cold can be comforting or if you disagree with me.  Just drop a comment to be entered!

Patty

Hey, it’s me – Musette! March is all enchanted and everything,  EATING MY BREAKFAST BURRITO -  but am I bitter?  noooo….

let’s just talk about some new  Rose love, shall we?  That’s March’s favorite perfume note, right???

A week or so ago, WAFT by Carol unveiled an unknown fragrance from her incredible find: The Webber Collection; this post was (maybe?) the finale to a series  that read like a perfumed mystery thriller  -you can read about it here and it would be just flat-out ridiculous to try and do more than say ‘What Carol Said”.   I was lucky enough to snag a bottle of 6T (now called Enchante-Trois) from thewonderfully generous Carol, along with some other goodies, including a rose soliflore from a Dubai outfit called Malak.

I’m going to say 3 or 4 things about 6T and move on because it really is What Carol Said.  Some of the notes, based on her sniffage:  aldehydes for sure (but not too much), jasmine, maybe neroli (which is always iffy for me ) and a touch of bergamot, which I only know by sheer luck…and rose.  It is a lovely, soft fragrance, modern but definitely not contemporary.  I think it would be a  classic, if somebody could deconstruct/reconstruct it.     And I will be wearing it in early autumn, as the days cool off.  Right now, it’s a million degrees by 7am and even cats are panting and  6T got its lunch ‘et’ by 8:15, every single day, poor thing.   I kept thinking I must be a doofus because I am craving ROSE right now and I don’t even like rose all that much.  Maybe heat stroke?

I tested 6T all last week and the weirdest thing kept happening – it has just enough rose in it to make me want MORE ROSE – but  grindier-grittier/heavier/crunchy-munchy/I-will-beat-you-’til’-you’re-black and blue kinda Rose.   Jane Russell Rose, with the sweaty bra and the dirty panties and that nasty-girl curl to the lip.    I kept turning to the Malak, hoping it would do the trick – it’s got a darkness to it that I like (if Jane Russell were a vampire she would wear the Malak  to the grocery store – but not to the Cross Your Heart Club).   Very pretty but it’s so close to an actual rose that it freaks me out – real roses have that vaguely plastic smell that is divine in reality but I dislike in a rose perfume, which is why most of the Rosines don’t work for me.  This was getting kinda stupid until I realized that what I was craving wasn’t rose itself but rather that weird thing that happens when  rose top-notes dry off and you’re left with ashes of roses, like in Tribute Attar, with that smoky dryness.   But that’s not happening, me and the Tribute – it’s allergic to the dust in my wallet.  And anyhoo, it’s missing a jammy-squelchy thing I wanted in this chewy-hot weather …and that’s when I found out Jane Russell had a hot date in the back seat of the Chrysler with Ricardo Montalban out back behind the vampire club – he’d strewn oily Bulgarian rose petals all over the back seat of the Chrysler  Cordoba ….. did I mention the back seat of the Chrysler?  (in this story both Ricardo and Jane are in their prime and kickin’ it, so stop with the ‘eewww’ing )

That’s Cordovan Rose from Liz Zorn.  I am SO glad  6T pinked my memory.  I remembered I’d  bought a bottle for someone and then ‘forgot’ to give it to them (oopsie!) – it’s  a heat-seeking missile  o’ love, baby!  The rose-y rose burns off fast, leaving some hippish jam and tar and smoke and that Rich Corinthian Leather.  And way later the tar burns into the leather and the whole thing morphs into something vaguely rose-smoky-ash but by that time the rose is little more than a rich shadow imprint, which is fine because like I said  I don’t like Rose all that much anyway – it’s the ashy/burny/crispy/dusty stuff  that rose turns into that’s turning me on.   So thanks, 6T, for the re- introduction  -  you really are gorgeous and you’ll be the Queen of the Autumn Festival.

let’s see what you think.  Throw a comment on here about how you feel about roses, roses and leather, marshmallows, lutefisk or whatever in the chewy summer sun  – what unlikely note(s) really blossoms for you in the extreme weather (hot or cold) of wherever you are.  I’ll get my baby Rottweiler to pull a name out of his dish and the winner will get a sample of both 6T and Cordovan Rose.  You’re out of luck with the Malak – I used it all up – but you can contact Carol for info on that one. It really is pretty.

photo:  one of my paintings:  “Niobe” – don’t ask me what it has to do with roses – it’s 90F here @ 9pm and I am too sweaty and stupid to figure out Flickr – this will have to do. Those gals are baking in the sun, and I know just how they feel.

T6, Malak from my personal collection, with special thanks to WAFT by Carol

Cordovan Rose:  I bought it and I’m keeping it.  So there.

Quick Note:  I have to run out to a client so please continue to chat amongst yourselves  – I’ll be back later this afternoon to chime in.  FWIW:  unless you tell me specifically to NOT include you in the draw, everyone who posts a comment is in!  So don’t freak if I don’t respond to everyone individually, okay?  Carry on – mas tarde!

