Patty’s still swanning around Costa Rica, so today Musette and March are doing a joint “she said/she said” post about D’Orsay Etiquette Bleue.
One of the conundrums in perfumista-ville is whether a classic “cologne” which might last 92 seconds on the skin (hey, it’s designed that way) is worth the simoleans involved. For example, if you’re looking at Guerlain, Sisley or Chanel colognes, for the same dough you could have a bottle of something stronger instead, right? Why not buy yourself 4711 or Jean Nate at Walgreens?
And that’s not an easy question to answer…
March says: I’d really like a bottle of that Guerlain Cologne du 68 stuff, but not enough to buy one. My other kinda-cologne-y things are the Annick Goutals like Sud and Hadrien, but then they stick around on me longer than a classic cologne does. I’m not going to do the math, but those ginormous bottles of the Chanel Cologne probably aren’t even that expensive if you figure it out per ml, so I guess I’ll leave them out of the equation.
Etiquette Bleue is (I think) a 2008 reformulation and re-release, and whatever the original smelled like, I have no idea. The new one is a pretty cologne-smell — notes are lemon, bergamot, orange, petitgrain, rosemary, orange blossom and a woody-mossy base. By the way, Etiquette Bleue and some of the scents in this post are EDTs and others are colognes; in theory the EDTs might be stronger and/or last better, but in reality that’s not a given. I’m using “cologne” as the citrus-herbal scent-descriptor in this post, not as a technical term.
I love me some 4711, and the D’Orsay is a definite step up from that, both in terms of complexity of the scent and longevity. It’s nicely herbal, unisex, less sweet than 4711, with a bright citrus and a mossy, musky base that feels more solid than cheaper things like 4711 and the Weil Eau Fraicheur (which is pretty fabbo, btw).
The D’Orsay is $100(ish) online for a 3.4, and so I asked myself: would I rather have 4711 or Weil plus the extra cash? Or a Guerlain Bee bottle of one of their classic colognes like their heavenly Eau, or perhaps du Coq or Cedrat? Or maybe a 2.5oz of the Chanel Exclusifs cologne? The answer is that I’d like all of them, which isn’t very helpful, is it? But since I already own Cedrat, a hefty decant of the Chanel, and a lifetime supply of 4711 (I keep my bottle in the fridge), unless the Guerlain fairies present me with a bottle of the Cologne du 68, I’m probably good. Actually… now I’m thinking about all that coriander, cardamom, pepper and ginger spiciness in the 68 and really wanting a bottle for summer. Dammit, Musette, this is your fault.
If anyone cares: I drenched myself in Etiquette Bleue and didn’t kill anyone around me, and I could still smell it (faintly) after several hours, and my girls loved it. It sticks around longer on hair and fabric than on skin.
Musette says:
Heck, don’t blame me, blame Carol. It’s CAROL! (not me) and her amazing range of perfumery-things. I got the D’Orsay from her!
Alas, my love for 4711 is inconstant – on really hot days the musk rears up way too early and makes me wish I’d just rubbed some lemons on my poitrine instead. But! it’s $19.99 at Loehmann’s so it’s perfect for those days I do love it, if that makes any sense. Guerlain’s Imperiale is my Holy Grail of Hot Summer Days – but I confess to having some qualms about spritzing early and spritzing often as colognes were designed to do. that’s what a hefty price tag’ll do to ya, unless you are hip-deep in simoleans.
Another beauty: I would wear Chanel’s Eau de Cologne every August evening if I had simoleans to throw around. But I don’t so I will make do with the 4711 and the lemons. As with the Chanel I do think the Etiquette Bleue is an exquisite interpretation of the classic cologne genre. It lasted quite awhile on me and the drydown was considerably more complex and interesting than I was anticipating. I consider very few colognes to be ‘pretty’ but this one is very pretty without going all girly or challening its Cologne Status. I could see a man wearing this well,too, way easier than the Chanel. If I had discretionary simoleans to throw down I would buy Etiquette Bleue in a nanosecond!
Update: I don’t think it lasts as long on me as it seems to have done on March; then again, this vicious sinus infection I am battling means I cannot smell much of anything – I burned a pizza this afternoon because my nose couldn’t register the burn-smell-until the smoke alarm went off! For all I know folks are lying, dazed and dying on the sidewalk from my sillage. But I don’t think so – this stuff is lovely and pretty subtle.
So..what are your thoughts on colognes, dear Posse? Are they worth the simoleans or when you think cologne, do you think that big ol’ drugstore bottle is the way to go? Do you care about longevity? Do you expect it to be proportionate to the price? Questions abound!
Today I threw caution to the wind and, for the first time in almost three months, went for a walk. I know some of you must be getting tired of me harping on my heel injury at this point, but I had no idea how much I would miss walking. I am a walker. I would rather take the stairs than the elevator. I would rather take the treadmill than the fitness class. I have a certain amount of nervous energy, and walking – fast or slow, day or dusk, alone or with a friend or kid(s) – soothes me. I walk to think, and the posts herein are often written at the end of a meander, where I ponder various ideas and rearrange the order of my perfumed thoughts in my head. Not being able to walk is not just driving me crazy, it is interfering with my writing.
