First, it’s official: the ChiCocoa Scentsation will be Saturday, SEPTEMBER 13 — that’s the date most people can come. Mark your calendars! Okay, on to today’s post –

For someone who does a lot of yapping about my alleged restraint in buying bottles (as opposed to hoarding samples) I’ve had to start rotating my fragrances seasonally in order to find anything. Of course there are things I wear year round, but a certain amount of my scent is pretty much summer/winter only, so it moves in and out of my closet with the bathing suits and wool sweaters.

Fragrance rotation also forces me to dust everything, which is necessary, even if it isn’t fun. Every time I do this, though, I run across fragrances I never wear. I bought them. I liked them enough that I didn’t immediately move them to the swap pile. So why don’t they wind up on my skin? Part of the reason might be I can’t remember what they smell like.

I grabbed three forgotten scents randomly to try and unravel the mystery, with some history …

Fendi Asja. I bought this unsniffed because the price was right and I like Fendi Theorema so much. Notes (which give you a sense of its kitchen-sink Oriental complexity): bergamot, peach, apricot, raspberry, Bulgarian rose, ylang-ylang, Egyptian jasmine, nutmeg, cinnamon, mimosa, lily of the valley, honey, carnation, orchid, vanilla, sandalwood, cedar, musk, benzoin, balsamic styrax and amber. It’s a sweet, spicy fragrance with a vanilla-woods drydown. Somewhere out there is a review by someone (who? I know you know) that compares a particular fragrance to the smell of warm radiators – that scentless scent of dusty, baked house air. I grew up with radiators and I love that smell. Anyway, they weren’t talking about Asja but they could be – to me it smells something like Cinnabar parfum with a heavy dose of hot radiator accord. It is gorgeous – sensual, but more the warm embrace of Tocade than the leg-humping lasciviousness of Opium. While I love Asja in theory, and find it strangely comforting, it just never seems to be something I reach for. Analyzing this, I want it to be a comfort scent – a blue jeans thing I wear to the grocery store – but the rest of the fragrance is as grown up as a ball gown. The bluejeans/ball gown tension means I never quite feel like it’s the right occasion for Asja. Great bottle. ADDENDUM: wore it over two miserably wet, cold days recently, trying to figure out why I never wear it. It is the PERFECT wear-around-the-house crappy weather comfort scent.

Alexander McQueen Kingdom EDT: Notes of bergamot, neroli, jasmine, ginger, cumin, patchouli, copahu wood, vanilla, myrrh, sandalwood. I smelled the EDP and the EDT on my UK trip and, fab as the famed EDP is, there are limits to how many startling cumin scents I need. The EDT is an entirely different proposition. While the notes I find listed online are the same, the scent is essentially a musky floral summer-weight scent, not a cumin bomb. So why haven’t I been wearing it? Well… that heart-shaped bottle (instead of the wedge-of-alien-fruit EDP flacon) lays flat, it’s big, and it wobbles around on its side. At some point I got nervous/irritated by its sneaky moves and stuck it in a drawer, at which point it ceased to exist. Smelling it again, my first thought was I made a mistake – I went for the safe choice and lost. Having said that, it does not fall into any of the summer stereotypes – it is not a citrusy thing, or fresh, or a fruity-floral. The cumin emerges in the drydown, but even then it is very subdued. It’s a strange scent, a dry floral with some of the salty muskiness of Eau de Merveilles. I have put it on my shelf in plain sight, and look forward to trying it in the summer heat – assuming the summer heat ever gets here – to see if it grows on me.

Paul & Joe Bleu. I swapped away the P&J White eons ago, unable to deal with the hawthorn, but I kept this – it’s an oriental, notes are bergamot, coriander, caraway, cardamom, cumin, ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, magnolia, heliotrope, sandalwood, oud, patchouli, myrrh, vanilla, and musk, created by Pierre Bourdon in 2003. I googled it and can’t find anything, it seems to have fallen off the face of the earth – it’s not even on eBay, and I think they had them by the dozens back in the day at Anthropologie, where I bought it – and cheap, too. And too bad it’s gone, because really, it’s a nice fragrance. Somewhere between the vanillic haze of Shalimar Lite and a honking dose of patchouli to unsweeten things, Bleu does an interesting fifteen-minute lateral shift from feminine powdery florals to masculine woody tobacco, and I would love to smell this on a man. The spices are much more muted than you’d suspect from the list, contributing to the overall richness of the scent rather than calling attention to themselves on an individual basis.

Why don’t I wear this? On me, this registers as Serious Perfume. For those occasions I reach for either Mitsouko or Jicky. But it doesn’t smell like either of those, and it’s not so pervasive. On the other hand, it’s not so long lasting, either, and it gets a bit thin. I’ll try to work it into the rotation.

Anything on your shelf that you like in theory but it’s been languishing for so long you can’t quite remember what it smells like? And how come you aren’t wearing it?

Okay, your assignment for next Monday – hey, why should I do all the work?!? No, seriously, I like to read your responses. So – the assignment, suggested by Maria last week (and with a nod to Now Smell This, who just did something similar on Friday): it has come to our attention in the blogosphere that many of you have made sniffing expeditions and/or unsniffed purchases based on The Guide. Also, Patty says anecdotal evidence from The Perfumed Court suggests that people are sampling highly-rated fragrances. I’d like a report next Monday on how your sniffage/blind buys worked out for you. Alternately, tell me about your latest foray or unsniffed purchase prompted by a review that I or another blogger did. Next Monday, don’t forget!

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris – I love that bottle. I love Guerlain. I love fig. I’m fond of iris. This would seem tailor-made for me, and yet it’s a disappointment. Notes are bergamot, grapefruit, iris, fig, violet, milky notes, woods, vetiver and vanilla. The light milky fig (along the lines of BBW Brown Sugar and Fig) meets the Guerlain powdery heliotrope and then the fig mostly disappears after ten minutes. I drenched it on the second and third times – I’m talking my whole arm, wet – and still it didn’t stick around long. What’s left is like “An Impression of” the Guerlain powdery-heliotrope base. An Impression of Guerlain Meteorites, I guess? The drydown, once the powder fades, is kind of woody and interesting, like Kenzo Tokyo in the first 90 seconds before it implodes into a crappy fresh scent. If we’d skipped some of the powder, I’d be happy, but this is just too much powder and not enough interest for me.

Aqua Allegoria Laurier Reglisse - and this one surprised me in the opposite way – by pleasing me quite a bit. I’m not wild for anise, but this one is refreshing – notes of bergamot, orange blossom, licorice, bay laurel, woods, violet, galbanum and amber. The licorice is bright rather than candied and is pretty much gone after the first three minutes on me, leaving a not-particularly-sweet, leafy green woody smell that I think would be just the ticket in the summer heat. Nice – I might buy this on discount. Lasting power is so-so, and if I’m saying that, me of the scent-grabbing skin, I wonder what normal people get – five minutes?

Let me say again: I love Sephora. In addition to an increasing number of small bottles for less than $50, this last visit yielded a $50 four-bottle gift set containing Prada regular, Intense, Tendre and Homme. How great is that?

Moschino Cheap & Chic I Love Love (in the orange and blue Olive Oyl bottle) is sort of like D&G Light Blue, only more floral and even more appealing to me, and I like Light Blue. It’s Light Blue’s more gracious older sister. If you like Light Blue in theory, but after two hours its pervasive Light-Blue-ness starts to work your last nerve, you might want to consider trying this. Notes are grapefruit, orange, lemon, redcurrant, tea rose, muguet, cinnamon leaves, musk, cedar, tonka wood, created by Olivier Cresp in 2004. Every time I sniff it I wonder, why don’t I own this thing? And then I remember why an hour later, because my only complaint is it gets a little sweeter than I like in the drydown, although it’s not so sweet by mainstream standards. I am crazy for that bottle, though, and if I run across some cheap I’ll probably buy it. In the meantime, I sniffed the new one, Hippy Fizz, and come on – look at that bottle — based solely on appearances, I don’t even care what it smells like, I want it. Notes are: raspberry, rose, violet leaves, magnolia, lotus, cedar and oakmoss. I’ll take their word for the cedar and oakmoss – on me it is the sweet, fruity floral you’d expect from the first five notes. In terms of artistic merit, Hippy Fizz is the fragrance equivalent of Pez, or Sour Patch Kids candy – and be honest, don’t you ever want a mouthful of Pez instead of a mouthful of, I don’t know, organic, fair-trade shade-grown artisanal dark chocolate? I know I do. I couldn’t pick it out of a lineup, it could just as easily be one of the Escada summer LEs, it’s a little fresh on me.

