Carons and Old Friends

Caron had to have a scent that is an all-out smoldering siren, and Narcisse Noir is the little vixen that fills that slot on the Caron line-up. Created by Ernest Daltroff in 1911, this was the perfume that really started the Caron brand and cache, even though it was not their first perfume. Now, be careful not to confuse the parfum with the EDT. I have both, and they are very different in feel. The Parfum is loaded with civet, and just oozes sensuality while also whispering about class. The EDT is more pretty and civilized, it just keeps the skank octane down to manageable levels. NN is a challenge to wear, and it has taken a while for me to really appreciate it, but every time I put it on, I am just bowled over by its beauty and how it perfectly balances what I think a woman becomes when she is done screwing around with the idea of who she should be or who other people think she is or should be. I could not have worn this when I was younger, nor would I have appreciated it, and I think I’ll appreciate it more every year that I grow older. The woman who wears this has a husky voice from a couple of years of drinking too much and smoking, a loud laugh, and likes to have men open doors for her. It is my scented friend that knows who I am even when I forget as I get buried in family, laundry, cleaning, bills, and work.

Notes of Persian black narcissus, orange blossom, bergamot, lemon, mandarin, petitgrain, rose, jasmine, jonquil and civet.

Notes of lilac, rose, violet, iris, vetiver, cedar, sandalwood, vanilla, amber, musk, oakmoss make up Caron’s N’Aimez Que Moi. I had reviewed this in the 12 Days of Violets last Christmas, and I believe it was one of my favorite violets. This is another one you shouldn’t get confused with Aimez Moi, which is the EDT and much sweeter. I don’t mind the EDT, but I prefer the urn parfum. It starts very flowery and what some people would call “Old Lady’ish.” Not sure why that is, maybe the violets always remind people of ancientness? Which is just goofy when you think about it. This is the perfume that really taught me to admire the violet’s strength. They certainly hold their own in a very strong composition, though the violets and rose blend together more than other straight-up violet concoctions, but in this, it is showcased. It is a violet surrounded by roses laying in a mossy forest. I mean, what’s not to love there? And I do. It always reminds me that no matter how delicate the flower may appear, with their shy heads and wilty ways, they are strong and resilient. You can get this from the Caron Boutique or snag a sample or decant from Diane at Dragonfly Scent me.

That’s me on the right with my two best friends in high school — wearing my Farrah hair and CPO jacket proudly. And what was with those jeans? I remember them being very popular that year since both Cindy and I had them on.

If anyone has been around this blog for a while, you know that I have been hunting forever to sniff Stephen B, the long-discontinued drugstore perfume I wore in high school. The lovely Miss March persisted longer than I did and found a little bottle on eBay. I’ve been sniffing this off and on for a couple of months, not really sure what I thought about it. When I first opened it, I was just taken back so many years, to my youth, when boys were toys to be played with and all of my life stretched out before me and I still wanted to “Die Before I Got Old.” I remembered it as being much more grown up and muskier than it actually is, but I surprisingly still like it, even though the scent itself is a little damaged in some of the notes. It’s not a true picture of the perfume, but close enough for my purposes — I can remember the rest. It makes me a little sad because I was right about drugstore scents from back then…they used to be great, and this one is far better, even with damaged notes, than any of the crap sold in drugstores or hawked by celebrities today.

What I’ve found out in my trip down scented memory lane — it was perfect for who I was then and actually makes sense of the things I like today. In smelling it, it’s like the little girl version of Narcisse Noir and N’aimez Que Moi — a little bit dark, but not scary dark; a little bit classy, but not so much that I can’t have fun and fly my teenage freak flag at least at half mast; a little sensuous, but not in that Really Bad Girl punchboard kind of way; and it is resilient without becoming bitter.