Thanks for all the input last week on my decision to try and come up with a “signature” scent. I know going “cold turkey” is not the way to do it, and I’m starting to think that a small grouping is likely to be a better idea. I’m reminded of the movie Sideways, and the scene where Paul Giamatti is asked about his wine collection. He refers to it as a “small gathering in a closet”, which is how I’ve come to view my fragrance collection. Except mine resides in a drawer.

Speaking of closets, I was subjected to my first tennant “inspection” the other day. A couple of guys came in and changed the battery in my smoke detector, which was an excuse for the property manager to waltz in (she being a rather diminutive woman with what I believe is a bit of a “Napoleonic” complex. Definitely no Josephine in this broad.) and fling open my closets. I’m guessing that my abode is the exception rather than the norm in most cases. She was probably looking for clandestine damage and other such effrontery. Good thing she didn’t look behind my wall mirror to spy the chunk of plaster I inadvertently removed when hanging it. I swear, in my hands, a hammer is a weapon of mass destruction.

Anyway, while ruminating over my wish to stick with a small group of favourites, I’ve whittled down my choices to include my two favourite notes: lemon and vanilla. Yeah, I love my woods and my incense, and lots of other heavy stuff, but if I had to choose two notes I’d never want to be without, it would have to be some sort of citrus, and definitely my beloved vanilla. The two pair together quite nicely, like a rare steak and a really good glass of Cabernet. I think it was Lemon Up shampoo that started my lemon-loving ways, along with Love’s Fresh Lemon. Baby Soft was in there as well, but I really had a thing for Fresh Lemon for a long time. I’m sure some of you remember this stuff:

I used to love mixing this together with Revlon Milk Plus Six shampoo. Together, they were the perfect combination of lemon and vanilla. And that’s where it all started.

I remarked to some of you that I would love to go back to wearing Annick Goutal’s Eau d’ Hadrien once again. I drained bottles of that stuff in the late 90s – I’m talking about 3 of the 500 ml sizes. I guess that’s why I stopped wearing it. But, it was always appropriate, and always made me feel good. Another fave used to be Fresh Sugar. Again; wore it to death. I also get a bit of lemon from Philosophy Pure Grace, even though the notes are some sort of well-guarded secret – there’s definitely some lemon in the composition. There are others I’ve tried – a couple of the Carthusia scents, Rosine’s Rose d’ Ete, Eau de L’Artisan, which I believe has long since been discontinued, and Hermessence Rose Ikebana, which is way more grapefruit and osmanthus than rose.

Two other favourites are Ave Luxe Citrine and that discount e-tailer stalwart, La Perla Eclix. I’m thinking of starting over with Pure Grace and Fresh Sugar, since they are relatively easy to get, and inexpensive to boot. We’re also coming into warm weather, and I know I’m not going to be able to stand anything stronger than those. My only gripe with these types of scents is that they don’t hang around very long. But they’re fresh, bright and uplifting. Just what the doctor ordered.

OK, fess up, do you like citrus with a twist of vanilla? I’m not talking fruity floral.

So. Yeah, exactly. Not reviewing anything today. It’s been a long winter. My mom just went home today after her third surgery since December.

It just feels like a nonstop worry-fest for three months, too many days in the hospital. I’m sure a lot of you have done that. But we think we’re at the end of it and this surgery should put a 5-year-old broken ankle finally in a place where the pain and surgeries will be over. And have you ever just felt like your soul was weary? And I don’t know why. I didn’t go through anything, my mom has been shouldering all of this pain and trauma like a trooper. Much as I enjoy comparing notes on who the cutest doctor is and accusing her of being a cougar, I’m kinda done with spending this much time with health care professionals.

And it’s spring. Kinda. But not really, says the fire in my fireplace I just flipped on. But I’ve pulled out my Byredo Tulipe and my vintage Dior Diorissimo parfum, and I’m watching my daphnes green up and know spring is coming, and all I can do from now until then is help my soul stay lifted until it floats again on its own.

What are you doing or wearing as you see spring off in the distance, but not quite here yet? I’m doing a food cleanse too. Not a fasting one, just one that’s certain types of foods, those that are alkaline, lots of greens. I just feel like I need to clear out my system and reset. You?

Patty

By March

There’s a perfume review down there.  But first – thanks everyone who came out and played on Sunday, giving me all sorts of new words to think about in other languages.  I was/am totally unsurprised by the number of language geeks on here, by the way.  It seems to me that perfume people have a pretty wide range of interests, whatever their level of formal education.

Second, warm thoughts to the wounded Anita, who soldiered on in blog-ville even though her back went kerflooey, and I don’t know how she did it, frankly.   I’m glad she’s feeling a bit better.  Fingers crossed for a full recovery.

Okay, the review. Bear with me.