Finally, there was Oscar Fresh Vanilla for Women, which I tried at Bloomie’s and which she assured me was a special Limited Addition and Very Rare and I better buy it now or I’ll never see it again! Notes are: bergamot, blackcurrant, rose, marshmallow, orange blossom, vanilla, Peru balsam, musk. When I looked online I realized there have been a whole series of these Oscar things I’ve never seen – bamboo, pink lily, citrus, mocha chip, etc. Okay, not mocha chip.

Marshmallow. Marshmallow, for Pete’s sake. Honestly, though? It was kind of fun – it smells like a marshmallow you’ve toasted on a stick until it’s nicely browned, so it loses some sweetness and has a bit of that burnt smell – with a musky finish. It’s like Demeter did a scent called Toasted Marshmallow (you could layer it with Bonfire!), or CdG added it to their Sweet series. I know, I know. I must be losing my marbles. Off to apply Kolnisch Juchten to regain my senses.

PS For Mother’s Day my darling children gave me various items they made lovingly by hand in their art classes. I gave myself that Stuart Weitzman purse in the photo up there. I’ve coveted their shoes in that particular, iconic color – Red Quasar, a pearlized lipstick red – for years, but the shoes are usually either flats or 4-inch heels, and I want something in between. Then I saw the purse and knew: It Was Destiny.

Join us in Chicago this fall for an incredible, decadent day of fragrance and the Universe’s favorite food: CHOCOLATE!

Patty and March from Perfume Posse will be with us as we spritz, sniff and sample our way through some of Chicago’s finest fragrance departments and boutiques, with many stops to sample chocolate, throughout the day!

Special Guests: Neil Morris!! Liz Zorn!!! They’ll both be at the Event to showcase their magnificent fragrance lines. Times and places to be determined.

This informal gathering on Saturday, September 13 (or 20), will feature stops at L’Artisan, Chanel, Barneys New York, Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman-Marcus, CO Bigelow, Nordstrom — and more.

OKAY, PEOPLE – we need your feedback, do you have a preference between Sept. 13 and 20? For your information, the NYC Sniffapalooza is tentatively scheduled for the end of October, so you can do both.

Some of the perfumes we’ll explore include:

Creed, Caron, Hanae Mori, Chanel Les Exclusifs, Hermes, Amouage, Keiko Mecheri, Parfums Delrae, Guerlain, Frederick Malle, Serge Lutens

And don’t forget CHOCOLATE! We’ll pause for lunch at foodlife®, where we will enjoy a special perfume presentation! foodlife® is a global culinary experience, with lots of food options and an incredible dessert bar! And if that’s not enough CHOCOLATE for you, we’ll visit the charming Sarah’s on Oak Street, as well as Ethel’s Chocolate Lounge in the Nordstrom building.

For the serious chocolate addict there are other fun destinations like Ghirardelli’s and Hershey’s on the Water Tower Square….then it’s on to more perfume!

This event is for anyone who is interested in learning more about perfume…or just wants to enjoy a scented, chocolatey weekend with friends! Everyone is welcome but we do need an RSVP to make decisions about how much space we need for certain events. Please contact us via email: chicocoascentsation (at) gmail (dot) com to reserve your lunch and event space. We will be providing a detailed itinerary as we get closer to the date but please note that this really is an informal event, not a forced march – you choose the shops you want to visit and the lines you want to sample and you can catch up with us anywhere during the day. Don’t forget: space must be reserved if you wish to be included in our lunch seating and perfume presentation. RSVP attendees will also be included in our great giveaway drawings. We’re also planning a blind fragrance swap among registered guests – bring a wrapped bottle of perfume (slightly used is okay) to swap!

There will also be perfume opportunities off Michigan Avenue on Sunday, 14/21 September, as well as some interesting non-perfume options.

Saturday’s event will be a walking event from Oak Street to the Michigan Avenue Bridge, so watch those stilettos! – for those with physical considerations, we will be happy to try to accommodate your requirements. All events will have some seating and every store/boutique we will visit will be less than a 5 minute cab ride to our next destination.

For more information please watch this space.

Date: 13 September 2008 OR 20 September 2008

Time: 10a – 6p with possible fun ‘n frolic after the Tour

Meet at: 900 N. Michigan Avenue Lobby (Michigan and Delaware)

Cost: There will be a nominal charge to cover events, possibly including a get-together on Friday night and/or brunch Sunday. We will finalize and announce the cost ASAP.

Meals: We will be offering a perfume presentation at foodlife® on Saturday in the Water Tower Place; lunch is an individual mealcard/pay, reservations are necessary. Please RSVP to: chicocoascentsation (at) gmail (dot) com

Fun: You betcha!

There is now a Chi-Cocoa Scentsation Forum in the Message Board link in the upper left column. Here is another link to the Message Board. We’ll be posting this and further notices in there, and you can use the message board to troll for potential roommates, travel companions, etc. We’ll make announcements on here and then post them on the Scentsation Forum.

Contact/RSVP email: chicocoascentsation (at) gmail (dot) com

Special thanks to Musette, Shelley and other volunteers for making this happen!

Hotel Info: Here are some suggestions for lodgings on and near the Mag Mile. Anyone with any other hotel information, please feel free to share it with the Posse and any/all attendees. All of these are within walking distance of either the beginning or the end of our Day.

North end of Mag Mile:

The Drake Hotel www.thedrakehotel.com
The Four Seasons www.fourseasons.com
Ritz-Carlton www.fourseasons.com/chicagorc
Peninsula www.chicago.peninsula.com
The Whitehall www.thewhitehallhotel.com
The Tremont www.starwoodhotels.com
The Westin Michigan Avenue
The Park Hyatt www.parkchicago.hyatt.com

Mid-Mag Mile (several hotels just off Mich Ave):
Allerton Hotel www.thealltertonhotel.com
Guest Quarters www.clubquarters.com
The James www.jameshotels.com
Hilton Garden
Embassy Suites www.suiteschicago.com
Mariott (Nordstrom’s building) www.mariott.com
Hotel Sax (Marina City) hotelsaxchicago.com (formerly House of Blues)

Across the Bridge:
Monaco www.monaco-chicago.com

I dropped the Big Cheese off at the airport yesterday for his trip to Thailand, China — and Burma. The devastation from Sunday’s cyclone (15,000 dead was the last count I read) changes his plans, but he’s not sure how yet. He has friends in Yangon, and the already limited communications are down. He’s going to get to BKK and see if he can bring something in (medicines, medical supplies) that might help, and try to discern whether his presence there for the cleanup would be a help or a hindrance. He’d like to help. Whenever I stick him on one of those planes and drive off I always get this weird feeling, like I’ve looked down and discovered one of my arms has gone missing. He loves Asia, and I could no more ask him to stay home than I could ask him to stop breathing. But still.

Since I was out there in that neck of the woods I figured I might as well stop at the Hermes Boutique and smell Un Jardin Apres La Mousson, the newest in the Jardin series. I like the other two a lot, but was not sure what to expect with this one. I have been fascinated by how much the responses and reviews have varied – folks are all over the place with their comments about Mousson. I can’t think of the last time something had such a wide range of descriptions – maybe SL Chypre Rouge?

Mousson’s notes are cardamom, coriander, pepper, ginger and vetiver accord. I had the SA at Hermes spritz my arm (they were “out of samples,” natch) and waited. The top is all about the spices – the cardamom, coriander and pepper, combined with the sharp heat of ginger, are astonishing. I’ve read several complaints about its being sort of wan and watery, and standing there sniffing those bits I was baffled – it is strong on me, bone dry and in its own peculiar way, quite lovely.

