I promise there will be perfume in here – but not just yet.    Here are a couple of  mindless musings:

Due to an unfortunate incident on Hwy 6, involving a 40- foot manlift, a foolish old man in a minivan and my own deeply insane self, Mistress March and El O have decreed suggested that I should no longer watch Criminal Minds!  Waaaah!  Where will I feed my Paranoid Warrior side?  How am I going to scare myself to flinders?  Fine. My time is now free to consider other things such as:

Am I the last dog over the William and Kate Wedding hill?  Didn’t they just get engaged yesterday afternoon?  Where was I when all this was happening?  I must be too old to have them on my radar.  I remember buying my first color TV the day before Diana married Charles.  Got up at o’dark-thirty to watch the wedding.   Totally silly dress – but she was charming and became a lovely and gracious princess, who seemed to have such love for her sons.  I don’t know much about William and that’s  a good thing, right?   I wish them every happiness.

Flora was right. You can have anything you don’t want anymore.  Case in point:  Mallomars.  Every Year.  Want ‘em.  Got ‘em.  SixBeautifulSix boxes in the freezer.  Meh. (no, you can’t have them!)  I’ll fall in love again, come June.

Armand Assante.  It’s just ridiculous.  He’s only getting sexier and hottier. He’s the Helen Mirren of (male) Actors – we’re talking  age/hot-quotient here, not talent.

Okay!  On to perfume.   Folks are always surprised that I love soft Spring scents.  Hey, knife-wielding psychos can like The Pretty, too, y’know.   Now that I can smell iris I am falling head over heels with all sorts of variations on the theme, from chilly 28 La Pausa to the rooty-carroty Xerjoff Irisss (s).  They match the mercurial April weather, going from a warm breath of air to a chilly blast of metallic, ozonic rain, in about the time it took me to type this sentence.  But none of them say iris ‘flower’  – a note  I hadn’t considered –I know I’m late to that party but it’s not like iris has been a big thing for me.  I couldn’t smell it, remember?  Then, some lovely, generous soul sent me a scrab of Donna Karan Iris.

It is Official.  I am hooked on The Pretty.   Robin reviewed it here and gets some interesting nuance.  I get a hit of rose and what smells like wisteria…then I get the iris (Robin got the iris first).   I sniffed it alongside one of those gorgeous sweet bearded purple irises and it doesn’t smell anything like that – what it smells like is what you’d expect an iris to smell like if you didn’t know what an iris actually smelled like. Donna Karan Iris is  a warm Spring day.  The pretty, MGM version.  Maybe with a chic hat.  There’s not one hint of aggression in this.  No broad shoulders or wire hangers.  I think I’m finally beginning to understand what the whole ‘buttery’ thing is about.  This has a tad of that carroty root thing in the middle, just enough to keep this from being zzzzzz-pretty and keeps it true to its name.  I could easily wear this whenever I wanted to enjoy being a girl..instead of a mace-wielding shrike – the Original mace, with the spikes – not the spray.  I do have my ‘pretty’ days, y’know…just not on Hwy 6, in the middle of a field.  Hey!  There could be psychos hiding in that minivan!

Available on the N-M website for $98/3.4oz.  I’ll be back in civ in a week or so, will see if it’s in-store.

by Nava

I think everybody knows what a sucker I am for Donna Karan Cashmere Mist, so of course I’m going to try every flanker of the scent, including the newest one, Liquid Nude. Big surprise; I love it. I’ve never been a fan of wearing Cashmere Mist in warm weather, even though it’s supposed to evoke the feeling of a “second skin”. Liquid Nude to me, is the perfect combination of orange blossom, with the tenacity of the original Cashmere Mist base, so it’s lighter and slightly fresher, but still manages to hang around without suffocating. It also passes the “aunt” test because the sample I’ve been wearing all week hasn’t raised any hackles or caused any headaches. It dries down with the same warm muskiness of the original, but the freshness of the orange blossom stays strong throughout. Dare I say, this might be the perfect orange blossom scent, since the warmer notes act as an anchor, preventing it from disappearing. I’ve always had that problem with orange blossom, but here, it hangs around and then some.

