Pairs Hitch, Britt IA

By Anita

Summer. Summersummersummer.

You know what’s weird about summer?  It’s a horse of a totally different color, depending upon where you are and who you are (or used to be).  I spent the last 50o years of my life in an Urban environment and my summer fragrances reflected that.  When I think about Agraria Bitter Orange I think of this restaurant on Irving Place in NYC – I only went there in the summer and always sat outside for brunch …..and my beloved Cartier Brillante is definitely meant for hot pavement, a linen sheath and a cold vodka tonic.  I had no idea it would not translate to rolling cornfields and draft horses (who HATE that scent, btw – it makes them sneeze, the prima donnas)….so I  had to rethink summer to please my Percherons  (besides, March wouldn’t let me yark on about my regular faves anymore.  She is SO bossy!).  The more I thought about it, though, the more it makes sense – summer in the  Urbs is way different from summer in the country  – out here Summer isn’t something to be wrestled with – it just is.  And out here you’re not trying to squeeze your swollen feet into those Manolo sandals and I certainly cannot wear that crisp white linen sheath with steel-toe boots, corn dust and horse snot and…well, it’s just different.  Take  my displaced word for it.   Not better, not worse – just different.  So the two I’ve chosen reflect my new life amongst the cows and the corn.

Here are our two scents. What are yours?? (unlike us, you are not limited to 2 each – whale away!)

Based on the epic Country FAIL of Brillante and my regular standbys I caved to March’s demand that  I TRY SOMETHING NEW .

Here’s new.  And Weird.   Tribute Attar for the Hog Roast at the nursing home – beautiful app but I noticed it was seriously ‘ashy’ on the drydown – very offputting to the average smeller out here in the sticks, though I  was smitten – like dried rose petals thrown on a coal fire.   Anyway, I knew that wouldn’t work at the Hog Roast so I took a chance and layered it with

Rosine’s Poussiere de Rosine - since it’s got that dusty-musty smell itself, it worked beautifully.  Very oily/dusty/rosy, heady as a bottle of jammy Cabernet.

March, this would peel the skin off your nose.  Imagine ‘rose slurry’.    Bwahahahahaha!

Oddly, this was a hit with young and old alike.  The Rosine diluted Tribute’s scary elegance (and c’mon – do I really want ‘elegant’ at a Hog Roast?) And the ashy  dryness in both the Tribute and the PdR is a nice complement to the humidity.  My huge, fussy Percherons like it, too!  This might be a little ‘close’ in the City but it works really well in a slurry blender feed screw – the dusty rose and dusty corn, ya know?

But it was nothing compared to this next one:

There are perfumes that are born great….and then there are perfumes that have greatness thrust upon them.  Still adhering to March’s edict, I decided to try something I  originally dissed because I found it at a flea market for a dime:  Coty Sand and Sable (two bottles:  20 cents.  Booo-yah!)  It’s not my idea of fabulous – there isn’t an elegant note in the whole thing – but again, not everything has to be elegant – and this is  Summer in a bottle, glistening sun-baked skin, hot sand, station wagons, transistor radios – the whole shebang.  Summer 1961.  We all have a crush on the 8th grader down the street, we ride our bikes to the local pool and mom is in pedal-pushers,  puffin’ on a Chesterfield.   Spritz it and everyone within 2 blocks will be on you  like a duck on a junebug.   19 year old Breck Girl and the world is your oyster.      The musky base sort of ooked up my lunch but that’s okay.  I had Brian Wilson warbling  in my poitrine -  I could hardly be petty about that little musky bit, could I?   I’ll let you know what my big boys think.

March: Hee on the Sand & Sable, Anita!  Nope, nothing elegant in there at all, and you wouldn’t want to spill the bottle in your car, but to me it smells like my misspent youth of the late 1970s — summer at the beach, with notes of tropical oil, cotton candy, and climbing into the backseat of some boy’s Camaro, so we could … discuss Proust.