I still had my nose stuck to my wrist in thought when WHOMP!!! – the arrival of the (unlisted) aquatic melon accord dropped in. “Dropped in” as in, someone broke a freaking melon over my head. I kid you not, I startled the SA with my muffled scream – it was not clear to me before that moment how utterly nasty I find that smell. My stomach lurched and I jerked my head back and beat a hasty retreat from the store.

I actually contemplated scrubbing it, that’s just how horrifying it is, but stuck it out. And let me tell you, you people owe me for this one. If there is a hell, it definitely has a melon accord. On Now Smell This recently, a commenter coined the term “fruital” for brutally fruity. Mousson is one of the most fruital fragrances I have smelled in recent memory.

Eventually (two hours?) the aquamelon starts to meld into what is a very soft, clean vetiver. Six hours later I can still smell it — aquamelonvetiver. Once it is gone from my arm, I never, ever want to smell it again. Your Mileage May Vary.

While I was out there I ran across Givenchy Vetyver, so I put that on my left hand, with Guerlain Vetiver on my right hand for comparison. They’re totally different – Guerlain is more like a cologne with a vetiver note, whereas Givenchy is pretty much a straight vetiver (vetiflore?). In The Guide LT gives it four stars and calls it “wonderfully straightforward” and a “quality vetiver.” I get almost zero development – a little zingy at the top, maybe some citrus, and then a pleasantly earthy, arid (dirt-like, not “dirty”) vetiver. I am not the queen of vetiver, but it’s really nice – there’s something about it that makes my mouth water — and you vetiver freaks might want to dig some up. I’ll take the Guerlain, thanks.

On my way out of the mall I experienced my second fragrance haunting in 24 hours – the air in the corridor all around me was infused with the smell of a perfume I recognized instantaneously but – maddeningly – could not place, like having a word on the tip of my tongue. I went back into Bloomingdales and sniffed around, looking for it. The second I smelled it, I knew – Dolce & Gabbana’s The One, with its distinctive warm, musky base. I like The One a lot, I’ll probably keep an eye peeled for a cheapie bottle next fall when it’ll feel right. I wonder if someone dropped one in the hallway?

And last night, in the middle of anxious dreams, I woke up to my first fragrance haunting – the reassuring smell from …. well, from when? It was a happy smell. What was that smell? Definitely a fragrance. I lay there in the dark, in the small hours, and contemplated it. Something a friend wore that I loved. Eventually I realized the smell of some random lotion I’d put on at bedtime had conjured my ghost, but what was the original scent? And then I remembered and it bloomed in front of me in the dark – Tatiana. Diane Von Furstenberg, I think Tatiana’s her daughter? Seriously, anyone on the planet remember that? Weird asymmetrical bottle? I should go google it and see if it exists. I feel a burst of joy just thinking about it. I remember it was really sweet and a little raspy and a little green. Jasmine? I have no idea. It’s probably total crap. Looks like they’ve got it on Beautyencounter for ten bucks. I don’t know, maybe I should leave my happy memory intact? Tonight, I’m hoping for the Ghost of Guerlains Past.

image of monks with umbrellas: traveltolao.com

I think I have remarkably few bottles for a fragrance obsessive. I’m not going to name a number because (like sexual partners) no matter what I say, some of you would be horrified at the sheer wanton profligacy of my spending, while others of you would think, is that all she’s got? And she calls herself a perfume blogger. My general rule is, I have to work through a decant (assuming I can get one) before I buy a bottle. Since I already own more fragrance than I could wear in several lifetimes, I don’t “need” any more bottles.

But I continue to buy them. In the last four weeks I have bought:

A ginormous (quart? liter?) bottle of Muelhens 4711, because I’ve been wearing it since high school, my small bottle ran out last summer, and the local Perfumania had three sizes at deep, deep discount – I think I paid $18 for something that’s almost the size of a standard bottle of vodka. (Well, my standard. Your standards may be different.) I’ve never seen it there before and may never see it again. I told my Greek barber about my find and I am pretty sure he sent his wife over there to clean them out. One of my favorite things about his barbershop is the bottles of 4711 sitting on the counter in front of each chair, waiting to be splashed.

A bottle of KenzoAmour Indian Holi because rumor has it it’s an LE (which will probably turn out to be a lie), I thought it would make a cheerful, floral-incense alternative to my usual citrus summer fare, and I bought it from Gail, the long-suffering, lovely SA at the local Nordstrom who gives me tons of samples. Yup — paid full retail. Go ahead, laugh.

A bottle of Estee Lauder Bronze Goddess Eau Fraiche even though I have a generous decant I will probably never work through. I bought it because EL was having a really great Gift With Purchase thingy at Bloomies, and I love me a GWP. I cheerfully admit the lameness of my reasoning on this one.

Idole de Lubin, because right after I fell in love with it, it popped up on eBay. I only saved maybe 25 bucks off retail. If there’s something wrong with it (and often there is with frags on eBay) it won’t have been much of a bargain, will it?

L’Artisan Safran Troublant (the teeny bottle) because Patty bought the Epices coffret and mentioned she only wanted the Poivre and Piment, and I was getting ready to buy another decant.

Claude Montana Just Me – unsniffed purchase from online retailer, because LT said in The Guide (in his review of my beloved Worth Courtesan, which got three stars) that it was “reminiscent of the sadly discontinued Montana Just Me.” Hmmm. Well, they are similar in that both are fragrances for women, and the resemblance stops there. To my nose, Just Me is reminiscent of peppered toilet bowl cleaner. And not in a good way. Damn you, LT.

Jo Malone Dark Amber & Ginger Lily and JM Lotus Blossom & Water Lily – because they are (allegedly) LEs, and what if they run out??! Remember to tease me about this if/when they wind up in the regular line, and/or the supply goes on forever.

Okay, your turn! A little research, please, for my own nefarious purposes. Please tell me why you sprung for your last fragrance(s) – more precisely, why did you purchase it at that exact moment? (On sale, DWB {drunk while bidding}, rare fragrance opportunity, unsniffed purchase prompted by The Guide, pre-date fragrance emergency…) I’d also be interested in whether that was the first time you’d smelled it, you bought it unsniffed, or whether you’d been thinking about it for awhile. For example: my 4711 was a replacement bottle of a long-time favorite, the EL I’d already sniffed a couple times and decided I liked, and the Indian Holi was completely spontaneous impulse purchase the first time I’d smelled it.

* * *

Avon ad image from Corning Museum of Glass (cmog.org)

(hi, folks — here’s a guest post by Nava, a regular reader and contributor at Perfume Critic and Makeupalley, and a commenter at the Posse as well as other scented and unscented blogs. She lives in New York with her husband and cat, and loves to be a contrarian in her spare time.)

I am convinced the act of hoarding is hereditary. The female members of my immediate family have proven to be fine examples of this art of “collecting”. My maternal grandmother hoarded food; she survived the Great Depression after emigrating from Poland to Canada after World War I. In better times she also hoarded bed linens, table cloths and tea towels. We’re not talking cheap stuff, either. The finest Irish linen you could bargain for on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, purchased during a time when you could bargain for such things. Unfortunately, I never got to witness my grandmother in all her bargaining-mode glory, but I did see all her purchases come tumbling out of the hall closet after her death when I was 9 years-old. As my mother cleaned out her apartment, she could not bear to part with all the pristine linens that never graced a bed or table. Since my mom’s passing, they now reside carefully stored in my attic, along with other family treasures. But the hoarding did not end there.

