Whew!  2011 is nearly over and I still don’t have my Escape limo and I have NO idea where Woody Harrelson is right now.   Better hustle!!!  But – we still have a few days so let’s take a look back at the  best/worst/most intriguing of 2011.  Most of this will be perfume, as it is The Perfume Posse, not Anita’s Playpen…but save room for a couple of weird inclusions, just because I Am In That Kinda Mood.  We are also not limiting this list (or your comments) to stuff brought forth in 2011 – rather, we’re interested in what piqued your interest this past year – some may have transported you with delight, some might’ve brought up your lunch!  Ya nebber know.

So, without further ado, here’s what grabbed us in 2011.

Anita’s picks:

Cartier les Heurres Fougueuse.  I fell in love with this the moment I sniffed it.  Then, inexplicably, I fell OUT of love with it – I think I got scared.  Then I just…gave in.  And swooned as over the course of the year it wrapped its honeyed, monied silken tendrils of sun-kissed hay around my soul….sigh.  Oh, Mathilde…..every time I wear this my step lightens just a little.. Liz Zorn Centennial.  This is an offshoot of her Historical Chypre, which I fell in love with (and bought nearly every drop she had) during the Chicocoa Scentsation.  The perfect peachy chypre, it is the essence of everything I love about Liz’s work;  I’m praying she brings it back soon. Chanel Coco (the original).  Blame March.  I wondered what y’all were yarking on about.  Now I know.  Amouage Epic Bath Gel and Body Creme. (not too far behind on this one, right?   I know it’s a 2009 but I wasn’t able to make it to the Dubai launch -previous plans, don’tcha know…)…anyhoo, 2011 made it New To Musette.   I just might make it through the winter (and the coming Apocalypse) with this.  I’m going to have to send my water bills to Christopher Chong, though.  Or His Majesty.  Whichever one is most likely to pay.

Alahine.  Epic FAIL.  Can you believe it?  Neither can I.  I waited 2 years to sniff that and when I did……..nothing.  I mean, it’s nice.  But what in the hell are you people smelling that transports you so?  March can’t even SPELL it, she is so in love.  She’s all ‘Alahiiiiiiiine’.  Wish I could have what she’s having.  sigh.

BestChowDiscoveries: Trader Joe’s Chicken Shu Mai.  For all I know these are made with chicken feet and beaks.  But isn’t that the best part? Sonoma Farm (from Chicago, go figure) Hot Pickled Garlic (that’s not what it’s called but that’s what it is ).   The website is seemingly gone and their stuff is hard to find (and when you do, at Food Fairs, etc, well, let’s just say they are not Good With the Publick.  But!  these (and the Brussels Sprouts) are worth the slog. Perfect in everything and yummy alone.  But I suggest you actually BE alone when you eat this stuff.  You will be comin’ in HOT for awhile…

Movies:  I hate going to the movies so I’m usually months behind everybody else.  And I admit to being Cranky Old Bat about the sheer volume of crap that gets released every month – there must be a whole lotta money needs launderin’, is allz I got to say (don’t believe me?  take a look at this 2011 list  (and I’m not even that fussy – I love blow’emups and Tony Scott!).  I did brave the plex for Contagion.   3 of us in the theatre.  Hey, I could get used to that!  El O hated the movie.  I thought it was quietly horrifying.  I also finally got around to The King’s Speech - hey I said I was behind! Why didn’t the gen pop like this film?  I think Geoffrey Rush could read the phone book and I would be entranced.   The funny, touching scene with him and Colin Firth when Lionel parks himself in St. Edward’s Chair…  Pitch-perfect.

March says: I went back and looked at the release dates of new-ish perfumes I enjoyed, and … they all came out in 2010.  So this year has been kind of a dud for me, in terms of new releases.  The one exception is Bottega Veneta, a less-powdery alternative to the new iteration of Cuir de Lancome, if you like the smell of expensive handbags.  Mostly I’ve been enjoying old favorites gathering dust in my collection, including Alahine, Jubilation 25, Coco, Tauer Orris, and Lutens’ Fleurs de Oranger.  I can think of worse things.  Anita sez:  that’s Alahiiiine! to you, li’l Missy.

Patty chimes in: This has been a weirdly great year for me in finding new loves.  From Prada Candy to the new JAR Bed of Roses, to Flowerbomb Extrait to a never-smelled bottle of the now-discontinued Lorenzo Villoresi Ylang-Ylang I found in my closet (yes, everyone should have closets like mine where you find a box full of perfume you forgot you had) that has sent me to the moon (um, see yesterday’s post for histrionics over this), it’s been a mixed bag of great smells.