I was loading my laundry in the washer recently and had to laugh, because it all smelled like Mandragore (don’t worry, this is not another review of my BFF Mandragore.)  You’d think Mandragore was my dryer sheet, or my Glade whole-house scent.  Mandragore is a multi-purpose fragrance for me; it’s calming, it’s focusing, it’s refreshing, it’s cheering.  Mandragore, to me, is a known quantity, and I can wear it year-round, unlike some of my other comfort scents.  Mandragore never seems wrong.  It’s one of the few scents I have a travel bottle of just because I know that whatever happens on a trip, Mandragore will be appropriate.

But that’s why I wear perfume.  I try perfume for a whole different set of reasons, and I try new perfumes all the time.  The greatest perfume moment is when I put something on and it reaches into my brain and gives me a moment of pure, unalloyed … something or other.  I don’t want to say pleasure, because sometimes a new perfume isn’t a scent I’d ever want to wear, but it’s got something going on – it’s interesting, it’s unexpected, it’s unfamiliar.  If dépaysé was the word I was looking for on Sunday, meaning finding yourself in unfamiliar surroundings (in a good way, or at least not a terrible way, although there was some debate about that in the comments), then a great new perfume does the same job.

And thus we find ourselves at MDCI La Belle Helene, which Patty generously sent me a sample of after she reviewed it and I shamelessly begged for some in comments.  Notes via LuckyScent are: Pear accord, aldehydes, tangerine, lime blossom, rose essence, osmanthus absolute, ylang-ylang Madagascar, orris butter, hawthorn, Mirabelle plum, myrrh, vetiver Haiti, patchouli, cedar Virginia, amber, oak moss absolute, white musks, sandalwood, licorice wood.

When I was trying the Xerjoffs for my recent review, the big issue I had with them was: none of them moved me in the way I just talked about above, in spite of the fact that I thought a couple of them (Irisss, XXY) were really pretty.  I considered that a big failing, if not of the house, then some other lack of chemistry.  The Xerjoffs are I guess not my thing.  In the middle of all my testing, though, I spritzed on another atomizer and bam – there it was, that moment where I thought, this this this. That moment of transporting joy.  Then I looked at the label to see which it was and – oops!  It was the MDCI Helene.

We kicked around the idea of luxury perfume and expense and what’s “worth it” on the Xerjoff post, and I’m going to stand up right here and say: I think the MDCIs are worth it.  I don’t own a single full bottle, but I have several of the bottles in their discovery set, and yes, I do think $210 for a discovery set of eight of their scents is perfectly reasonable, because those MDCIs take me someplace I can’t get to any other way.  The only MDCI I find unwearable is Peche Cardinal (too much peach), and if the fragrance fairies were gifting me a bottle I’d ask for the skanky-floral Enlevement au Serail, but I digress.

La Belle Helene starts off with a lot of pear and some powder (probably the aldehydes,) and if you’re not a fan of pear in perfume this isn’t likely to win you over.  But it’s such an interesting pear – not a juicy, pure fruit note, but overlayed with buttery, funky notes like hawthorn that keep it from being overly sweet.  It’s got what I’m going to call the MDCI vibe, for lack of a better expression – as if the fragrance were going two directions simultaneously, a soaring top that reminds me a little of Parfums de Nicolai, with a strong, supporting base that’s rich and complex and lasts forever on me.

La Belle Helene is based on a dessert I’ve never tasted, but it’s an idea of dessert, MDCI’s foray into a gourmand, and this isn’t really something to eat – it’s not “foody.”  The pear fades and then we’re into oriental territory, although I’m avoiding the word “classic,” because there’s nothing retro about it.  The hawthorn, patch and other notes in the woody base suggest something dark and leathery, and about fifteen minutes in, I realized what it reminded me of, a little – Duchaufour’s wonderful recent scent for L’Artisan, Traversee du Bosphore, although the MDCI doesn’t smell like it really – it’s much stronger and more zaftig, for one thing, for those of you who found Bosphore bafflingly evanescent.  It’s a great balance of dark sweetness, like rose and plum, with more than enough cedar, patchouli and vetiver (I can really pick those out) to keep it from being girly.  I think it’s marketed as femme, and I’m not sure how many guys want to wear something with a lady-dessert name, but it would smell great on anyone.   For another take on the fragrance, here’s a link to Bois de Jasmin’s review (she references Traversee du Bosphore as well.)  She feels TdB is similar enough to satisfy this particular fragrance niche-itch; I want both.  On me, the to-die-for plum note of La Belle Helene pays homage to  Poison and Feminite du Bois, while wearing more transparently.

Finally, here’s another shout-out to the man behind it, my no-longer-nemesis Bertrand Duchaufour, who over the last year or fifteen months has been behind several of my favorite new releases.  Gone are the murky days of his previous palette of dank earth tones.  I have no idea what happened, or why he’s doing what he’s doing now, but I hope he continues.