I have a Serge Drawer. Yes, a drawer that contains nothing but Serge Lutens fragrances. My drawer is not part of a girly, organza-skirted vanity table or antique armoire; it is one nondescript drawer of a 17 year-old Ikea pressboard dresser that I bought when I moved into my first apartment. I used to keep underwear in this particular drawer. It is a top drawer after all. But now it houses 15 export bottles and 23 bell jars, all of them still shrink-wrapped and just as pristine as my grandmother’s 50 year-old linens. I cannot bring myself to unwrap them, much less consider wearing them. I wish my Bubbie Sarah was still around so I could ask her why she bought all those linens if she never intended to use them. Then, maybe I’d have some insight into my own peccadillo, and an answer to why I never touch any of these bottles of fragrance.

I think a goodly amount of my reticence stems from the exclusivity of the Serge Lutens line, the fact that most of them are only available in one specific place in one particular city. My husband and I took a vacation to Dublin and London 3-1/2 years ago, and journeyed via Eurostar through the Chunnel from London to Paris. Since we were spending only one day in the City of Light, I had only three must-see destinations: the Eiffel Tower, the Mona Lisa (we were, after all, tourists), and the Salons du Shiseido. My husband was quite the good sport whilst I pillaged the Salons; he waited outside. When I finally emerged, we made our way out of the Palais Royale and over to the Louvre so we could do a mad dash through as much of it as possible (reference Mark Twain’s images of American tourists in Innocents Abroad running through the Vatican Museum to get to the Sistine Chapel; been there, done that, too). As we approached the glass pyramid, I wondered why there were not more people milling about, despite the fact that we descended on Paris on a very grey, chilly November day. It was a Tuesday, and you would think we would have known that the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays. No such luck. No mention of it either from the lovely French girl at the concierge desk in our London hotel who very happily almost booked us 2 first class Eurostar tickets which would have set us back about £800. Of course, I prevented that from happening.

Turned away at the Louvre, myself, my husband and my 4 bell jars (Rahat Loukhoum, Muscs Koublai Khan, Bois et Fruits and Cuir Mauresque) went stomping all the way down the Champs-Élysées, to the Avenue Montaigne, past every designer shop and the Plaza Athinée, without even pausing to look at anything. I was following the Eiffel Tower, just like I used to follow the CN Tower all over the city of Toronto when I was a kid. I was a woman on a mission. I kept thinking, OK, I can still make two out of three, with the Meat Loaf song “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” earworming its way through my head the entire time.

When we finally reached the tower, and while waiting in line to buy tickets, I noticed what I presumed to be an American couple standing in the snaking line. What gave them away was that the woman was carrying the Frommer’s Guide to Paris, something I flat out refused to buy since I didn’t think we’d need it; we were only going to be there for one lousy day. Armed with just my très, très mal university French and a fistful of Euros, I thought we’d be fine. Of course I inquired of this woman, “Could you please tell me if your guide says which day of the week the Louvre is closed?” She, a very nice lady from Des Moines Iowa traveling with her husband, graciously informed me, “Uh, it says here the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays.” Upon hearing that news, I believe I turned a shade of red non-existent in nature. At least that’s what my husband claims.

On the train back to London, I clutched my bottles of fragrance with the vehemence of a lioness guarding her newborn cubs. I couldn’t help it; they were the most significant souvenirs of my trip, along with my disappointment and frustration. I vowed I was going to hunt down that French concierge girl and beat her senseless for not informing us that the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays. I did make mention that it was one of our planned destinations, but alas, for reasons not known, she never communicated that little tidbit of information. I remain disappointed to this day, since I have not been back to Paris. A travel journalist friend of mine loves to tell people that you should never go anywhere thinking that you will never revisit the place you are going to. Of course, he traverses the globe on the good graces of the airlines and stays at the best hotels in the world for a mere fraction of what Joe Schmo tourist would pay. In all fairness, I must mention that our trip was made possible by his contacts, and if not for them, would have cost somewhere in the neighborhood of a loaded Toyota Corolla.

As I previously mentioned, my Serge Lutens collection has grown significantly from the original 4 bottles. The “export” fragrances can be had fairly easily, but there is just something about those bell jars that elicits a powerful I’ll-walk-barefoot-over-broken- glass-then-wade-waist-deep-through-raw-sewage urge to get my hands on them. I have gone through backchannels and shopping services and of course, the ubiquitous auction site to obtain my bottles. I don’t consider myself overly materialistic, but I will admit that my Serge Drawer houses some of my most prized possessions. I still harbor the dream of going back to Paris one day and re-visiting the Salons, and going back to the Louvre, of course; just not on a Tuesday.

Anyone keeping an eye out for alarming signs indicating the coming of the End Times need look no further than my recent infatuation with some Jo Malone scents. I gave up on Jo Malone quite awhile ago, not too far into my fragrance addiction – somewhere after French Nectarine, Verbena & Lime. Or maybe it was Orange Blossom, Basil & Lavender. I forget. An “edgy” JM scent like Pomegranate Noir was notable to me solely for its stubborn refusal to leave my skin no matter how much I scrubbed.

Then I smelled the new Jo Malone Kohdo Wood Collection at the Sniffa. The Collection contains two fragrances: Dark Amber & Ginger Lily, and Lotus Blossom & Water Lily, and I was stunned to find myself falling for Dark Amber & Ginger Lily. It’s a heavy amber, a Jo Malone, an allegedly limited edition – three strikes against it. I meant to buy some, forgot, and last week I found myself wandering over to Bloomie’s for a new pair of yoga pants and another sniff, because I couldn’t put it out of my mind.

Dark Amber & Ginger Lily is the night-time “sensual” scent of the pair, and features cardamom, pink pepper (which is in everything now, did they pass some law requiring it? not that I’m complaining), ginger, night blooming jasmine, orchid, water lily, rose, black amber, white pepperwood, leather, patchouli, sandalwood and Kyara incense accord. The JM boutique Sales Associate was at lunch when I stopped by, and I was amused at the very nice Chanel SA’s insistence on the “nighttime-only” appropriateness of the Dark Amber – it was pretty clear she thought the circumstances under which you’d want to wear something like that were severely limited. I know some of you have already fallen in love with it. The time of year for its launch seems wrong (it strikes me as a fall scent) but it is a wonderfully smooth, seamless mélange of amber, intense dark florals and woods, creamy, and in my opinion quite a departure from what I have smelled from the line. The incense and spices are strongest at the opening — the incense is lovely in both scents, but I feel obligated to point out that if you’re interested solely because of the incense, this would probably disappoint. I’d describe it as amber/woody with an incense twist. I get more woody incense right at the tail end of the day, after the florals depart. There is a faint odd note like tanning oil or milky coconut that drifts in and out for the first hour before disappearing. I can’t pick out any of the notes listed, and it doesn’t go through a ton of development – it’s warm and rich, and I can’t think of anything else quite like it. If it were a color, it would be a deep red. Contrary to the Chanel SA’s opinion I can see wearing this a lot — it’s sultry by JM standards, I guess, but Poison or Fracas it is not. Having said that, it’s got some decent sillage and might not be the best choice for close quarters at work, particularly if your cube-mate’s idea of heaven is a light citrus cologne.

The Lotus Blossom & Water Lily is the “energizing daytime” scent and includes aquatic notes (horrors!), grapefruit, bergamot, mandarin, lotus blossom, freesia, honeysuckle, water lily, jasmine, incense, amber, sandalwood, musk, aloeswood and guaiac wood. I knew I was buying the Dark Amber but tried on the Lotus Blossom to confirm my lack of interest, and I realized … well, there might be more to the Lotus Blossom than I thought. I put it on the way I hear a normal person wears perfume (squirt on my cleavage, one on the wrists) and went off for my yoga pants and further consideration. Fifteen minutes later I decided I needed a bottle of the Lotus Blossom as well. The citrus comes on fairly strong in the first few minutes, more grapefruit than mandarin, but then it settles into a mildly sweet, watery floral, with a enough of the woods and incense to move it in a more unisex direction and keep it interesting to me. (The aquatic bit isn’t “fresh,” that ironically-named deal-killer that smells sour, like a basket of dirty laundry.) For a relatively light scent it is tenacious – I can smell it on my clothing the following day – and it has the interesting ability to disappear and then suddenly halo around me. I think this would make an excellent, inoffensive work scent. Having discovered its tenacity on fabric, I sprayed my sheets one evening and enjoyed that as well. At $95 for 100ml, it doesn’t fill me with guilt, but you can get 30ml for $50, and anything for $50 is, essentially, free and thus doesn’t count against my perfume budget.