My discovery of Liquid Nude got me thinking about the concept of “nude” scents. That got me nostalgic for Bonne Bell Skin Musk and Alyssa Ashley Musk; also Body Time’s China Rain and that scent Dawn Spencer-Hurwitz did that was supposed to be an anti-perfume. March, help me out here, I know you know which one I’m talking about. Then Robin at Now Smell This posted yesterday about the latest Juliette Has a Gun fragrance, Not a Perfume, which is another one of those pure Ambrox scents (like Escentric Molecule 02), which I cannot smell. So, I’m wondering, why wear nude when you want to smell, well, nude?

For me, “nude” always meant musk. I don’t think of musk the same way other fragrance aficionados do. Unless we’re talking about the old barnyard monster, Muscs Koublai Khan, my favourite interpretation is more of a white musk that’s slightly floral, but that I must be able to smell. I cannot smell Narciso Rodriguez Musc for Her or any other type of Egyptian musk, but a clean smelling, slightly floral musk is something I can really get into now and again. I had a 1/4 oz. bottle of that DSH oil, but I cannot seem to locate it. Currently, I have one other “nude” in my collection, my bottle of Memoire Liquide Nudité Absolue, which I’m showing a lot of love to right now – it’s nude with a woody, slightly patchouli-tinged base that’s been mixing well with my Liquid Nude samples.

I was a bad girl last Saturday when I ventured over to the Murale store here in Toronto looking for June Jacobs sunblock (yes, they have June Jacobs!), which they did not carry, and instead walked out with a bottle of Nudité Intense, which I was even more shocked to find. This one is very close to the China Rain type floral musk that I love, and for $48.00, I thought, hey – practically free, right? These types of scents smell so right to me, that I just can’t get enough of them. Last year, my transitional fave was a spicy floral. This year, it’s clean musk. I’m waiting for just a bit more of a chill in the air before I break out my vial of Bruno Acampora Musk, which is almost as dirty as MKK, but not nearly as temperamental. Gee, now that I see it all on paper, I guess I am pretty well-stocked in the musk department.

It must be the onset of autumn, and spending time with my family during the Jewish holidays that has me nostalgic for these types of scents. After last week’s matzo ball and brisket extravaganza, I was once again feeling very blessed to be here in my favourite city, with my wonderfully nutty family, plus my little freelance writing business that’s chugging along with a few belches of smoke now and again. Life in my little corner of the world is pretty not bad. Oh, and I did manage to finagle payment out of my pain-in-the-rear-end client. Crisis averted; until next time.

For all of you who giggled and guffawed through the tale of my cousin Jessica’s colonoscopy two weeks ago, her results were clean as a whistle.

Now for some sharing: Tell me your favourite “clean” musky type scents.

Disclosure: Samples of Donna Karan Cashmere Mist Liquid Nude were obtained at The Bay. Memoire Liquide Nudité Absolue and Nudité Intense are from my personal collection.

By March

When I was test-driving the new-ish Donna Karan Iris last week, I kept thinking about Serge Lutens’ Iris Silver Mist.  According to legend, when Maurice Roucel was creating ISM, Lutens kept nagging him for more iris, more iris until Roucel threw up his hands and put in every single iris-smelling thing he could think of.  (This story is told more elegantly by Luca Turin in The Guide.)  The result is a must-try, a masterpiece of iris.  It’s the Queen of iris.  It’s the Marilyn Monroe, Taj Majal, and Rolls Royce of iris.  It’s also the Godzilla and the Burj Dubai of iris – it’s not just iconic, it’s huge.

If Lutens kept saying more, more, more, then Donna Karan must have been saying less, less, less. Donna Karan Iris is iris primarily in the sense that it’s not violet or rose.  It’s a shy, wan wisp of a thing, a lil’ rooty and a lil’ powdery, but if it weren’t called iris I think it might scent a nice Caswell & Massey handsoap with images of violet and marzipan.  It bored me to tears.  The result was that I spent the next three days wearing Guerlain Chamade, so it all worked out fine in the end.