Sweet and savory.   Fig, Caviar.  Epic fail that will probably be a huge hit.  The bottle is super-interesting, and it’s not nearly as tragic weird looking in person. It’s got the Mugler name.  I really wanted to like it because the guys at Mane were so excited about it, and it uses their new Jungle Essence extraction.  Caviar and fig should go together in some weirdly unique way. But that they threw a gallon of Pink Sugar on top of it instead of letting the fig naturally sweeten some of the other notes mystifies me.  The caviar part – which I don’t read as caviar because that’s fishy and strong, and this is just salty – is interesting, and I kinda like it a lot, I think. It’s hard to tell in the cotton candy mess.  Think your kids snagged the caviar out of the fridge and shoved it in their Pop Rocks.

I don’t hate it, at least not at the level that I hate Angel.  But Angel, despite my loathing of it, is distinct, fully formed and lovable/hatable. Womanity isn’t nearly that offensive, and there’s a couple of moments while I’m wearing it that I think they’re onto something, and then it veers off into something else indistinct and murky and less imaginative.  Disappointing.

But that bottle.  I still can’t quite figure out whether I think  it’s the most atrocious thing I’ve ever seen or the most interesting. If only the juice inside had matched the freak factor of the bottle. I’m trying to think of other bottles that are great/interesting/freakish and the perfume inside doesn’t really come close to it.  Oriens is one.  Others?

Patty

This heat, it’s ridiculous.  We’re well on our way to the hottest summer on record, yes?  If not there already?  When we’re hitting the triple digits on multiple days, and I take a walk at 9pm and it’s still in the low 90s, something is seriously wrong with this picture.  This afternoon we were treated to some rollicking weather in the form of local downdrafts, and there are trees down and traffic lights out all over, with the resulting accidents you’d expect, because here in Washington, D.C. (motto: “I’m far more important than you are”) nobody treats the malfunctioning lights at intersections as four-way stops.   I had to go out for 20 minutes and saw three car accidents.

If you can’t take the heat you break out the gazpacho and lemonade, supplemented by regular trips to the library.  I now know everything I need to know about Scandinavia, reading all these thrillers.  I’m sure it’s like forming your impressions of the American south by reading Faulkner and Carl Hiaasen, or Donna Tartt’s The Little Friend, to mention one of the most surreal, disturbing books that has ever wormed itself into my brain and refused to leave – it’s a hybrid of To Kill a Mockingbird and Deliverance.

Tuesday I head to Santa Fe, along with Diva and Enigma, who were both born there.  We’ve rented a casita near the Plaza, and my plan is to eat as much green chile as humanly possible (breakfast burritos!   Enchiladas!), take some hikes in the forest, and have a hot tub and a massage.  Or three.  Yeah, I know.  Aim high.  Can I mention the food again?  How much I miss the food?  And the mountains?  And … all the rest of it?

Oh, wait … this is a perfume blog?  Okay, I know, but in this kind of weather I just can’t do any serious evaluation.  I’m blaming brain melt.  All my impressions are thrown totally off by the heat.  I put a temporary moratorium on stanky white flowers and have been alternating between two extremes:  my fridge-chilled bottle of 4711 (I know some of you do this with Jean Nate), and … Bal a Versailles.  Which I think I have finally decided I love most in the heat, even more than in the winter.  Bal is one of those fragrances that IMO any scent-curious person should try, there’s always a million of them on eBay, it’s been in production since the Second Ice Age or thereabouts.  The parfum is more refined and a hair sweeter at the top; first the flowers, and then the resiny incense.  If you want the 3-D skank experience, I recommend the white-ceramic-bottled EDC, here’s a link to one on eBay.  Bal was launched in 1962, and the notes are rosemary, cassia, jasmine, neroli, bergamot, Bulgarian rose, lemon, sandalwood, patchouli, orris, vetiver, ylang, lily of the valley, tolu balsam, amber, musk, benzoin, civet, vanilla, cedar and resins.  Uh.  Let me repeat that last bit: tolu balsam, amber, musk, benzoin, civet, vanilla, cedar and resins.  Is your mouth watering?  It should be.  Bal on my skin is mostly base — the bottom end of the tonal register.

Bal a Versailles is the ultimate old-lady perfume, antithetical to all things clean, modern, edible — the laundry musks, the cupcake scents.  It’s perfect.  (It’s also perfect on a man.)  Bal a Versailles isn’t going to win you any friends at Sephora or Macy’s.  Bal’s more in the neighborhood of vintage Rochas Femme, or vintage Scandal, only it speaks with a quieter voice.   Bal is the sort of perfume that sidles up to you at a party, offers you a nice glass of punch, and then leans in when you least expect it and whispers into your ear, something so filthy you blush and cast your eyes around the room, wondering if anyone’s noticed.   So go get a teeny tiny vintage parfum on the ‘bay.  Or the smutty, civet-rich EDC.  Or heck, get both. Layer them.  You can thank me later.

image: there’s no image because I was looking for one of Bal a Versailles, maybe a nice vintage ad, and I wound up somehow confronted with the famous YSL M7 ad with nekkid Samuel de Cubber, you should google that one if you don’t know what I’m talking about, just NOT AT WORK, and then … and then … time passed and I somehow found myself on this website that discusses the, uh, intact status of various famous men — athletes, actors, etc.  With pictures to confirm, when available.  ::hides face in shame::  I have no idea how that happened.  The internets, they are so random.

March