It’s been a gazillion degrees here for much of the summer — we’re in the middle of another 98-degree heatwave and I’m making gazpacho.   I’m still very much enjoying fiddling with all the Tigerflag attars, although the Majmua’s the one I’ve been wearing, with its moist notes of earth and flowers.  I realized, though, that I’ve been missing the beeswax-y smell of the beeswax base that Marla built it into before she sent it to me, and I haven’t gotten around to trying to make my own beeswax base, so I looked around on my shelves for something beeswaxy and came up with … Serge Lutens’ death-eater honey, Miel de Bois, which is something I also love wearing in this heat.   You can see where this is headed, right?  I mean, what could possibly go wrong?  So I mixed up a small vial containing mostly jojoba oil, a few drops of majmua, and a few drops of MdB, at which point the foundations of the house rumbled — oh, wait, that was only the earthquake.  Anyway, I dabbed it on (I’m talking a dab), went downstairs, and I was still fifteen feet down the hall from my daughter when she asked what perfume I was wearing.  Too much sillage?   She demanded a closer sniff and said, it smells like six things at the same time!  It keeps changing!  That’s so cool! She’s the kid who likes that uber-musky honey thing that MAC did, though, so YMMV.  I admit that just putting MdB on often feels like I’ve committed a crime, albeit a misdemeanor.  Layering it is probably a more serious offense.  Today I might throw in some Nuit de Tubereuse on top.  Do you think my nose will fall off?

Lee: Glad to see both March and Anita know how to wave their freak flags just the right amount to stay cool. My stay cool on the ladyboy side scent is – well, it’s either Nicolai’s Eau Exotique which is fruity and a little floral and elegantly simple, or Hermes Osmanthe Yunnan which gets more refreshing oolong and petals every time I wear it. Other times, the temps have dropped here a little so I no longer cling to salty for electrolytic rebalancing. Instead, it’s Timbuktu all the way. That sour flowerpower patchouli incense mashup is perfect right now. And anyways, no perfume can compete with the goddamn amazing regal lilies and heliotrope and jasmine in the garden as I type. I’m heading back out there.

Nava: Ok, since Anita’s busy “yarking” about horses and wearing attars in the height of summer and March insists on dragging out Miel de Bois in July (oy, a thousand times!), I’m sitting next to Lee and his Osmanthe Yunnan. Personally, I prefer Parfum d’ Empire’s Osmanthus Interdite, but Osmanthe Yunnan is always first runner-up in my book. I won’t repeat the three I mentioned on Friday, but the other I’d like to add is Givenchy’s new Eaudemoiselle. I tried like hell not to buy a bottle of it, but I succumbed. It’s a bit heavy right now, but inside with the a/c crankin’, it’s goooood.

Patty: I’m a little horrified at the Sand & Sables, except it is pretty great for something that people will hand to you in vats on the street.  A little like J. Lo’s Glow, perfect for summertime.  My summer faves are a couple of things I ran into while I was gone, like the Nasomatto Nuda - the perfect big-ass white floral skanky jasmine scent.  It opens as poopy jasmine (Nancy taught us this term while in Grasse), then slowly settles down into the more honeysuckle jasmine that you can wear for a much  longer period of time.  I could happily wear this the rest of summer.  I’d just intersperse it with the Micallef Shanaan – the perfect breathy incense – and Byredo Tulipe (yes, yes, I’m still ridiculously in love with it) and L’Artisan Nuit de Tuberose.  Wait, I’m over two, but those last three count as one!

For more Top Ten Summer posts, check out Now Smell This, Grain de Musc, Perfume-Smellin’ Things and Bois de Jasmin

Lately, it’s all I can do to keep my laptop from melting, between the heat and the constant use, but the one thing I have on ice right now are those Humiecki and Graef samples I’ve been meaning to review. I still haven’t had the opportunity to give them more than a cursory sniff, and I really want to do them justice.

While I hear the east coast of the US is definitely getting walloped with the heat (would you people prefer MORE snow?), it’s pretty steamy here as well. I’ve got a limited rotation of scents in use that, at this point, I’m barely tolerating. They are Dior’s Escale à Portofino, Hermessence Rose Ikebana, and Prada Infusion d’Iris. There are worse trios out there (The Jonas Brothers, anyone?), so considering the climate, I don’t think I’m doing too badly.

The surprising element to all three of my choices is that they’re hanging around pretty impressively. In the past, all three never ceased to amaze me with their lack of tenacity, but now, they hang on for dear life. Here I sit, almost 9 hours after blasting myself with Infusion, and I’m still rockin’ it. Same with Rose and Escale of late; what gives? I could make a fried egg for dinner using the grease on my face – that’s to be expected, but these three hanging around? Never woulda thought it was possible. I’m almost tempted to re-test Brin de Reglisse, since the last time I tried it, it was gone in 60 seconds.