I have many, many scents for cooler weather, but comparatively few I want to smell in a Washington summer. In general, most florals, by the time they reach an appropriate level of lightness for the D.C. heat and humidity, are no longer interesting to me. This leaves a plethora of citrus and tea scents, many of which by definition don’t have huge lasting power. Lotus Blossom is a nice change of pace. This is one of those scents I would love some additional feedback on – I find myself quite hopelessly in its thrall, while at the same time suspecting that it is the perfume equivalent of 7-Up. By the way, they smell delicious layered.

Since I’d clearly lost my mind, and the exceedingly well-trained Jo Malone SA showed back up, I decided to sample some others. Having politely turned down most of the citrus-y JM standards, I accepted a paper strip with White Jasmine & Mint on it – and was, again, smitten. The sharp, sparkling wetness of the mint against the intense, creamy sweetness of a clean jasmine was such a perfect combination I wondered how nobody had tried it before. In The Guide, Tania Sanchez gives it three stars and calls it “an optimistic but crude cologne” (an assessment I agree with, by the way; I have a lot of three-star scents I love) and says is has been done before – and better – in L’Artisan’s The Pour Une Ete. I don’t have a sample here to smell, but my recollection was that the L’Artisan was more about the tea, and less minty. Also, Tania says JM “tries to make everything last longer by throwing in a tenacious musk” which is “vigorous but unnecessary.” To which I respond, and that’s part of what I love about it – L’Artisan lasts about 20 minutes on me. White Jasmine & Mint eventually collapses in on itself and loses its mint after an hour, and then it’s kind of flat. You can’t keep reapplying or you’ll kill yourself eventually with the jasmine. Nonetheless, I see at least a decant in my future.

The Jo Malones are all about layering. I like to layer, but am (perversely) annoyed by a house that deliberately encourages me to do that – shouldn’t their fragrances be good enough to stand alone? They’re just trying to sell more product! This thinking makes no sense, I realize. Anyway, the SA talked about layering the lighter/sweeter scents with some of the scents on the darker end of the spectrum, and if you haven’t tried it already, let me heartily recommend their Wild Fig & Cassis layered with the Black Vetyver Café, which – what kind of idiot am I?!? How have I missed that one? I’ll need some of that this fall, although I’ll test drive it first — tons of complaints about lasting power on Black Vetyver. How’s it work for you? On the other hand, Robin says the Kohdo Wood ones don’t last that long on her either. I must have some sort of freaky, molecular-vacuum-lock skin; I may complain all the time, but it’s seldom about lasting power. All of these lasted a full day (on in the morning; still there at bedtime) on me, and I could still smell them if I sniffed for them in the a.m.

For another take on the scents, please see Robin’s review from yesterday on Now Smell This.

image: jomalone.com

As promised, today’s a revisit of Perfumes: The Guide by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez, now that more of you have had a chance to read it. For my earlier review of the book, click here. I propose a free-for-all discussion of any aspects of the book that interest you, with the gentle reminder that we are all adults, theoretically, and we can disagree and still maintain some civility. Please don’t make me come on here and moderate.

The Guide has been a hot topic and occasional source of hard feelings since its release. Obviously I don’t agree with everything in it. My personal approach is the grain-of-salt angle; if I’m in agreement with LT and TS, well, then – we are all genius. If I’m in disagreement – someone is wrong, and it isn’t me, is it? I’m grateful someone thought the topic was of sufficient interest to publish a book on it, and I welcome any converts to the brave new world of perfume obsession. Lurkers – today may be the day to let your hair down and post your first comment! I’m also sending a shout-out to Mercedes and other commenters on The Guide over the past couple of weeks to reiterate your criticisms.

I probably spend a little time each day, often before bed, browsing the book. I’ve folded down the corners of various pages, with the earmarked perfume reviews falling into three general categories, and here are a few examples:

Vindication. I’m going to leave aside reviews of classics like Chanel No. 5 and Mitsouko, which would have shocked me had they awarded anything less than five stars. More rewarding to me is to see scents I think of as underdogs get a little love from the authors. This is especially true when my admiration for a particular scent comes with a small but (I’m being honest here) persistent fear that my love for that scent indicates I have crappy taste. Gucci Rush would fall into this category. It’s a wonderful, weird, brash scent – warmly human but surreal, hairspray and milk. Having TS award it five stars (“… it smells so new, so confident, so reckless, so of-the-moment, Rush manages at every stage to feel cozy and alive…”) gives me an absurd amount of pleasure. A different kind of vindication is seeing LT give Serge Lutens Rousse two stars and call it “one fine mess” from “the periode bizarre.” Heh. Another example is Dior’s Hypnotic Poison (four stars, LT), the “almond” Poison, which I’m wild for, almost as much as the original, and which LT describes as “dark, velvety and autumnally muted, and … radiates in a way that only a great perfumer could have arranged… it was done by Annick Menardo, which explains everything.”

Provocation. Having the authors pan something I like, or love something I hate, doesn’t send me into the spasms of fury I’ve seen elsewhere on the boards and blogs. My reasoning: if I start with the construct that criticism is opinion, no matter how well- or ill-informed, and I disagree with that opinion – then I guess we have a difference of opinion, and I’m okay with that. I am sure it would feel more personal if I were the actual perfumer (and more about that in a bit), but as someone said elsewhere, if you put your creation out there for public consumption, someone, somewhere is going to hate it. Anyway, LT gives Hermes Hiris one measly star (lots of lame stuff got at least two) and manages to pay Hiris creator (and one of my favorite perfumers) Olivia Giacobetti a backhanded compliment at the same time, lauding two of her other fragrances as “great insofar as she manages to break with her usual manner: delicate florals with a pale, sour note reminiscent of clothes washed with unscented fabric softener.” Yeow, that smarts. And while we’re on the topic of perfumers, LT seems to have his favorites and not-so-favorites. Further, I generalize that he is not a big fan of pared-down, minimalist compositions. I could go on for paragraphs citing examples of ratings I totally disagree with, but will name just a few: Marc Jacobs Men (one star); MoslBuddJewChristHinDao (five stars, and puh-leaze), Serge Lutens Sarrasins (five stars), Secretions Magnifiques (ELd’O, five stars, kill.me.now), Apothia Velvet Rope (one star.)

Revelations. Perhaps my favorite part of the book, these are reviews of fragrances I have tried that highlight some aspect I hadn’t noticed or appreciated. Or, they are fragrances I haven’t tried and now want to try, desperately. A random sampling from My Must-Retry list:

L’Artisan Vagnilia (“unfettered, hilarious, boisterous, totally devoid of chic” – that last bit is a compliment in context.) LT gives it five stars and makes it sound like a riot, which I totally missed.

L’Artisan Patchouli Patch – four stars from LT and an ode to its development, which he says includes my BFF helichrysum (everlasting flower or immortelle) in the middle. Wow, really? I’ll check it out.

Hermes Osmanthe Yunnan – this may be the only Hermessence the authors liked. TS gives it five stars and talks about the milky aspect of the fragrance, which gets my attention, and calls it “a perfume of pure happiness.” Need to unearth my sample.

A random sample of the New To Me and Must Try category:

Etro Gomma (LT, three stars) “a classic leather in the Knize Ten mold, but more floral, composed by the great Edward Flechier.” Never heard of it.

Profumo.it Grezzo (LT, four stars). “A beautiful woody-fruity confection based on an accord that smells like cedar and apricots (osmanthus?)” He goes on. I want it.

Lady Stetson (TS, four stars). She compares it favorably (and actually prefers it) to Chanel No. 22, which I like very, very much, and no, I am not kidding, although she describes the bottle as hideous. Buy It Now at your local CVS.