I still love Bertrand Duchafour because he’s prolific and great, and I know for a fact there is more great stuff coming in 2012, so he gets my vote for Perfumer of the Year? Decade?  Oh, wait, we are two years in a new decade, it’s too early.

Ann’s Picks:

MDCI’s La Belle Helene: Up until this baby, no way,  no how was I ever going into pear territory again. Annick Goutal’s Petite Cherie went sour on me in record time and too many cheap pear body products left me shuddering. Until a sweet Posse swapper sent me a sample of La Belle, and one day, feeling brave, I said, “Oh, what the heck!” and put it on. Wowza! Now this is a pear I can wear. On me, it starts out a little bright, but true to the fruit,  and later, deepens, getting burnished down to a slightly gourmand (is that chocolate I smell?) soft oriental. It has a touchable, almost suedelike vibe to it, not unlike SL’s Daim Blond. It’s almost as if her gloves got left behind in the pear orchard, instead of atop a bushel basket of apricots.

Maison Martin Margiela Untitled: The fashion minimalist in me (I’ve always loved designers such as Zoran and Ronaldus Shamask) coveted this cool, paint-dipped bottle long before I had a chance to sniff the juice. And what lovely green juice it is: A hit of bitter green galbanum a la Cristalle segues beautifully into some musky, almost smoky incense, and thankfully, not an ashtray in sight.

Parfumerie Generale’s Indochine: This has turned out to be one of my favorite comfort “blankies” this winter. It reminds me a bit of Kenzo’s Amour (perhaps the thanaka wood that both share) but to my nose, the PG is richer, more creamy, dreamy and woody. This in a body cream would be nothing short of heaven in a jar. Its stablemate, Cadjmere, is another fave, although it gets a little cheeky with me if I do more than dab it.

Bottega Veneta: This lovely is helping to make a leather lover  out of me, despite my earlier misgivings about the note. BV’s easy elegance just coos quiet sophistication and makes me feel like a million bucks. And it doesn’t hurt that the bottle’s a thing of beauty. Now, if we can just get our hands on some MPG’s Cuir Fetiche to try …

And here’s a wonderful scentiment   from Tom, which we all share!!!

I’m doing my “best of” scent-wise on PST, so I’ll content myself with with celebrating a different best here: YOU GUYS!  That’s right!  I want to toast all of you out there, fellow bloggers, commenters and readers.  In the last several years of blogging, reading, learning and meeting people I can honestly state that I have never met a more warm, funny, intelligent and giving group of people.  YOU are the best of 2011 or any other year and I wish you all the best in the future.

For more looks back at 2011 please visit  Perfume-Smellin’ Things, Bois de Jasmin, Now Smell This and Grain de Musc.

Winner Alert:  Cuir Fetich sample winner is……..Mrs Honey!!!  drop a line at ‘contact us’ with your deets (and please remind us what you won).  thanks!

Unless you live on Jupiter and only get intermittent internet signal, you know that I am still having some issues with living at the back of the back of beyond.  This is mitigated, somewhat, by my occasional Saturday forays back to Chicago.  Two weeks ago I leapt aboard the train and went to do a Mag Mile stroll with my darling Miss Francine.  Lots of stops, including Chanel  and over the next couple of posts I will tell you allllll about some new stuff I sampled and sniffed.

The Universe was on my side that Saturday.  Starting out frosty, it quickly warmed up to the mid-60s, which made strolling an absolute delight.  We met at Nordie’s, where I got to sample the Bottega Veneta everybody’s been raving about (more on that in another post, I have to take my time with that subtle one)…I also sampled Prada Candy and……..I still feel like the Nerd Girl at the Cool Party.  I can’t ‘get it’ because I CAN’T SMELL IT!  sur-prize!  I have yet to find a Prada I can get more than a faint ‘scent-over-alcohol’ smell from.

Prada Hates Me.  Who cares?  I Love Kilian. 

We went to SFA to yakk with Rosie – and smooch the Kilians.  Francine hadn’t spent a lot of time with them so it was fun to watch her reactions. I think she fell in love with Straight to Heaven , though knowing her perfume tastes I am thinking it might have been A Taste of Heaven. – it was one of the Heavens, that much I do remember (I’m OLD).   I always forget that Kilian has two gorgeous Ouds, confusing them with the Tom Fords which reside cheek by jowl against the Kilian display.  Saks’s perfume counter is abysmal, banished to the back of the section like a smelly old dog.    Anyway, I stumbled back upon Rose Oud.…I have no idea why I keep glossing over this scent.  It combines two of my favorite scent families, rose and a soft, dark oud accord – I don’t know if you remember my summer experiment where I combined Amouage Tribute Attar with Rosine Poussiere de Rosine for the Hog Roast at the nursing home….this is similar, but without the ashy accord (which I love to distraction, btw).  This is much lighter and just beautiful.  In a ‘pretty’ way.   I find myself embarrassed to describe it thus because somehow ‘pretty’ has become almost anathema in the lexicon of Serious Perfumery.  It’s okay to be ‘daring’ or ‘challenging’ or ‘intriguing’ – why not ‘pretty’?  Tribute is GORGEOUS but it can be challenging and, in some situations, requires some explanation.  Sometimes I just want to smell beautiful, in a pretty way.  Just like this.