I hate to cut things short today, but work is calling. Actually, “work” is a pleasant euphemism for my pain-in-the-ass colleague who tortures me all day long via Yahoo Messenger. A copy writer’s work is never done, as I am quickly learning. But, really, it’s a labour of love. Don’t let all my kvetching fool you.

Disclosure: That is Lily, my cat, and those are my bottles.

Sorry this is late – I’m still getting the hang of things.

<sigh>  Lord, I love a fruit.  I do.    I have run through nearly every lemon, lemon/lime concoction out there  and  I was Jo´s  Grapefruit gal back when you could only get it in London and her husband would take orders over the phone. The whole reason I´m even on the Posse is a tortuous journey. a quest for my high school love, Bigarade by Nina Ricci ( I got it and, uh….well, okay – what was all that about?).  So I know my fruit.  And fruit is funny.  Lemon can so quickly turn to furniture polish and while I usually  luck out on that drama I can still get smacked in the head by too much sugar or the Evil Musk Drydown indigenous to so many Lemons.  Grapefruit can be beautiful (helloo, Pamplemousse Rose, you weasel) or scorch your nose hairs (sorry, Jo).

However nothing incites as much polarity in my fruit-lovin´ self as orange (my love for Agraria Bitter Orange is legendary).   But bitter orange can go so razory it makes your teeth hurt, like my one night stand, Bigarade Concentree.  I swear I loved you,BC.  I did.  But you sunk your fangs in the  pith and green rind and it was a  Sad, Sad Day in Orangeville.

So I was excited when I literally stumbled (as in, I tripped and sent the bottles flying) across the Atelier Cologne Orange Sanguine at Neiman Marcus.  Notes from the N-M site:

Cologne Absolue concentrated at 15%.
Top notes: blood orange, bitter orange
Heart notes: jasmine, geranium from South Africa
Base notes: amber woods, tonka beans, sandalwood

Well, alrighty then.  If there´s jasmine or tonka bean in there it has been stuffed in the back of Orange´s gym locker.  Orange isn´t goofing around here, trust me.  And she´s gonna be on the playground for awhile.   You would think orange´ + cologne´ would mean gone in 20 seconds.  Uh, no.  I was  surprised to find this bad girl with her claws still in nearly 3 hours after application.  Very exciting!

Too bad I can´t stand the stuff.

Turns out that for all my fruit lovin´, it seems  I love the idea´ of fruit better, at least with orange.  Most of the orange scents I adore whisper in the ear of an orange, while veiling themselves in other, complimentary, notes.  Orange Sanguine is like you just spilled orange juice all over the kitchen (and in your shoooes!), the ants are coming out of the woodwork, you´re late for a meeting (so you’re stuck with – and in- the shoes).  It´s sticky-schweeeet.  And very orange.    I´m thinking it might take the pith out of that Bigarade, if it doesn´t kill it outright. My money’s on the new girl.

So the Orange Sanguine was a sticky mess.  This did not bode well for the new Marc Jacobs splashes with all the fruit and cookies and everything.  I´ve never been a huge Marc Jacobs fan, beyond his handbags but he did an excellent Lemon and hey!  I was right there so…what the heck.  Nerves shot from the orange juice and the ants  I squinted at this year’s splashes from the corner of my eye  – he has Apple, Pomegranate and Biscotti (apparently the Biscotti is a reissue). Well, I don’t want to smell like a cookie so I passed Biscotti by and, liver aquiver, gingerly approached  the Apple.  “Oh, crap.  Apple?  This is gonna smell like a county fair, I just know it”

Waitaminit! This is what I´m talkin´ about! This is not about smelling like an apple.   This smells nothing like an apple.  It smells like the ideal of an apple – a crisp, juicy, tart Granny Smith, all freshness and springlike and full of zesty life.   I was stunned at how much I liked it.  According to Nordstrom´s site this year´s offerings are supposedly ” inspired by the decadent indulgences of a patisserie” .  Well, maybe if the patisserie just put a dewy, chilled bowl of Granny Smiths on a sidewalk table.  And that sounds just fine by me.   I don´t know how it will play in intense heat but it´s a perfect  late-May Saturday morning scent, maybe with that first sleeveless dress of the season?