Mauboussin (LT, four stars). “An oriental situated somewhere between the first Kenzo Jungle and Fendi’s Theorema, with a skilful combination of warm, mouthwatering dried-fruit notes and clean, uplifting woody-resinous incense and olibanum,” done by Christine Nagel. What was that? Oh, look, and there goes my credit card levitating out of my wallet for an unsniffed purchase.

A couple more thoughts and I’ll shut up and let you dive in. First, I have a relatively high tolerance for snark, and I believe I heard/read that the authors axed a couple of their reviews as too mean. Furthermore, perfumers have to suck it up and take the criticism of their oeuvre just as other artists do. Having said that, LT’s reviews of Mona di Orio’s line seem so vitriolic I can’t help but wonder if there’s a personal element in there. This from a review of Carnation (LT, one star): “She also says she studied with Edmond Roudnitska, but her creations suggest she paid little attention.” Lux – one star, LT, “dire citrus.” Nuit Noire – one star, LT, “a hilariously bad fragrance” with “a loud civet fart.” Oiro – one star, LT, “third-world air freshener.” I spoke of respecting others’ opinions, and LT’s got me beat on any level of technical knowledge of perfumery, but … seriously, come on. One star? For all of them? Did their PR drone make LT mad?  This is the only set of reviews that taken together make me uncomfortable.

And last – Do fragrances change according to the wearer’s chemistry? This is a question in the interesting Q&A in the book. TS starts her answer, “For a long time, LT believed the answer to be absolutely no, and that all assertions to the contrary were marketing ploys” etc., and reading that, one expects a paragraph later on in the question explaining how LT’s changed his mind. I’ve now read that question several times, and it’s never clear to me in what way he’s changed his position, which I think he’s held firm to on the various talk shows and interviews. If I read this right, they concede that skin maybe creates nuances in the top notes, but that all drydowns are equal. I am in no position to argue with LT on the technical merits – but, as almost anyone has experienced in a group sniffing situation, fragrances seem to smell different on different people. I know that’s not a reasoned argument; it’s merely a statement. Most folks who’ve sniffed fragrances simultaneously on other people would agree with me, science or no science, and I’m not just talking about the top notes. Fragrances go inexplicably wrong – sweet or sour, musky or strange – on various people at various times. For another educated view on skin chemistry, see Victoria on her recent post on Bois de Jasmin (and so wonderful to see you back, V!)

Enough from me. The floor’s open. Your thoughts?

Musette is hard at work on the Chicago Thingy – a get-together with perfume and chocolate in Chicago on a Saturday in September/October. Have you been to Chicago? Chicago has: great food; interesting architecture; excellent theater; amazing shopping. And did I mention chocolate? And perfume? Anyway, that is Musette in the photo, and … wow, look at her, does she not slay? (Musette, is that your bike? I think so.) She is working on a day of chocolate and perfumage including potentially: Saks, L’Artisan, Barneys, Nordstrom, Godiva, Lindt, Ethel’s, Vosges, Sarah’s Candies … wait, sorry, I had to wipe the drool off my keyboard. We’ll also put together a list of other things to see/do/visit, in the perfume/chocolate world and beyond. I took the architecture tour on the river and loved it. We are not calling this a Sniffa – the Karens own that name, as far as I know, so we need something else. I find Chicago Thingy amusing, but Musette quite reasonably thinks we need something more mellifluous in terms of getting the stores to sponsor stuff and cough up goodies. What do you think of Chi-cocoa Scentsation, suggested by our other fab Chicago volunteer, Shelley? Any other ideas/suggestions regarding any aspect of this thingy?

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Annick Goutal Sables seems to be enjoying a (deserved) resurgence, my having run across it recently on the shelf in various places. That’s one I thought would have gotten the chop by now, because it’s so odd, but I’m happy to discover it in the lineup next to the masculine bottles of Duel, Hadrian, Mandragore and the rest. But all the Sables in the world can’t really replace Eau de Monsieur.

I have been told several times that Annick Goutal Eau de Monsieur is discontinued, although I don’t know whether that’s true — it’s the sort of thing sales associates tell you when they don’t have any. I have never seen Monsieur in a retail store. It doesn’t appear on any of the AG websites that I can find, and it’s getting a bit harder to find on the internet. Osmoz calls it a woody chypre and lists citron, oakmoss, amber and sandalwood, a list that feels suspiciously incomplete to me.

I’m pretty sure it was tmp00 who sent me a decant of Eau de Monsieur eons ago, when I was on one of my immortelle benders; he thought it smelled like immortelle, and I agreed. Among other interesting nuggets in The Guide, I was happy to see Tania Sanchez describe Eau de Monsieur as having “the crispness of citrus, a mossy chypre background, all made interesting by a touch of the fascinating caramel-curry note of immortelle.” She labels it citrus mossy and gives it four stars.

Eau de Monsieur starts off as a very Goutal-ish confection of citrus, woods and the sprightly herbal greenness you get from Hadrian. At that point it’s merely enjoyable – the sort of thing, like a higher grade Muelhens 4711, that you’d throw on on a hot summer day. The oakmoss makes its appearance, but even then it is delicate and nuanced; despite its name, this barely qualifies as a masculine. I’d call it solidly unisex, along the lines of Duel or Hadrian. It isn’t until well into the drydown (30 minutes or so) that the immortelle begins its wonderful, distinctive dance on my skin, its maple-curry sweetness tempered beautifully by the dryness of the oakmoss.

I think in its own understated way, Eau de Monsieur is a perfect scent – managing to give just enough (but not too much) of several enjoyable aspects of perfumery. It doesn’t have the kill-me-now, 48-hour one-note persistence that Sables has, the only time immortelle has worn out its welcome, and then some. If it had more of a chypre feel it would conversely be less accessible in warm weather, which is when it seems most right, although you could argue it’s essentially seasonless. It’s a cologne that’s more than a cologne, by which I mean it’s not gone in 20 minutes, yet it retains that element of refreshment. In contrast, Dior’s Eau Noire is many things, but refreshing it is not, at least not to me. The only suggestion I can make to the house regarding Monsieur’s improvement would be to resurrect it if, in fact, it is dead, and place it prominently on the shelf at a Sephora near you.

First off, a shout-out to Patty, who will be on NPR at 11:40 EST this morning, as part of a Perfumes: The Guide interview with LT and TS, I guess they’re going for the blogger perspective. Go, Patty! Second, a reminder, this coming Friday we are featuring your anonymous reviews of Clinique Aromatics Elixir and Happy, and Tommy Girl, so get those reviews emailed in to perfume dot posse at gmail dot com (with the correct punctuation marks substituted for “dot” and “at”) and we’ll print them. Third, next Monday, a week from today, is another free-for-all discussion on The Guide. Because, seriously, We Need To Talk. I Have Issues. Thus far I’ve flagged reviews that make me feel smug, a couple that make me want to try (or retry) something, and a couple that kill me. Okay, on to today’s topic.

The problem with reading about scents is you may learn something. Luca Turin has spoiled two scents for me in just this way recently. In The Guide he describes 21 Costume National as an “anisic oriental” and bam! Although anise is not listed among the 21 notes, when I smell it, anise is now the dominant note of this milky woody wonder (he gives it three stars). Anise being about as welcome in my fragrance collection as a bear at a picnic, my ardor for 21 has cooled. Also, I have had an on-again off-again relationship with L’Artisan Safran Troublant for quite some time, but it appears to be on again, my having acquired one of the small coffret bottles. Then I read LT’s review (four stars) in which he talks about the wonderful interplay among the saffron, vanilla and rose. Rose! Of course! The rose note was obvious as soon as I read it. Now, the rose having moved squarely to the forefront, it hogs the stage every time I smell it. I can barely see the saffron behind it.

Vexed by these developments, I dug around in all my samples looking for something different. Kelly had sent me some other Dawn Spencer Hurwitz scents, so I checked those out. Then I turned my attention to Gail’s package full of fragrances by Liz Zorn. (Thanks Kelly and Gail!)