Rose Oud is, by far, my personal win of the Kilians, with Incense Oud  in for the place.  Both of those gorgeous beauties are done by the ultra-fabulous Calice Becker.  I applaud that she didn’t crush the rose notes under a whole lotta lotta, y’know?  Rose gets short shrift sometimes, just like ‘pretty’ – for example, the Rosines are often dismissed because of their lack of darkness and complexity – but I am going to come right out and say that I LIKE a sunny rose now and again.  Yeah, they’re not over-nuanced but there’s a place for them.  Rose Oud isn’t ‘sunny’ by a long shot – rather, it’s a glowing, faceted opal of a scent, with the roses and spices weaving and winkling around each other, forming a shining veil, luminous sunlight through stained glass.   It is complex without trumpeting its complexity like a fedora on a 14 yr old boy.

I’m not in the market for a full bottle of Rose Oud because my lottery ticket has not been verified just yet but when I am I won’t be getting it in the justintimefortheholidays glamazon Swarovski crystal limited-edition bottle – as magpie as I am, I can’t love the embellished Kilian bottles.  They feel ‘bedazzled’ to me, like someone hung a Juicy Couture charm on a vintage bottle of No 5 perfume.     The standard Kilian black bottles are elegant, classic – and good enough for me.  You may feel otherwise and that’s okay – diff’rent strokes!
But I thought you might like to see it anyway.  That’s it up there.

Notes for Rose Oud are: Turkish rose, oud, saffron, cardamom

Photo courtesy shopstyle.com

SURPRISE!! If you slogged through all that, there is a halfway-decent reward.  This charming young man at the Killian counter gave me this charming little box with 5 charming Kilian samples, including Rose Oud.  I’m giving it away because I am Just That Kinda Gal.  To enter, just let me know which Kilian is your favorite  – or which one you have always wanted to try, or how you feel about the LE bottles v. the regular ones, or what you’re having for Thanksgiving dinner, because I am Just That Nosy.   Giveaway will be open until Friday, November 25.   Winner will be announced next Tuesday.

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.

This was, I think, my fifth trip to Paris.  I was in eighth grade the first time I went, one of the many kids from our middle school’s French and Spanish classes (I was taking Spanish) slogging through those two countries over spring break.  What I remember of that trip: four francs to a dollar, more or less; the crepes (and the fact that they hurled your change at you); and that I could get served alcohol at a bar, so I spent evenings consuming things like White Russians and Grasshoppers and then throwing them up later, thereby giving me a lifelong aversion to nasty, sweet liqueur drinks.  I also remember our group tour going to a generally off-limits part of Notre Dame cathedral where if you stepped another fifteen feet the wrong direction you’d fall several stories to the ground — no guardrail.  My interpretation was that the French assumed that if you were stupid enough to walk over there, well … (insert Gallic shrug here.)  I didn’t disapprove.  I wonder if you can go up there now.

I am no faux Parisienne, no Francophile.  I don’t know what it is that has brought me back again and again to this city.  It is familiar (the Metro, the Left Bank, the walk along the Seine, the Palais Royal and the Luxembourg gardens, etc.) and yet pleasingly foreign.  I have just enough extremely basic French that I can get by and not offend (e.g., bonjour, excuse me please sir/madam/miss, thank you, pardon, yes, good-bye) but I don’t speak French, and so I can tune out most of the spoken language around me.  I can wangle a pastry any time I want to, but otherwise I can disengage and wander.  I am happy in Paris.  Ten days in Paris was just the ticket.  In case you are wondering.  In case I freaked you out a little with my Snowmageddon/drinking/I-need-a-vacation post, about which I am a little … embarrassed.  But hey — this blog is part social experiment for me, as you surely know.

A commenter on Angela’s first post about our Paris trip on Now Smell This was amused by the adorably wide-eyed enthusiasm of Americans abroad, and — hey, I’ve had worse truths said about me.   I did not detect any massive offense or disdain by the French at my obvious delight, or at my expressions of appreciation for what I have been served or shown or told.  In fact, I would say that overall the French people I met in Paris have been nothing but helpful and accommodating, and appreciative of my basic (if amusing) efforts to learn and use new words and admire my surroundings, whatever they were at the moment – from the man selling the artisanal honeys to the beauty of the overblown roses spilling their petals on the zinc tabletop one rainy morning.