Sources:  Atelier Cologne – Neiman-Marcus (all over the) counter ; Marc Jacobs Apple Splash – Nordstrom counter

(update:  Bigarade Concentree + Orange Sanguine = YUM! perhaps, like its juicy namesake, it’s the perfect mixer)

(Okay, peeps — for the next couple of weeks we may be messing with the usual posting order.   Today is Musette.)

I got a visit from the Life Police a little while ago.  They gave me a ticket!!! and told me to shut down my Pity Party, it was going on too long, it was too loud and the neighbors were starting to complain.  I was indignant!  I loved hosting that party!  But a warning ticket from the Life Police ain’t no joke so I decided to comply.  But where to start?

Well, insides are harder than outsides so I started with the outside.   OMG! 2 sizes bigger? when did THAT happen?!?   My haiiiiiir! !!!!  what’s with the nails – are you reroofing the Vatican with your bare hands?  2 SIZES BIGGER?  WTH?   WHY ARE YOU IN SWEATS?  YOU ARE NOT AT THE GYM! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN SWEATS???

Okay You (well, ‘me’) -  First Thing:  get your lard-butt up and get to the gym, every day.  I live in the smallest town in the Universe.  We are blessed with a little gym 2 blocks from my house (everything is two blocks from my house).  Nobody’s there and they have HGTV and What Not to Wear.  No excuses!  Then my existential walk through our hilly cemetery every day (get healthy!/ why bother?)…  2 blocks from my house.  No excuses.

Man.  This is hard.  I’m so used to sitting on my lard-butt, eating a brownie and bemoaning my fate.  But I’m slogging through it.

…and slowwwwly…the poundages are slippering off.  And hey!  Nails?  They’re actually ‘done’.  And the hair – well, I’ve still got to go to a Big City for that (some things just …well, you know - it’s my hair!).

And while I’m in this improvement mode I’m noticing that my perfume choices have changed – are being assigned certain values.  Perhaps I’m every bit as insane as y’all think I am but I swear there are perfumes that make me smell fat! And some that sort of help on the thinnin’ side of things.  This came to me whilst reading Shelley’s blog post on comfort scents, where she broke things down by variations on comfort (snuggly/armored/etc) – so while I was working the elliptical I compiled my Thick/Thin lists.  This is in relation to myself alone – these scents do not conjure up any size imagery when worn by others so don’t get all bitey with me, okay? As they say, YMMV.

The List (for now)

I feel thinner already (at the gym):

Bel Respiro

No 19 edt, screaming at me to WORK IT!

Cemetery daytime

Mitsouko

Cemetery nighttime

I don’t think so.   that’s when the zombies come out!

I feel a cupcake coming on!

Fracas

Lys Mediteranee

Whoa!  my bra size is WHAT?

Femme

C-cup, bay-bee!  C-cup!

vintage Femme

3am. I’m fat! Panic attack.

Going for a walk, just me and the coyotes.  Take a stick and:

Jacomo Silences

L’eau Imperiale (Guerlain)

Y’know, I’m looking pretty good!:

Doblis

vintage Diorling

I give up – I’m a mess

Ines de la Fressange (leaf bottle)

L’eau d’Hiver

Oh, shut up.  I’m doing fine!

TdC Charmes et Feuilles

Size 10 = a trip to Paris

Cartier Brillante

it will be interesting to see where these fall, once I reach my size goal, but for now they are defining my highs and lows as I struggle through this.  Do you all have particular scents that represent certain aspects of your life struggles? (weight is not the criterion here)  Would love to hear about them.  I’ll holla back when I get home from the cemetery – gotta beat the zombies!

Hey, fragrant friends — here’s a link to an interesting review by Chandler Burr of Hermes Un Jardin Apres La Mousson and thanks Musette for emailing it to me.  I am assuming that this will also appear in print in the NYT magazine supplement tomorrow, if I recall correctly how this all flows together, but maybe I don’t.

I am not always in agreement with Burr, but I thought he hit the nail on the head with this one and provided information that I (a rank if enthusiastic amateur) don’t have access to. I would describe the fragrance differently than Burr does; it’s clear I find it much more horrifying than he does — he’s merely baffled — I think I’m getting a lot more melon. Anyway, enjoy. The review, that is. My advice is to stay away from the fragrance itself. He gives it one star for “inoffensive” but yikes!

While I’m doing this post, here is what I think is a working link to the whole set of Scent Notes fragrance reviews, which (if you have ever gone looking as I have for one of these on their search engine) can be hard to find.

March