Robin at Now Smell This, master of the polite, dignified review, says the Donna Karan Iris “has a minimalist feel, and is more transparent than not: you’d be hard-pressed to over apply.”  Ain’t that the truth, R.  I’m not opposed to understated, office-friendly fragrances:  as I’ve mentioned before, Prada Infusion d’Iris is hugely popular among office worker bees in our area, I smell it all the time on the streets and in the subway.  I like Infusion d’Iris, and if I ever run out of all my samples I’m buying a bottle.  But my larger point is that Infusion d’Iris manages to be distinctive.  Donna Karan Iris, assuming I could even smell it while standing beside someone wearing it, smells sadly generic.  It doesn’t add anything – not even something fun and insubstantial, a giggle or a whisper – to the ongoing conversation of perfume.

If I met a budding perfumista who was interested in iris, I would say, at some point you need to smell Lutens’ Iris Silver Mist.  If that perfumista were interested in incense, I’ve no doubt I’d mention the Armani Prive Bois d’Encens.  I adore incense frags, it’s one of those notes I can never get enough of.  But if backed into a corner, I’d have to name BdE first, although it’s not necessarily my favorite.  But it’s incense as high art – and devoid of the churchiness of, say, CdG Avignon (which I adore.)  I’d like to quote the entire Luca Turin review, which is both funny and insightful, right here, but instead I’ll grab the last line:  “If you can afford Bois d’Encens, buy it: there is nothing else like it.”

So now I reach out to you, commenters and lurkers alike!  Newbies read the blog all the time.  If you were chatting with a friend who had a general fondness for perfume, and s/he asked for a recommendation for a single (yes, I’m going to make you choose just one!) fragrance featuring a particular note or accord of interest (rose, woody, tea, citrus, whatever), which one would you recommend to sniff, and why?  As I’ve already noted, it wouldn’t necessarily be your favorite fragrance featuring that particular note, but the one where you’d say, well, if you’re going to explore lily of the valley in a fragrance, you’ve really got to smell Diorissimo.  (In vintage, sadly, or so I have been told.)  I’d love a list here in comments of what you think the greats are.  Also feel free to argue with each other, as long as you do it with reasonable politeness.

image: iris, flickr.com, some rights reserved

March

There’s good news – if you read on a bit, this is an actual perfume review!

I signed up for a month of yoga at this studio I’ve been test-driving, after going five times in a ten-day unlimited-class special I purchased on a whim.  I don’t want to jinx it but I think it’s a really good fit for me.  The studio’s clean, close, the schedule will (I think) work when the kids go back to school, and it’s an open/flow structure.  Which means that I’m neither in way over my head nor stuck in a class where we move at a snail’s pace while we are talked through each detail. (I’m over-analytical enough already, thanks.)   The room’s a perfect 90 degrees (32C), which helps me and everyone around me bust a sweaty move without (I hope) the rosacea-aggravation and migraines that dogged me in the 105F+ (41C) of Bikram, as much as I loved it in other ways.  Finally, I alternate between a tall, serene Korean instructor who delivers a meditative, slo-mo yogic asskicking — you know, where down-dog is the rest position — and a short, gruff American gal maybe in her 60s, who manages to constantly help/correct/adjust those of us who suck are beginners in our practice without making it feel like nagging.

So there’s my backdrop for Pure DKNY, rolled out in every fashion magazine I read this month, with Angela Lindvall in a white dress, the essence of purity, against one of those whitewash backgrounds.  The photo’s interesting because it’s actually suggestive of an urban aesthetic – the top of a white-painted old-style radiator to the left, paneling to the right (she’s sitting on a windowsill).  It’s a big  office/apartment windowsill, and in the background is what looks to me like a high-rise, blurred almost into abstraction in the magazine ads.  There’s a glass of water to her immediate left.  All of this is signaling that she’s either kicking back in her white-washed urban living space, or maybe this is the floaty cover-up she wears to the yoga studio.    Do you want to find peace and serenity in your stressful urban environment, like this (expensively groomed, faux-natural blonde-highlighted) avatar?  Well, Pure DKNY is your mantra.

