By March

I saw Inception the other night.  I know there’s been some discussion and confusion.  Well, I know exactly what happened: I lost eleven dollars and three hours of my life that I will never get back.  By the time we were at the interminable snow-fort/falling van scene, my legs were numb and I was so bored I kept mentally inserting either James Bond on skis or the abominable snow monster from Rudolph into the spectacle before me – anything to relieve the tedium.  Talk about an excellent inception  – wouldn’t the Bumble (preferably accompanied by Yukon Cornelius, Hermey, Burl Ives and some cheesy orchestral music) have been perfect in that scene?  I’m telling you.  Instead I finally got up and left – walked up and down the hall awhile, getting the blood flowing, and thought about perfume.

How much should we have to think about perfume, as opposed to just wearing it?  If I were going to the opera, I’d do some research first.  I’d look it up online, learn the story, research maybe the composer, or (depending on the venue) the performers or the particular production.  Otherwise I’m just sitting there struggling to read the libretto, having no clue what’s going on because they’re singing in another language.  Sure, I think the music of Turandot is achingly beautiful (go ahead and laugh, it’s probably cliché, I don’t care, I love it) but if I’m going to have a reaction other than oooh, pretty! I need more information.

Wall-art has a bit more gray area (no pun intended.)   I live in D.C. and spend a fair amount of time visiting the National Gallery of Art, the Freer, the Hirshhorn, etc., although I am no particular connoisseur.  I’m unapologetically old school – I like representational art, and I have to read up to understand what I’m looking at with a lot of modern art.  (Aside: the only time I have behaved badly in a gallery as an adult was viewing the installation in the East Wing of an “artist” my 88-year-old father and I still refer to as “light-bulb guy.”)  Yves Klein’s show at the Hirshhorn probably seems a lot more interesting if you know about Klein blue.  There are layers of information in almost any painter’s work.  You can be charmed by the Dutch masters’ blowsy, larger-than-life floral arrangements – the incredible realism and detail – and that’s good enough, yes? (Also: they’re on the way to the Vermeers.) But it’s also interesting to know that many of the elements – the fading flowers, the broken petals, the insects – were meant to signify (and depending on your perspective, celebrate) the transitory nature of our existence. Is looking at one of those master paintings “better” with more information?  I don’t know.

I could argue with myself all evening (even better with friends like you, preferably over a pitcher of adult beverages) about perfume and this sort of background knowledge.  I’m not arguing the perfume should smell “good” – I like all sorts of scents that don’t exactly soothe the senses.  But I want the application of perfume to trigger something –  something other than boredom, one hopes.   How much should I know about a perfume’s intention?  Its provenance?  As Carmencanada points out, the downside of the “celebrity perfumer” is you’ve got Alberto Morillas’ name behind a scent that might as well come in a BBW canister for all the artistry it displays.  (Is this a criminal waste of talent?  Absolutely.  Why do perfumers take these jobs?  It must be like beating your head against the wall in slow motion while drinking a vat of white musk, maybe with a chaser of vanilla.)

Learning about perfume comes in handy in ways that enchant me.  Let’s say you fall in love with a vintage bottle of YSL Paris – and why shouldn’t you?  I did, and I don’t even like roses.  Well, then, with a little research that could take you in all sorts of directions.  It was done by Sophia Grojsman, who has a reputation for astonishing roses in perfumery.  You could make a game of it – pursue other fragrances she’s done, see how you feel about those.  Or you could fall in love with the note itself – rose – and sniff around through various other perfumers’ interpretations – how about Malle’s Lipstick Rose?  Something really different like a rose-oudh?   The Rosines, an entire line devoted to displaying various facets of rose?    This continues to be one of my favorite ways to explore new perfumes – by category (house, nose, note.)  And that takes a little research.

But in the end, how much should we have to know about a perfume to “properly” “appreciate” it?   To appreciate the Humiecki & Graefs, for instance, with their wackadoo prosetry – do I really need to know about the state of how men cry to “get” Skarb?  Or is all their blurbage just a winking joke, a way of making me pay attention to the brand, rather like the antics of Etat Libre and the names of their scents?   The chances are almost zero that I’m running around in a scent called Don’t Get Me Wrong, Baby, I Don’t Swallow (is that the one with the penis the bottle?  Oh, wait, no, it’s Secretions Magnifique.)   But that’s my loss, right?  I’m so put off before I even try it.  I’m too close-minded.