Sample: from Patty; image, wikimedia commons

March

Before I forget – the Diaghilev winner (courtesy of Pickle and random.org) is LindaB. Drop me your deets and I’ll send off your sample as soon as I get my little scrab – should be any day!

okay – on to the story -

55 gallon barrel: 1

Musette:     0

Ow.  Last fall I wrestled a full rain barrel and lost.  Occasionally the old spasm rebounds to remind me that Barrel is Quing!  I wonder why it always happens at 5am, when you desperately have to pee.  And that 10 second walk to the bathroom is 10 minutes while you crab, backwards, on your turned-in toes, fingers desperately seeking any purchase to help relieve the shocking pain…holding it… screeching like a third-grade girl…holding it…panting..holding it…and you make it!

And the lid is down.

Bedridden for 3 days, hopped-up on Vitamin V, I spritzed old Coty perfumes and watched a lot of funky TV because that’s what you do when you’re zonked on painkillers, right?   TV can be very heartening, especially for those of us who are struggling to reinvent ourselves in our careers, personal lives or whatever… I have taken porky William Shatner as my personal motivation – from  the ancellation of Star Trek to the  downalator of ‘Big Bad Mama’ (hey!  I was illin’) only to rebound to cult-love status via ‘Boston Legal’ (and, dare I say it, the Priceline Negotiator?  Bill is laughing ALL the way to the bank!)  – and the zoomerang of John Travolta: remember Perfect?  Of course you don’t.   –from teen star to nobody and back again -  platinum ever since!

So…Bill and John did it.  How come Coty can’t do it?  Roja Dove’s Diaghilev, with its respectful nod to Coty Chypre broke my heart.… Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy as a clam that Roja did it.  But it begs the question:  what happened to this once-illustrious house  (Chypre! La Rose J!  Paris!) that caused it to settle for pursue so many resolutely awful scents?  From its chilly-corporate website to a fragrance ‘brand’ list that makes me itch, the whole thing whimpers ‘mediocre’.  Every time I go into a drugstore I’m amazed that M. Francois hasn’t oozed out of his grave and scythed the entire Coty board into terrified puddles of bloody bits.   IIFRA and whales and cat-butts aside,  even with legal and ethical considerations other venerable houses have managed to keep their connection to what made them great.  Diorella doesn’t suck, I swear!  So.  Is there a gas leak at Two Park Ave that caused L’Origan to end up at Walgreens, a battered, miserable shell, while L’Heure Bleue wields the Mace of Majesty?  I would mention Emeraude…except I will start crying.

I think I’ve shrieked about this before.  But I’m shrieking again – and it’s Dior’s fault.  Yeah.  See, I have now tried all the scents in La Collection.  I’m not ecstacized (yeah, new word:  Ecstacized!)…but I am in alt that they took a determined look to what made the House of Dior as their inspiration for this collection.   Chanel thrilled us with Les Exclusifs, with the historical references to Chanel’s life and her perfumer’s inspirations.  Guerlain, Caron have held on to their jewels, even as they’ve had to tweak them for changing laws and customer tastes..…why does the list not include Coty?  Surely no ‘customer’ would deliberately buy the Emeraude you see, come Christmastime, in their tacky little cello boxes…(sniff.  I promised I wouldn’t cry)

I can’t be the only one beating this drum in the wilderness.  Coty spawned some of the greatest perfumes in history.  Wouldn’t it be great to see some of them back – and not at the drugstore, dangit!  PROPER reintroductions, with decent packaging and some history to back it up.

What say you?  If you could have one (or more) Cotys resurrected (as much as anything could be), which ones?  Or am I dreaming and should I wake up and shut up.    And if you don’t care about Coty and you still wanna play, what star/celebrity has done the best reinvention, in your opinion?

photo:  xnet.kp.org

by Tom

Okay, I admit it.  I’m a sample whore.  I’ll come home from some store or another with samples in hand that are of stuff that I wouldn’t wear in a million years.  Sometimes I wonder if it’s a private joke amongst the SA’s in giving me some of these.  I mean, take into account the Barneys bag I ran across cleaning a corner of the closet where two samples of Iris Poudre and the empty box formerly housing an actual purchased fragrance had once resided.

Oddly enough, I decided to sample this in perhaps the perfect way possible, after a long bath.  Now in a perfect world for this review said bath would have been filled with foot-high pink foam while I gushed on the Princess phone to Rock Hudson about Rock Hudson not knowing it was really Rock Hudson (consult Netflix for explanation).  The scent is all pink and pretty iris.

That’s the opening.

To take the Ross Hunter metaphor further, this goes from “Pillow Talk” to “Madame X” with the addition of dark musks, but it’s still a great heaving corseted busom of a fragrance.  In a thoroughly modern, pared-down way that while witty, seductive and winkingly sexy isn’t going to gas your partner into anaphylactic shock.

I’d never wear it.  You ladies should.

$155 for 50ML at Barneys