FaNgRrrL reporting for duty. There are two big challenges in writing perfume reviews – one is trying to write a review for a perfume you don’t really care passionately about – even to pee all over it with words – and the other is trying to restrain yourself from hoisting up your skirts and kicking your legs in the air with glee about a perfume that hits some freaky place inside you that makes you melt. Neither challenge have I overcome, as you’ll see, well, now.
Mathilde – smooches, xoxoxoxoxox, you are frEAkiNg brilliant, I love you, will you be my fren’? writemebackwhenyoucan, k?
Well, it’s not quite that bad, but I do feel like a bit like a 14-year-old at a Justin Bieber concert when I start bubbling over about Cartier L’Heure Fougueuse. To read more adult reviews, try Denyse and Victoria.
I don’t get all the mate that others have commented that’s about all they get. If it were that mate-centric on me, I may like it fine, but not be so in love with it. For me, it’s very light smoky leather gloves with tendrils of hay, tea, and a little green floating around in wisps. It feels a little lemony on the open with the bergamot, which enhances that lemon tea effect, which I’m quite enamored of, but that’s just the beginning.
As an aside, the perfume someone could make me would be ginger-lemon-honey. Maybe that exists somewhere, but I need it to smell just like my favorite drink. I crush up fresh ginger, boil it for like 20-30 minutes (make sure you cut it up, then smash it before you put it in the water), strain it out or leave the ginger in, whichever you prefer, then squeeze in some fresh lemon, add delicious honey, stir, drink. I drank this probably every morning I was in India, if I could get it, and it’s the perfect drink. If you boil up enough ginger, you can hold the ginger over, put in the lemon, and reheat it. Just don’t put the honey in when it’s boiling hot, bad for the honey.
Back to Cartier L’Heure Fougueuse . After the more lemony open is when the hay/narcissus opens up, and that’s when it gets utterly charming. You get a whiff of something that smells just a little off/dirty/funky, as Denyse puts it, and then it just relaxes into the embrace of the other notes with a sigh. A horse’s neck is one of my favorite things to smell, and that’s what this feels like to me, followed closely by my memories of being snuggled up in the hayloft with a book – blended together. Fairly (! understatement! ) intoxicating. The longer it is on, the more beautiful it gets, as the notes merge and soften, taking that memory you started with and weaving it with light and burnishing it with gold until it is your memory, but better.
I’m sure everyone else has some other leather/skin smell that it will conjure up – so feel free to insert your own lovely scented memory of a beloved bag or person or gardening or neckofyourownchoosing. The nice thing about this is it’s a “feel” perfume – one that makes you think of some place, time, thing – but it is also incredible to wear – not always possible with scents that are keying off of nontraditional perfume smells.
With spraying, it has some heft and sillage that is light, but persistent. It’s not a deep smoky or leather perfume that you’d want to be careful where you wear it. This you could wear anywhere – day, night, spring, summer, fall, winter.
Well, yes, of course it’s going to be on my Best of Winter list for tomorrow and for spring, etc., etc. Okay, did I drool too much? If so, I apologize. What perfumes make you melt somewhere?