I yearn for the days of the old-fashioned marketing myths and delusions – you know, this perfume is all about being sexy or mysterious or powerful or innocent or transgressive.   I can love Opium not just for the way it smells but because it’s called … Opium!  Or Poison.  (Or Addict, or Rush.)  Beyond that, what do we really need to know about them?  Nothing.  Ingredients eco-sourced and collected by (unionized) nuns at dusk?   Done by [insert famous perfumer here]?  Nope, none of that.  I don’t have to read any ad copy to understand how via my perfume I’ve been a bad, bad girl.  I can just look at the name or the image and know it.

Does a fragrance have balance?  Is it pleasing, does it surprise? These are some of the questions Angela asks on Now Smell This, as she compares perfume to another art – the preparation of fine food.   In the end (and somewhat ironically) I think I’m going to drop perfume in a category close to food – even though I don’t necessarily love too much of one with the other.  Perfume can provide the same kind of highbrow and lowbrow thrills.  It can provide instant joy, or be something that requires a bit of a development of a taste for a note, the way one acquires a taste for oysters.   I think that perfume has, for me, an element of immediacy that food does, less distancing than visual or musical art appreciation, if that makes any sense at all.  (Is smell and taste more primal, more fundamental than sight or sound?)  Okay, I’m going to pour myself a drink and argue with myself over that last bit.

Final notes: congratulations to The Perfumed Court for their mention in the New York Times Sunday magazine article (very interesting) on AbdesSalaam Attar!  Also, due to a last minute scheduling change, I will be away today at an undisclosed location with Diva and Enigma, getting in touch with our senses via funnel cakes, arcade games, and barf-inducing rides like the Himalaya.  They better be playing Heart’s Barracuda.  Rock on.

March

I know I have turned into a Comments Loser. Not because I don’t wanna, but work/life/commitments just allow so little time on all the things I want to do, and something has to give. But I get e-mails with every comment, and I read them all.

My post last week talked about India, and several of you asked about that trip, so I wanted to do a quick post on it.  A friend of mine who has been there before wanted to take people she liked and knew well with her, people who hadn’t been there before and could rough it and wouldn’t be whiners.

It had really never occurred to me that I wanted to go to India until she asked me.  Once I was asked, I knew that it was one place I had to go.

We’re flying into Delhi, then we go touristy to the Taj Mahal. Then it’s off to Bagdogra by plane with a jeep to Gangtok. This is all in the Sikkim region, north of Bangladesh and east of Nepal, south of Tibet.  So we spend a day in Gantok, then jeep to Pelling, hike to a lake (I’m getting a little worried about what altitude we’re at here), then hike to Yuksom, another hike to the waterfalls and a monastery.

Then we leave this area, fly back to Delhi, take a train to Hardiwar, then we are in Rishikesh for 2-3 days, then back to Delhi for shopping in the markets, and then we go home.  I know, right?  I have my books on India that I’ve just started, and I’m really overwhelmed at just how different this is going to be from my regular life.

I’ve seen Eat, Pray, Love.  I’m not a huge fan of the movie or Julia Roberts, but it has its moments of personal clarity that did incent me to pick up the book so I can get past the Julia Roberts irritation to try and appreciate the story on its own. I think the India section in the movie could have been a lot better.  I mean, did she really just hang around the Ashram for four months? Who does that? I’m not the Ashram sort at all, though a week or two there really does sound lovely.  But I’d never do an ashram or monastery or anything for months without equal amounts of time exploring the country.

The movie version of Eat, Pray, Love makes me think of Etat’s Sex Pistols scent.  A lot of buildup to something great, but it feels more like a washed-out version of something else that was so much better in the original.  I had a lot of hope for Sex Pistols, especially after the brilliance of the  Tilda Swinton fragrance, which I adore, but it feels like ’70s or ’80s men’s cologne, and I don’t mean that in a good way.  Gail told me it would be a disappointment, but I kept hoping for weird to show up – bubblegum, urine, spunk, anything? I’d stare at my arm the three times I’ve tested it, knowing there was more to it.  Alas, ordinary, already done is all there is.

More India tips from those who have been there.  Or tell me the biggest ordinary disappointment from a perfume you’ve had.

Patty

By Anita

(hey there everyone — we’ll be putting our names up here so you know who’s posting)

August in these parts – what a mess – even the kids have lost their zest for playing outside.  It’s  as if they are beginning to adjust their internal thermometers to Classroom temps – out here there are few Summer Maths/Language Camps or internships – no, out here it’s like a timewarp, with kids riding their bikes and fishing and just hanging out all summer long..so they’re ready to get back to a routine, even as they crab about it.