“A drop of vanilla sourced from Africa, a drop of goodwill.   Pure DKNY supports local communities by taking small steps to help make a difference.”  Go to their website and you’ll learn that the vanilla in question comes from Uganda and this is some sort of partnership with CARE to support women in a fight against global poverty, although if you can find any firm financial details you’re a better reader than I am.  The box is environmentally friendly and recyclable and (as you can see from the image) very clean-looking in an understated way.  Notes are Ugandan vanilla, dewdrop, floral petals, lotus, Bulgarian rose, jasmine, freesia, orchid, white amber, sandalwood and vanilla in water.  It is “a soft floral scent with a signature vanilla accord,” according to the ad.

That list might predispose you to think this is a heavier floral – maybe something along the lines of DK Cashmere Mist – but you’d be wrong.  Mostly what it is is fresh.  Not fresh laundry, or fresh linen.  No, it is the kind of fresh that torments yours truly (and Robin at Now Smell This, apparently.)   I never quite understand what’s happening to the smell as it renders itself in my brain, but this … note?  aromachemical molecule? –  is the antithesis of fresh, in that it smells to me mostly like that peculiar, sour note of sweat in synthetic garments.  It’s the smell of a basket of sour laundry, the UnderArmour shirt or the $6 black Target polyester that you throw on after spin class, with a focus on the armpit area.    I can smell the vanilla, soft and not overly sweet, against a background of attenuated, indistinct watercolor florals whose purpose seems to be to prevent this from being a gourmand.   Absent the pick-axe edge of the FRESH pounding into me, I’d describe it as a wallpaper scent.  I might have guessed a light summer scent from JLo, marketed as more “sophisticated” for the “mature” audience over the age of 25.

I’ll take another deep, cleansing breath and point out that, vague assertions of charitable aspirations aside, there are plenty of actual “natural” perfumes out there if that’s the way you want to swing.  I respect the idea of natural perfumery just as much as I respect the concept of people who want to, say, construct or clean their houses with a minimum of potentially toxic compounds.  There are great blogs about natural perfumes and related products – let me provide a link to Scent Hive – with plenty of diverse perfume styles.  Natural perfumery does not provide me with everything I want in a fragrance, and it’s susceptible to fraud – if the perfumers aren’t sourcing everything themselves, for instance, they have to trust their suppliers.  Beyond that, the more the merrier, and if we could not turn this post into the merits of natural vs. synthetic in comments I would be grateful.

Why did I bring this up?  Because to me, and I believe to the casual magazine-reading consumer, one might take away the impression from all this “pure” imagery that Pure DKNY is in some way better for the environment, or more “natural,” or less toxic for the wearer.  You know … pure.  Says so right there on the label — or it would, if the bottle weren’t blank in the top advertisement (you can see the name on the bottle at left).  But there’s nothing here to support the idea that Pure DKNY is any safer or more natural than Mitsouko or Gucci Rush.  Instead we’re offered an aesthetic, a sham purification ritual, that troubles me on some level.  There’s nothing pure about Pure, other than the level of b.s. in the marketing of it.  I bet there are women right now spraying this scent on before their yoga class, and if I wind up next to one of them while I work on my down-dog, I’m going to be pissed.

What did I wear to yoga this morning?  The very faint remnants of the majmua attar, which I could smell only because the room was hot, and only with my face inches from my wrists.  (I’m a big fan of fellow exercisers using deodorants, which are often scented, so I’m not going to issue a no-frag policy for exercise, but nobody should be wafting scent.)

Donna Karan has created some of my favorite scents – and some of the most intense.  Black Cashmere, Chaos, Gold, Fuel and even the original DK robo-duck are all things of startling beauty, no wallflowers among them.  I’m also a fan of the Essences, although I thought they were wildly overpriced (I think the newest reissues are priced lower.)  I’m not a fan of Cashmere Mist but I think it’s a nice enough scent, and in exchange for all that I’m willing to overlook the Be Delicious franchise and its endless spawn, along with their summer-fluff and duty-free releases.  I find myself strangely disheartened by Pure – it feels cynical to me, gimmicky, capitalizing on an Eat/Pray/Love level of self-regard in a way that seems even more dishonest because it implies a kind of purity which Pure doesn’t have.

