Spring … maybe … maybe not? And Clinique Aromatics Elixir … yes, again

So, I went into town last week. The 9 AM train was cancelled so I had to run-walk to make the 8:30.

The day started freezing cold and foggy (see pic). By midday, it was spring. I’m not complaining – simply reporting. But, we’re back to cold for a week soon. Maybe after that spring…

Haircut and errands, including a visit to spaceNK (which I said doesn’t have perfume – I lied: there’s a small corner of things like DS & Durga, Jo Loves and Tom Ford – not hugely exciting, and there are actually more candles than bottles of stuff).

I did get a Lisa Eldridge lipstick – a late self birthday gift (really, it was on the bday list – and so allowed – not an impulse purchase, so not breaking the NO.BUY.).

I got something called Medici. I love the name. It’s a dark rose sort of, with a bit of red, a bit of brown, a bit of maybe one day I’ll get to Venice for Carnival. Here, this is what it looks like.

I’m still waiting for March to do a lipstick post. Please.

I ran by John Lewis, our remaining department store, and finally managed to test Clinique Aromatics Elixir on skin rather than paper – like 10 big … I mean huge … spritzes.

Not to belabour the point made already on the blog — by Portia, by Tom, by me even — that this is incredible — and I don’t understand why I hadn’t been willing to try it years ago. I was a Prescriptives girl, though, and felt Clinique was a bit … pedestrian. Little did I know, clearly.

But anyway given a number of us have written about this fairly recently, why am I revisiting, beating the proverbial dead (you enter word)?

Well, because this makes me think about perfumery before everyone and their mother thought they should have a go – when the point was to smell good but good had certain implications and some well thought out ideas.

I love my weirds, my interesting niche, my ‘let’s play with a concept’, the deliberately provocative, etc. They definitely have a place in my collection.

But every once in a while I think what would I bring as a desert island fragrance – ie, if I could only bring one bottle for a fairly long period with no access to anything else even to sample? If I had limited packing space and no access to online or major retail outlets? I can feel you twitching.

That’s where a perfume like Aromatics Elixir comes in. It actually is something that could keep my brain occupied – and it really does smell sensationally good.

And I think with older fragrances you weren’t meant to be looking for individual notes. Rather, the whole would parse as legible – ie, it takes you on a journey that can be followed: an opening, development, a drydown. More like reading and then re-reading a book you really enjoyed first time round but that gets better and you see more with each go-round.

Fragrantica calls this a chypre floral. Well, I guess, maybe. Launched in 1971 the nose is Bernard Chant. I’m sure I’m repeating myself and everyone else about this. But, as I’d drenched myself in it I actually got to think about it properly. Notes: chamomile, aldehydes, clary sage, coriander, geranium, lemon verbena, Brazilian rosewood, bergamot, carnation, rose, ylang, orris root, jasmine, tuberose, orange blossom, oakmoss, patchouli, incense, vetiver, sandalwood and musk.

Things I like about that list.

• That bergamot isn’t up front, which it is in so many other perfumes.
• That there’s no pink pepper.
• That the aldehydes don’t make me twitchy – they just add to the witchiness that Tom mentioned.
• That there are ‘big white flowers’ and you get to enjoy that aspect of things, but it doesn’t scream ‘I’m a big white floral’.
• That, as with all the best fragrances, it’s high/low: I could see wearing this with diamonds (if I had them) or while gardening (actually, if I had diamonds, I’d wear them while I gardened).

Ultimately, what I guess I mean is that this feels a little like wearing an in-joke in a positive way – like, you ‘get’ it (the perfume), and the reward is you get to wear it.

If that makes any sense at all.

Pics: Pexels, Wiki Perfume, mine