So why am I going on about kids? who knows? – I just got off on a tangent, though it does tie into the transitional tone I’m aiming for (stick with me -  I’m going somewhere with this).  Oh, yes.  Transition.  School?  August.    I dunno about you but when I was a girl, in Catholic school, you only got the first 1 or 2 days (and the last few days) of the school year to wear civilian clothes – and we were all so desperate to show our New Fall Togs – imagine the horror of 20 7th grade girls in wool turtlenecks and those faux kilts (with the giant pins, remember those?) – in a non-AC classroom.  In Illinois.  In August.  Oh, the humanity.

Right now my inner 7th grader is aching to wear some fall scents  but it’s not happening.  It’s still too hot during the day and it’s All Damp 24/7, raining every other day, out of nowhere, with the gale-force winds and downed trees, then blistering sunshine.   Then rain.  Then the amphibians come out.  Then it’s surface-of-the-sun hot again.  Just weird.  But still damp – all the time.  No matter if it’s 58F @ 3am (bliss!) or 90F at noon – it’s soaking wet, the kind  where you have to throw the sheets in the dryer before you go to bed.  And everything I put on  just smells weird, like maybe I’m personally mildewed – except Vetiver.   But not the ‘pretty’ vetiver (think Guerlain and Tom Ford’s lovely Grey Vetiver  ).  No, I’m talkin’ VETIVERS – the ones  that are so viscous they come out of the bottle like Alaga syrup.  I think it was Carter who busted me out of my vetiver complacency via Turtle Vetiver, which started me on the path.  Because I live in a very damp house (that may have an actual cistern(ew) under part of it) I had no problem believing that Isabelle Doyen could create a vetiver that smells like turtles – after all, my house smells like frogs and there are toads in the bushes and snails on the siding after a rainstorm and the thought of the cistern freaks me out but I digress…  Turtle Vetiver  is beautiful on a hot summer day and it does not smell like turtles but it’s wrong for this sodden, froggy, transitional weather -  in Turtle Vetiver the root is vaguely damp and it amps into something ozonic .  I was looking for those really crackly, smoky dry vets that make you wonder if somebody’s sneaking a toke in the backyard.     The best example is an essential oil from Australia that has to be diluted in jojoba,  so it doesn’t peel the skin off your wrist.  Beautiful in a burner, though.    But Carol (WAFT by Carol) sent me a couple of Eden Botanicals that are so strong they transcend perfumery and speak directly to the damp – and beat it BACK!    Heck, I don’t know whether to wear this stuff or roll it up and smoke it!

If  you love Vetiver and it’s damp where you live, I urge you to try these.  If you hate vetiver you might as well try them, too, just to see what Vetiver freaks are all on about – the Organic Vetiver is a bit more wearable, I think, though I prefer the Surinam Vetiver – it came charging out of the little vial with its jaws snapping, like one of those awful SyFy alligators.  Either (or both) are perfect to carry through this weird, wet time of year.  If it’s dry and hot where you are, though,  beware – they might just spontaneously combust!

Vetiver Freaks:  what are your faves? Vetiver Haters:  Why No love?

ps.  Hey, Natalie!  PLEASE forgive me – you sent a note via ‘contact us’.  Patty sent it to me.   I lost it (I’m a loser) -  I can’t torture Patty to go through the 5000 emails to resend, I just can’t.  Would you please click on my name (I’ll be replying to any comments that come up) and send me your info again?  I need to get the 6T and Cordovan Rose out to you!

photo:  alligator snapping turtle/ itsnature.org

Eden Botanicals:  I already told you, Big Brother.  Read the post!

I just added a category named “Blame March”. I decided we needed one; this is all her fault.

I’d been jonesing a sniff of DKNY Pure, and March beat me to it. So, I took it upon myself to locate some, and the verdict is…BAD. Sorry March, I know you were sure I was going to like this one, but uh, no. Funeral arrangement dipped in bad vanilla. I’d almost expect something like that to come out of a bottle of Febreze, not from the woman who puts her name on two of my all-time faves: Chaos and Cashmere Mist. I was blown back on my kiester, gobsmacked, horrified; dare I say it: nauseated.