Now, I’d like to end on a happier note.   WITHOUT DEVOLVING INTO A FLAME WAR, THANKS – I welcome suggestions from readers regarding particular scents they’ve enjoyed from houses that purport to be natural or botanical (can we phrase it that way?).  Off the top of my head, I’ve enjoyed L’Artisan Jatamansi, which I think is “botanical” and smells like a very expensive spa to me, as well as Strange Invisible Perfumes and Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (search for “natural” in the product search box).  And of course I’ll mention the attars again, from Tigerflag and White Lotus.

source: private sample

March

I´ve decided to steal one of March´s Maxims from earlier this week; she may be self-published, but was there any mention of a trademark or copyright? Seriously, I don´t think she´s going to mind.

I, too, have decided to focus on my existing collection, rather than always seeking out the new. There are a lot of neglected scents in my stash and they are deserving of some attention. As Jerry said to Elaine in the “Dinner Party” episode from season 5 of “Seinfeld”, “Look to the cookie.” I can´t remember the last time I had a black and white cookie, but the harmonious commingling of light and dark is certainly an axiom applicable to many things. Cookies, fragrance, life…what else is there?

I´m starting off with Donna Karan´s Cashmere Mist Eau de Parfum. Many of you know I am always at the ready to sing the praises of Chaos, even though it is a reformulation; I adore it utterly.  In fact, I enjoy all the scents from Donna Karan´s signature collection, especially this time of year, because they are warm, comforting and subtle. Unlike her DKNY collection of Delicious fruity-floral bombs, her eponymous scents are something altogether different.  I refuse to classify them as scents for the more mature, sophisticated woman, nor do I think they are akin to literally wrapping yourself in cashmere – I´m not a big fan of cashmere anything, except Cashmere Mist.  Instead, they are more like old friends: the fragrance equivalent of being comfortable in your own skin, by yourself and with others. You don´t feel the need to put up a faà§ade or act in such a way that you become unrecognizable. Cashmere Mist doesn´t pull any punches; it´s all about warmth and comfort and closeness. Not the closeness you feel with another person, but the closeness of being at peace with yourself. Mind you, this isn´t a 24/7 Zen state I´m talking about. Rather, it is about being true and honest and not hiding behind all the b.s. we tend to get caught up in. OK, I´m getting carried away, but you do know what I´m talking about, don’t you?

Cashmere Mist´s notes are Lily of the Valley, suede notes, bergamot, ylang ylang, jasmine Maroc, sandalwood, orris, amber, vanilla, cedarwood, patchouli and musk.  Even with the inclusion of florals and patchouli, the sum of these parts is not overtly floral, or overly patchouli-ish. What they amount to is warmth, comfort, peace. If you´re looking to disturb the peace, Cashmere Mist won´t do it. If you´re craving quiet, Cashmere Mist is all about understatement. And sometimes, that can be a good thing.

The version of Cashmere Mist I chose to write about is the eau de parfum. This was released a few years ago, and has much better staying power than the eau de toilette.  How it came to reside in my collection was through Fragrancenet.com, not long after it became available. I don´t remember how much I paid for the bottles I have (yes, I have 2!), but it was not the current $70.00 for 50 ml. In addition, I have a 200ml bottle of Cashmere Mist eau de toilette, a limited edition at Nordstrom from a couple of years ago, during their anniversary sale. It is still swaddled in the original cellophane. I know – I should be arrested by the nasty porn police.

There is also a new “Luxe” edition for sale, celebrating the 15^th anniversary of the scent´s introduction. I have yet to smell it, but I´m in no rush. The contentment I feel when I wear my Cashmere Mist cannot be surpassed. Well, maybe it can, but right now, I´m not interested. I do, however, have a mad hankering for a black and white cookie.  “Look to the cookie.” Therein lay all the answers.

Thanks to March for the inspiration for this essay.  I´m looking forward to reading your musings on your collection, as much as I am looking forward to contemplating my own.