The great thing about perfumery is, you can have sniffed so very, very much and there are still entire lines you know nothing about. I selected two Liz Zorns to put on – Grand Canyon, because Marina had blogged on it and I’d wanted to try it, and Pink Praline, because I was feeling perverse and it seemed, based on the label, to be the one thing I’d be least likely to enjoy.

LZ Pink Praline gave me an immediate masochistic satisfaction – I smiled, awaiting burial under a giant mass of what smelled like sugar and cocoa, with an odd discordant note I couldn’t place. I usually loathe chocolate in my fragrance, and this was no exception. After three minutes it quiets down quite a bit, the odd top note fades, and I began to … well, to like it. Go figure. I decided to look at the notes: pink grapefruit, cocoa, maple, dark roasted coffee, spices, cinnamon, honey, fenugreek, vanilla. The odd note at the top is the grapefruit – yes, a sweet citrus on top of cocoa. I can’t pick the coffee out until the drydown, when it becomes quite prominent. In the drydown it’s a seamless, not overly sweet gourmand confection – the smell of being in a bakery, but a nice one, and the maple/fenugreek gives an immortelle-esque twist. You choco/gourmand freaks should check this out.

LZ Grand Canyon (sweet orange, clementine, blood orange, neroli, laurel leaf, palma rosa, black pepper, labdanum, benzoin, honey, myrrh, sandalwood, spices, rose, jasmine, vetiver) starts out with a jumble of citrus, rose and laurel, and my immediate reaction was – nah. It had that kind of macerated green soup vibe that wasn’t working for me. Then the citrus fades into the spices, jasmine and woods, it becomes an warmly elegant comfort scent – the kind that’s pretty enough to wear out, more sophisticated than your favorite sweatshirt, but just as cozy. My favorite of the bunch listed in this post.

I sat out in the sun on the back porch, the first day it was warm enough to do so. I should have gotten out my sun hat. But I didn’t. Sitting there, wondering about sniffing the other Liz Zorn samples, my bad mood gone, cataloging my constant stream of perfumed thoughts (I never ordered those last DSH samples!, and do I already have a vial of Givenchy Vetyver and don’t realize it?), I suddenly understood. It wouldn’t matter if I smelled them all and never smelled them again, much less owned them. It explains my phenomenal sample collection versus my relatively sparse bottle collection. I watched those bees buzz all around me, looking for their next hit, and I realized: I am a perfume vagabond. I want to taste the honey from every single flower on this earth, and if I never own that flower… that’s okay. I’m just a bee, and it was worth it.

* * *

DSH Tamarind Paprika – this one fascinates me. Half the time – a bitter, sour, nasty, cheapo potpourri-from-hell smell. The other half of the time – an interesting tobacco-and-mulling-spices.

DSH Prana smells exactly like the inside of an Aveda store.

DSH Vanille – a rich, straight, gourmand vanilla I enjoyed sniffing on the edge of my thumb, and would probably kill me in larger doses.

DSH Arome d’Egypt – DSH does spice and gourmand scents really well. This is sort of a spice market/incense scent.

DSH Jitterbug – this is in fact a wonderful old-fashioned spicy oriental fragrance that one could imagine wafting up from various vintage bottles.

Liz Zorn Sunset Rider – huh. To the extent we’re developing a trend, what I’m discovering sampling her stuff is I find the top notes jarring, and then the whole fragrance opens up and shifts in a direction I like better. Having done this several times now, I’m kind of enjoying the construct; it gets my attention. Sunset Rider starts off with what I think is a citrus/sandalwood blast, then dries down into a fairly indolic jasmine, and you know I like my jasmine dirty.

LZ Vanillaville. From her website: “A rustic, smoky vanilla, with the essence of pipe tobacco and leather. Notes include Almond, Tonka, Tarragon, Birch Tar and Coffee.” To me it smelled like a perfect sweet pipe tobacco rather than leather.

LZ Solstice – (formerly Peace on Earth?). Balsam, white pine, rose, jasmine, violet, cassie, clove, sandalwood, agarwood, rosewood, frankincense, myrrh, amber, woods, balsam of Peru, orris, patchouli, tuberose, moss, ambrette, vanilla. A floral incense. I got the extrait. It’s very soft and comforting, lightly spicy. I want to spray this on and see how I felt about it, I think I would love it. For some reason it’s not coming up at all on her website.

LZ Chado - Green Tea, Blue Cypress, fresh herbs. The website describes it as GRASSY-DRY-HERBAL, which is not my sort of thing. However, that’s a perfect description.

LZ Oolong – a peach tea and tooooo sweeet on me. The only one of the bunch I really didn’t care for.

LZ Blood Orange and Vetiver – hey, remember Wickle Chestnut & Vetiver? No? Sigh. That was such a great scent. Its simplity in concept was part of its charm. This is along the same lines – a sweet/tart juicy orange mixed with a fairly rooty vetiver.

LZ Cordovan Rose – the big rose opening up and walloped my nose, but before I could scream in horror the birch tar and glove leather painted a smile on my face. I still wouldn’t wear it, because it’s rose, but fans of leathery roses might love this. The rose fades over time, leaving me with a soft, sweet leather.

Liz Zorn is, I think, moving her goods to her new website, selling them under a different name, Soivohle, and I’m going to gripe that I hate the setup, in which all the fragrances are sold using abbreviations – Sunset Rider becomes SR-05-N. Hon, why? They already have (slightly groovy) names, which I kinda like. I view this as a step backward. Alphanumeric reference-style naming is dull and hard to remember. It didn’t work well for Parfums MDCI, it didn’t work well for biehl.parfumkunstwerke, and it ain’t gonna work well for you either.

bee image: pdphoto.org

It’s that time of year again — our Top Ten Spring fragrances, even if it hasn’t felt quite as much like spring at this point as we’d hoped. Patty and March each offer up five’ish scents perfect for thinking about spring:

March

Spring is probably my least favorite fragrance season, which strikes me as not the right way to start this post, but there you are. It’s not that I don’t like spring — I do. But delicate florals and cheerful musks aren’t my cup of … dirt. So here are some other suggestions.

1) Dirt. Number one, of course, would be CB I Hate Perfume’s Black March, with its smell of thawing soil, spring air and unfurled buds. Neil Morris’ Dark Earth is a more classic take on the dirt smell. Or go dig into Demeter’s website — Wet Garden, Dirt, Beet Root, Earthworm...

2) Violets. Not sweet candied violets, but crisp, cool violets. L’Artisan Verte Violette is a popular choice. I much prefer Annick Goutal’s cool, sharp Violette, or Les Nez’ wonderfully strange, woefully underappreciated, frosted-cucumber Unicorn Spell.

3) Masculines. It’s counterintuitive, but something about cool, fresh spring air brings on a desire to splash on some retro classic like Guerlain Derby (which I was stunned to discover Luca Turin called “one of the ten best masculines of all time” in The Guide, five stars) or Christian Dior Jules (which he also loves, four stars).

4) Weepy florals. Malle En Passant (lilac, rain, bread, fence, wet tarmac). And of course, Guerlain Apres l’Ondee (heliotrope, iris, tears from heaven). When this fails to appear on my list of great spring scents, I will be dead.

5) Aldehydes. In general I admire the champagne fizziness of aldehydes more than enjoy wearing them. Spring, however, seems to bring on a desire for that peculiar smell. By the way, if you think “I hate aldehydes,” have you tried many different ones? I think sometimes people object to aldehydes that seem jaded (like Van Cleef & Arpels First) or formal and mannered (Chanel 5, 22). If those freak you out, try my personal favorite, Robert Piguet Baghari, with its roses, cheerful neroli and creamy vanilla-amber base — giving the aldehydes the warm glow of the sun than the cool glimmer of moonlight.

Patty

While I love spring, especially after this horribly long winter, spring scents sometimes seem a little too cheerful when I’m just lumbering up out of my long winter perfumes. Makes me cranky and decidedly uncheerful.

1) Cheerful without appearing to be. Hermessence Osmanthe Yunnan. It sparkles, it reflects air and radiates good cheer, but it’s not grinning right in your face with its big toothy smile. Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist is studiously not cheerful, but it never fails to make my spirits soar, radiating the earthy goodness of the dirt and sun… a coldly warm, stunning charmer.