Today while I was walking, I was pondering why the hell I had Annayake Pour Elle again on my left arm, and D’Orsay´s Femme de Dandy again on my right. I want to decide about them, and in (typical?) Gemini fashion I am unable to do so.
Annayake Pour Elle, with its notes of bergamot, fig, elemi, water lily, tea, cypress, and white musk, is … standoffish. It has a tendency toward dry bitterness. It draws attention to itself but does not invite. It feels like the Japanese version of Niki de St. Phalle, in terms of its arty, aloof vibe. It is interested in itself, less in the wearer. It is also peculiarly malleable, as if it cannot decide what it wants to be. At the opening, it is summer-fruity – but also incensey and very faintly urine-tinged – and I wonder if that is the elemi, which I have read described as sharp, piney and lemon-like. Then it wants to be woods but won´t drop the lily-tea, and is that anise creeping in? Also, peppered ink. In the drydown it makes me think (although does not remind me of) Comme des Garcons 2.
And then I turn back to Femme de Dandy, which as far as I am concerned I should be smitten with, and yet I am not. Why, why, why not? It´s supposed to include anise, cardamom, carrot flower, cinnamon, cloves, tobacco, rum, labdanum, benzoin, musk and tonka bean, and does that not sound scrumptious? It´s a soothing gourmand at its base, as opposed to the inexplicable first half hour, which is like being pelted with overripe fruits, and which makes me feel I must be missing some of the top notes in my list. Gah, is it this sweet on everyone? Admittedly, this is not the ideal weather, but still. Driving me slightly crazy is also the tenuous connection I feel between the two – Femme de Dandy in the far drydown reminds me slightly of my favorite bits of Annayake Tsukimi and Miyako, that wonderful benzoin-woody-incense base.
Finally, the issue causing my distress comes into focus: one of these fragrances (Pour Elle) is the sort of thing that would make you remark: your perfume smells good (or it doesn´t.) Femme de Dandy at the drydown is the sort of quasi-gourmand thing that invites a slightly different comment: you smell good. You, that is, as opposed to your perfume. Presumably, this is because Pour Elle is calling more attention to itself – but then again, that´s not quite true, is it? Certainly Femme de Dandy isn´t subtle. Must a you-smell-good scent reflect something you might eat, or something you´d naturally have in contact with your skin (laundry detergent), or even something that is associated with human smells (sweat, musk)? Where do you draw the line between the scent and the wearer?
According to something I read in the last couple of days, the smell of pizza and roasting meat are the quickest way to give men an erection. So, dab on some Domino´s (or some vintage Kolnisch Juchten). Or, instead, we can kick this around some more, since clearly I cannot resist. What is the difference between a fragrance that makes people say YOU smell good and one that elicits the comment, I like your perfume? It makes sense to me that men (taken as a stereotypical group) might like foody, comfort scents like chocolate and vanilla on their lovers, as opposed to … I don´t know, creosote, or formaldehyde. But if you wore CdG 2, or … pick some other strange thing, or some strong aldehydic fragrance, and that´s all you ever wore, would your lover(s) eventually associate that smell with you? With desire and arousal and sex? Probably, yes?
How much of our smell attraction is innate, and how much is learned? I wonder. I mean, I find Chanel No. 5 (while lovely) one of the least sexy scents in the world, but I bet five people read those words today and thought, she´s an idiot. They (and I) could turn around and argue, why on earth should something that smells like a cupcake be arousing? And hey, while I´m rambling, I wonder if there´s a cultural reference here? Do men in, say, Paris, like more perfume-y perfumes? Are they exposed to them more? (No. 5 – oui!) Where here they´ve been trained by girls wearing Angel and Jessica Simpson´s Dessert line and Aquolina Pink Sugar to think sweet is sexy?
Do I smell good? Do you? Speaking for myself, if I took an on-the-street survey like the ones in Cosmo or Elle, I´d guess that more often than not the answer would be a resounding NO. Maybe nobody but me is digging my Memory of Kindness, redolent of tomato leaf. Maybe lapsed Catholics everywhere wonder at the strange whiffs of incense they get wafting off fragrance freaks on some random Tuesday in August on the subway. I have been the secret source of more than one person in the bank queue stealing a peek at his shoe, wondering if he stepped in something. I don´t spend much time smelling like Betty Crocker, and a little too much time smelling like a leather glove at a bonfire, and I guess that´s just the way it is.
Putting the question out to the five of you who aren’t at the beach this week: what is the difference between a fragrance that makes you smell good, and one that would garner comments along the lines of your perfume smells great! Is there a difference?
50s card: gizmoandwidget.com
March
