Andy Tauer Makes Me Cry

It’s hot as balls here and other than spraying myself with my lightest possible fragrances, nothing about this weather inspires me to embrace perfume. I was rooting around trying to find something to write about. And Andy, bless him, comes through as usual.

Andy Tauer’s Les Années 25 came out quite recently; read more about its inspiration here. I wasn’t sure what to expect – something leathery? Something radiant? Something citrusy? Something with orris?   These were my first thoughts based on previous experience.

From the website: “Fresh, light and with an old school depth at the same time: a modern vintage fragrance. The eau de parfum comes with great longevity, is unisex and enchants with balanced sillage…. bergamot, petit grain, orange oil, Indian ginger Bulgarian rose, iris, benzoin, oakmoss, tonka, sandalwood, amber gris, musk, patchouli, vanilla.”

Spot my Mitsouko tattoo, this year’s addition to the canvas. Yes, that’s really me.

You’re going to have to look elsewhere for a more detailed, rational review, since mine is: this fragrance makes me cry, because it’s exactly what I need right now. It’s subtle, first of all; it doesn’t start off with a huge (but delightful!) whack like you get from some of Andy’s scents. So don’t let the word vintage mislead you into thinking this is going to be loud.  It’s …. shape-shifting. If it were music its notes would be a roving, random improvisation– perfume as jazz on the radio on a Sunday afternoon. In fact, this scent is jazz, with meandering notes and fantastic riffs on a central theme.

There’s the citrus part, zesty and carbonated. There’s the part that smells powdery and seems like it might be heavy, but instead it’s like a light hand on the cymbals. There is, to me, a hint of bone-dry leather – how does he do that? It’s not cowboy leather, or handbag leather…. dusty, salty, otherworldly. And the musk, and an animalic note that pads through on small, quiet cat feet, disturbing nobody. Of course since it’s Tauer it lasts approximately forever – only I won’t get bored, because each time I smell it, it’s shifted slightly. Oh, is that tonka? Yes, yes it is. Huh, now it’s faintly rooty, like my garden in the rain…

And I have not lost my mind. Maybe it’s the heat, but I think it’s just typical sly Andy, bottling something up and sending it out like oh well, I guess it’s finished, here you go, and you open it and everything changes.

Here’s what it looked like at my house this weekend:

Boys: Mom, mom.

Me: (sniffs wrist)

Boys: Mom, the grill’s ready.

Me: (sniffs other wrist, then my entire arm)

Boys: Mom, the grill?

Me: Go away, I’m busy.

Don’t worry, they won’t starve. There’s a grocery store nearby they can walk to.

I need another bottle of perfume like I need another hole in my head. But really, how will I live without this, now I know it exists? (Full disclosure: I did not get my sample from Andy. I got it from Patty, she knows what I like.)