2) Weepy Florals. Ditto what March said. These two will always be on my spring list and my funeral list.

3) Underappreciated charmers. Marina had me sniffing L’Artisan La Chasse Aux Papillon Extreme when we were in NYC, and for some reason, I had never smelled it. It is richer and fuller than the regular Papillon and not as yappy as I sometimes find the regular version to be, while remaining quintessentially spring.

4) Ridiculously Overpriced. Yeah, yeah, I know, but it really is beautiful - Christian Dior La Collection Particuliere Passage No. 8. Gorgeous, full-throated iris - I feel like I’ve been swallowed whole by one of those gigantor purple irises when I put it on.

5) Anticipation - CB Memory of Kindness. Tomato leaves and garden smell leapfrogs me right past spring into summer up to my elbows in ice cold tomato slices from my mom’s garden, covered in garlic salt and pepper - the tomatoes, not me. Well, the perfume doesn’t have the garlic salt and pepper, but it should!

For other Top Ten Spring lists, see Bois de Jasmin, Now Smell This, Perfume-Smellin’ Things, and Scentzilla.

It’s me, March, posting on Lee’s day. I know — it feels weird to me, too. But since Lee’s abandoned us taking a break from blogging, we’re rearranging the schedule slightly – I’m back to Mon/Weds., Patty’s Tues/Thurs, and Friday will be a mixed assortment of pleasures while we try various things out. This coming Friday is a group blogging effort on spring scents. Next Friday you all are evaluating Clinique Aromatics Elixir, Clinique Happy and Tommy Hilfiger Tommy Girl, as Patty discussed yesterday. Email your brief reviews of any/all of these scents to perfume dot posse at gmail dot com (using the appropriate symbols in place of “dot” and “at”). Maria also suggested another discussion of Perfumes: The Guide after more of you have had a chance to read it, and I think that’s a dandy idea. We’ll have some guest posters. If nothing else we’ll have the occasional Trashy Friday and off-topic posts. Stay tuned.

Okay, my report from the NYC Sniffa last weekend. I think it was Judith who said to me that she once met a woman who had done the Sniffa on a Saturday and run in a marathon Sunday. The woman said the Sniffa was more exhausting. Which helped explain how poleaxed I felt by 8 pm on Saturday. There were a lot of people (150ish) and – news flash – you stick 150 people in a room for sniffing, lunch, whatever, and it’s hot and noisy. I lost my voice by the time we got to the last event, just from strain from trying to talk over the din, and I still haven’t gotten it back.

My favorite part is pretty obvious – I loved meeting all the folks from the blog, including lurkers who’ve never posted but who came up and introduced themselves. I wore my rhinestone tiara in the morning, starting at breakfast, as promised for easy identification purposes. Of course, the great thing about NYC is you can run around in a tiara and nobody bats an eye. I met and hung out with so many wonderful people, including Divalano (who I will never call Divalino again!), Judith, Alyssa, Francesca, Carol, Kirsten, Chaya, old friends like Sarah, Mary, Louise and others, the Karens, some of the other fragrance bloggers … too many folks to name. I’m going to irritate all of you now by saying I think I’m not going to put the photos up. In all the chaos I am not confident I made it clear to everyone why I was taking pics, and I’m sensitive about people seeing themselves identified on here without their permission, particularly if they also feel the photo sucks. Not to put too fine a point on it. Picture a lot of sweaty, grinning, mildly crazed looking women (and a few men) crowded together sniffing their wrists. I close my eyes and remember and I can smell them from here.

I bought … nothing. I know, I know, defeating the whole economic point of the Sniffa, but oh, well. Wait, not quite true – Patty and I ended up splitting an Epices coffret from L’Artisan (I took Safran Troublant). I did my bit for the economy in other ways, though, and not naming any names, but some serious monies were spent by various gals on both scent and makeup, which is a big overlapping interest of many of the attendees. And a shout out to Kristen, email me where you got those shoes again?!? Maybe shoes aren’t boring after all…

There’s no way I can talk about everything I sniffed, so here’s what caught my attention, in no particular order –

Serge Lutens Bois de Violette has joined the exports at Bergdorf, and they handed it around, and maybe I hadn’t paid the right kind of attention before. It’s lovely – a warm, woody violet rather than the cool combo you often get. It’s simple and strange and wonderful. Chanel’s new Sycomore was just okay to me, not being a vetiver freak, but I think it was a huge hit for other folks. There was some serious spending over at Guerlain. Mona di Orio was there (Bergdorf has picked up her line) and can I just say how chic and charming and lovely she is? Another big surprise for me was the new Jo Malone Kohdo Wood Collection. JM mostly doesn’t do it for me, I don’t know why. It’s often too bitter, or dank, or something. And you can read their blurbage on the Kohdo Wood Collection but sniff-wise, don’t be looking for anything that makes you think of Japan. Lotus Blossom & Water Lily is the “day” scent and it’s a nice, pretty, inoffensive floral-aquatic, which (kill me now) maybe I’ll find myself liking in the summer, but maybe not. It’s fine. But the other one, the Dark Amber and Ginger Lily, was delicious – so delicious I threw caution to the wind and drenched myself in it. Notes are cardamom, pink pepper (of course!), ginger, jasmine, orchid, water lily, rose, black amber, white pepperwood, leather, patchouli, sandalwood, incense. It’s a creamy jasmine-amber with some spice, sensual and dark. Maybe it’s the spices and jasmine working for me, mitigating the boozy tendencies of amber that nauseate me. I couldn’t believe how much I liked this thing. Also I think it’s less than $100, which these days is, essentially, free. Finally, I tried Piguet Visa, which is a hoot. If you’re willing to get in touch with your inner Carmen Miranda, it’s got a big fat fruit note up front that somehow never manages to get overly sweet. Look, ma – you can make a fruity floral worth loving. It’s simple in a way that makes me suspicious that it’s much more complicated in structure than I’m appreciating. I feel like it’s having me on a little, if that makes sense, but it’s so clever I’m happy to play along. I wish the drydown lasted a bit longer, but maybe my nose just gave out.

I got a chance to sniff the five Thierry Mugler Miroir thingies at Saks, and to me the most compelling thing about them is the mirrored box each one comes in ($150 for 1.7oz) I have seen zero attention paid to them, have you tried any? I thought I’d like Envies with its nutty note, but no – too fresh. Secrets is a sour aldehyde-patch combo. Vanites is licorice-citrus and not me at all. Travers is allegedly tuberose but all I got was the woody masculine accord. Dis-Moi is waaay more popular than the others according to the hot-looking but extremely poorly trained SA there, who could not name a single note of any of them. All five got 3 or 4 stars from LT/TS, so they’re getting more out of them than I am. I also got a quick sniff of the new Lancome in La Collection, Peut-Etre (they had a small tester but not the bottles yet) which is French for “I have no idea but it smells like a light, somewhat powdery summer floral.” I’ll take Sikkim (or Magie), thanks… oh, wait, here’s a link to Lancome’s goofy blurb on this scent, which means “perhaps.” Here, let me quote: “She hears footsteps, opens her eyes and looks into his. She sees a new and special intensity in his gaze. And is something hidden in his hand? The moment is electric.” Snerk. Roses, lilac, iris, jasmine. Hey, has anyone noticed most of La Collection is disappearing from the website? They kept Climat and Roses, and all the rest are … gone.

The new D&G The One for men? A standard-issue inoffensive, warm, woody number I couldn’t pick out of a lineup. (I rather like the women’s.) And after its glowing review in The Guide, I retried Narciso Rodriguez again, and … nope. I still can’t smell it. Cannot smell a thing. A little alcohol, maybe. So remember that the next time you disagree with one of my reviews. Think to yourself, but this is from the gal who can’t even smell Narciso.

Mugler Miroir fragrances: lexpress.fr

I wrote this post before I left for the NYC Sniffapalooza, given the rigors of the schedule and my travel.