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?

Item One: Sniffa attendees — you should all have gotten your email itineraries. I didn’t realize it was such a full schedule. What say we try to hook up during the two-hour cocktail deal Saturday night (6:30 - 8:30) at BlueMercury, assuming we haven’t met already? Everyone in the Posse wears a scarf or bandanna? How does that sound? I’m thinking about wearing a tiara. Too much?

Okay, today’s post. Maria sent me a package — with a typed letter, organizing her thoughts. I thought it would be fun sharing it with you.

“Dear March,

Here are a few things in various categories.

Some Scents You May Not Yet Know

Comptoir Sud Pacifique Thé EDP, discontinued several years ago. “Don’t worry about your blood sugar level! CSP used to produce some fragrances with character. Lapsang souchong is at the base of this strong scent. Warning: this is the most powerful sillage monster we own. Very hard to find, I understand.” March says: wow, that’s beautiful. I get a camphorous lapsang opening, then straight into a sweet-tea and other interesting bits (suede and musk?) This is reminding me of something, a men’s scent with tobacco? I can’t think of what and it’s driving me nuts.

Fendi Theorema (shimming body lotion) and Esprit d’Ete (EDT) – “Less complex and not as deep as our beloved Theorema, this summer version is a nice fragrance in its own right. Imagination Perfumery sells it for $16.99 while supplies last. The lotion puts down a subtle golden shimmer. I wonder if the plasticky quality of the scent comes from the tube it was packaged in.” March says: I see this online occasionally dirt cheap and never bought it. Smelling this summer version of Theorema I realized: Theorema ruined light, sweet orange blossom scents for me forever. The stunning beauty of Theorema’s dark, almost liquored, spicy candied orange peel has made almost every other orange scent seem pale and soapy. Here, let me list regular Theorema’s notes just so I can drool on my keyboard: nutmeg, pepper, orange, rosewood, rose, ylang-ylang, carnation, cinnamon, labdanum, patchouli, sandalwood, benzoin. There – are you drooling too? Anyway, I can’t find the notes for Esprit d’Ete, but it’s a much lighter, much less spicy, more linear orange scent — a good choice for someone who likes the slightly powdery, soapy floral sweetness of orange blossom rather than the sweet-tart acidity of the fruit. That regular Theorema body lotion, though – ugh. It smells like mildew to me.

Trussardi Jeans EDT “At first I liked this. Then I thought it was meh. I can’t decide.” March says: Wait … this is a men’s fragrance? It smells like heliotrope! Hang on … researching … oh, okay, this must be the women’s. Notes: green notes, fruits, almond, violet, tuberose, white lily, heliotrope, musk, vanilla and woods. I do think it’s pretty, a delicate powdery scent. It’s got a nice, light musk, and it’s a little bready, which I also like. Too much powder for my taste, but you powdery comfort-scent people might love this, and it’s a screaming deal online.

Scents I Cannot Hack and I’m Not Ashamed to Admit It

CB Musk Reinvention absolute “It asked me to send it to March.” March says: That’s because it knows it’s coming home to the Mother Ship. It can sit next to my own personal bottle of CB Musk Reinvention on the shelf, which I keep in its special airtight container designed to keep the XXXL skank from tainting everything around it. One of the very few scents I’ve seen people sniff and literally jerk their heads away from, like they’ve been bitten. Can I say I think it’s beautiful?

Ormonde Jayne Ormonde Woman “It will be more appreciated by you. I hate it violently.” Notes: Cardamom, coriander, grass oil, black hemlock, violet, jasmine absolute, vetiver, sandalwood, cedarwood, amber (and thank you Basenotes, I missed you!) March says: Wow. Oh, wow. Having tried this several times, I’d already typed a lead-in sentence about admiring OJ Woman’s masculine beauty while finding it unwearable – the only one of the OJ line I’ve not been able to love. Then I popped open the vial. You just never know, do you? Because all my murky Black Forest fears with this one, that primeval bit that creeps me out just enough that I can’t relax and enjoy it, seem to have vanished, replaced by something still dark but playful – a fairy tale involving an evil witch but with a happy ending. I still wouldn’t spray this thing on with abandon – on me it’s very strong, definitely a dabber. That resin/urine note which I’m guessing is hemlock can be (interestingly) modified by adding a dab of CB Black March, although it sounds a little sacrilegious to me, layering an OJ, frankly. It’s like touching up a masterpiece. I keep doing the first fifteen minutes over and over again, just for that rush of spicy violet. I wish the drydown were a tad sweeter, but nonetheless. I feel like I’ve finally gained admittance into some exclusive club.

Rochas Femme edp “I’m glad you like the reformulation more than I do.” March says: what, too much armpit? I have the vintage too, and it’s gorgeous, but a completely different scent, a woody chypre. The cumin in Femme was apparently added to try to achieve the same kind of shock level. I find the combination of cumin and the macerated peachy sweetness quite seductive.

Parfums de Nicolai Maharanih EDP “You’d think it would be my sort of thing. It isn’t.” March says: and I am surprised, because I would think it’s your sort of thing. I did a brief impression of Maharanih on my PdN post here, and can I say yet again what a woefully underappreciated line PdN is in my opinion, due in no small part to the fact that you almost never see them in a retail location? Clyde’s Pharmacy on Madison Ave. in NYC has some, but I have never seen them anywhere else outside the PdN store in London. Maharanih’s notes are orange essence and bitter orange peel, rose essence, carnation, cinnamon, patchouli, sandalwood, civet. Interestingly, this doesn’t even register to my nose as particularly orange-y – it’s a spicy pomander type of scent, unsweet, and that woody civet base combined with the florals is lovely. Some of the PdNs wear a bit sharp on me, but considering what an unusual flaw that is in current perfumery – not sweet enough! – I’m not going to complain about it. March the Maleficent decrees: everyone should love at least one PdN. I’m very fond of this and Balkis Light, which of course is impossible to find. Maria, I wonder if you like any of the others better? Have you tried Eau Exotique? New York? I know there are some PdN nuts on here!

Anyway, Maria, thanks very much for reminding me why I love perfume, and the people who love perfume.

cartridge wrappers: sullivanpress.com