In the hunt for greener pastures, I stumbled upon, of all things, Thierry Mugler Womanity, newly ensconced at The Bay, and damned if I didn’t have the exact opposite reaction to it. You all know I am one of the staunchest haters of Angel walking the Earth, but this…this has fig in it! And salt, er, caviar! God help me, I like it, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

Before I sat down to pen this essay, I went back and read what Robin had to say from this past May, and Pattys take from last month. Both ladies were begrudgingly positive in their opinions, but I just flat-out fell in love with the stuff. I didn’t get the sharp, overwhelming citrus that Robin did, nor did I find it overwhelmingly sweet like Patty.  I spritzed a bit on my skin, and was pleasantly surprised at how gloriously figgy it was right off the bat, with a nice bit of salt lurking in the background, courtesy of the caviar, I’m guessing, and a faint tropical vibe; almost like the woodsy/coconutty/limey-ness  of Creed’s Virgin Island Water. The bottle is every bit as creepy in person as it is in all the adverts. I don’t know what to make of those faces. The cap is actually a ring attached to a chain that snaps over the atomizer. Interesting, but nothing all that innovative.

I would classify Womanity as “kitschy” in the same vein as Virgin Island Water.  I don’t see how anyone could classify it as “sexy”, “womanly” or “seductive”. Then again, I don’t see how anyone can stand to be in the same room with a person doused in Angel. Granted, Womanity is patchouli-free, and much easier to wear than Angel. I know many would beg to differ with that, especially if you’re able to withstand the oppressiveness of summer with Angel as your armour. For that you have my enduring respect and admiration. I’m still on an all-Tylenol diet, but things are slowly improving. I’ve actually found some relief in the oddest of places: a jar of Physician’s Formula Organic Wear eye makeup remover pads. They were $19 for three jars of 60 pads at Costco, and I took a shot. They’re not all that thrilling in terms of mascara removal, but they do have the most heavenly lavender scent. So, there you have it: Womanity and lavender scented eye-makeup remover pads. I think I might need to investigate that surgery for a deviated septum.

Random Friday Musing: Has anyone tried Steam Cream yet? If you can get your hands on some, I can’t suggest it strongly enough. It’s been at BeautyHabit for a while now, and for all you MD/DC/VA girls, a store named The British Bazaar in Reston VA purportedly stocks it. It is such a wonderful, fluffy, natural all-purpose cream, and it’s packaged in the cutest metal tins. I’ve been using it on my face and hands at bed time, and the floral/herbal scent is also wonderfully soothing. Now if I can only get Womanity out of my mind… By the way, Steam Cream is only about $18 for a 2.6 oz. tin. Can’t beat that with a stick, can you?

Disclosure: Thierry Mugler Womanity was sampled at The Bay. DKNY Pure was sampled at Murale.

This is the week for everyone getting buried in life. I hope all of you are buried in your lives in the best ways – vacation, spending a few last lazy days of summer with your kids before school starts, drinking champagne by the pool or on a beach.

I wish I had visitors or I were going somewhere, but mine is the more mundane, work is killing me and it’s time critical kind of killing.  My left arm is also killing me since they shot me up with a bunch of immunizations today.  Hep A, Tetanus, polio, mmr.  Medicines for Typhoid, malaria. Cipro for whatever makes me really sick.  Doxycyline?  Don’t remember what that’s for.  Handheld UV Water purifier to zap all my non-iced water.

The thought of going 16 days without ice is causing me a little angst, but less angst than languishing in a hospital in Sikkim territory.  Is the alcohol safe to drink in India if I use a straw? Please tell me yes or I’ll have to plan for that too.

I could have skipped some of these, it turns out, maybe.  Mom filled me in, after the fact, that I have had measels and mumps, along with smallpox and something else.  Though they’d still want to boost all or most of those.

The thought of living out of a backpack with three changes of clothes and a toothbrush doesn’t even register at this point as being possible for me, but I”m pretty sure I’ll manage that.  The one thing I”m really happy I did is cash in a ton of mileage points so I can find some comfort in my airplane seat on the way there and back.  A couple of Ambien should get me home without even noticing I’m flying.

But no perfume? I think I’ll slip in something, but what?  Backpack space is at a premium so I can’t take much.  And should I take my normal size backpack or get one of those towering ones for more space? I mean, surely I’ll be picking up some stuff even in the back country, and I need someplace to put it. I know we are stopping at a market for all my shopping needs the day before we leave to come back, but I’m planning on buying a cheap suitcase or three and stuffing them full of silks and oils and everything else that flits by that’s shiny, pretty or smells good.  I’m thinking something bright and pretty for perfume, maybe something citrus?  This could be the hardest decision I have to make, so help me out.

I’m going to go back to drafting some really complicated documents for my day job and nursing my aching pincushion arm.  You all have a much more fun day than me, please!

Patty