My next few posts will probably be Paris posts, and each post should have a specific perfume section.  As I didn’t blog from Paris (or even take a computer) I’d rather organize my thoughts this way than one huge, sequential laundry list of here’s-what-I-smelled.  If the personal bits bore you, you should be able to scan until you get to the perfume bits.  Bon appetit.

I got to smell the two new Prada Infusion scents – Tubereuse (which was on the ladies’ side of Sephora) and Vetiver, which was on the men’s, although certainly I wouldn’t let that hold you back.

The first of the series, Prada Infusion d’Iris, was a scent that grew on me over quite a long time, probably more than a year, as I came to appreciate its subtlety and its surprising longevity.  (Prada Infusion d’Homme is so similar to the original Infusion d’Iris to my nose that I am missing its point, but it’s supposed to be a tad more woods/incense.  My personal theory is that the marketing machine was worried that a man wouldn’t buy a scent with “Iris” in its name, no matter how unisex it looked and smelled.)

Infusion de Fleur d’Oranger was (literally) a bitter disappointment – I love orange scents, whether they’re blossom or fruit, and Oranger is a strangely sharp, sour soapy, unpleasant little thing on me.  I also think it was supposed to be a limited edition, which was just fine by me, and I don’t see it on the shelves much over here, but it was all over Paris.   While I’m blathering, their L’Eau Ambree from last fall, in the short, rectangular, original Prada bottle, is so sheer it would fit nicely into this line.

I tried the Prada Infusion de Tubereuse first (twice, actually, because I had trouble getting my hands on a Vetiver tester.)  I wish our image function were working on here, but you can google them – it’s the standard Infusion bottle, but it’s got a little abstract decorative detail down the side – pink and gray for Tuberose, green and gray for Vetiver – with matching caps and a little dangling silver tag, and I think they’re really nicely done – a little more playful then the original bottle, maybe, but still restrained and chic.

And that, unfortunately, is the nicest thing I can think of to say about Infusion de Tubereuse. Given the concept, I was prepared for sheer and subtle.  But I wasn’t expecting anything quite so … generic.  It could be almost any vague combination of florals – not too sweet, not fruity, not interesting.  I got the same impression on my skin as I did on the paper strip, so out of curiosity I soaked the sleeve of my wool coat with it – four healthy sprays – and after an hour it was essentially gone.  The notes I have are tuberose, petitgrain and blood orange, and I’ll take their word for it.   Other than “floral” with some citrus I wouldn’t have had a clue – not even “white flowers.”   Folks who don’t care much for Infusion d’Iris would probably shrug their shoulders and say, well, what do you expect? But if you can smell it, the original Infusion d’Iris is a great addition to a fragrance wardrobe, and I don’t have anything else quite like it.  Tubereuse I’ll be taking a pass on.

And so it was with a heavy heart that I sprayed on Vetiver (it took me visits to two Sephoras and a Marionnaud to find a tester) and … well … honestly?

It was great.

Now, before you start drooling on your keyboard, let’s have a reality check – Onda this is not.  It’s one of the Infusions, yes?  And so it has a similar lightness, and if you’re underwhelmed by Infusion d’Iris, maybe you’d feel the same about this.  Notes are vetiver, tarragon, Madagascan pepper and purple ginger, and that sums it up nicely.

I put on Givenchy Vetyver from Les Mythiques on the other hand, and the contrast was interesting.  The Givenchy is at once rootier and more elegant; it smells like, well, Givenchy – a dressier fragrance calling for a nice, starched shirt.  The Prada Vetiver reminds me a bit of that Lubin Vetiver reissue which I was wild for and which I wish I still had a sample of – it’s cheerful and peppery and citrusy and a bit effervescent, that gin cocktail effect, although remember we are talking subtle.   The vetiver stays green, sheer and cologne-like, designed to refresh rather than to challenge (although there’s nothing “fresh” or watery in the scent.)   And for those in on the joke, the punchline is much like the Prada Infusion d’Iris — it is extraordinarily tenacious. While Givenchy Vetyver, ever the gentleman, departed after several hours, the Prada joined me in the shower, lasted through several handwashings, spent the night, and was still there in the morning, all smiles.  I had no objection whatsoever.  If you like your vetiver on the light side, and/or you were remotely charmed by any of the others in this series, you might want to give this one a whirl.

Special thanks to my partners in crime, Louise and Angela from Now Smell This, with whom I shared an apartment on the Blvd. Montparnasse (a view of the Eiffel Tower!), some amazing meals, excellent walks, vulgar jokes, and quite a few belly laughs.  Also thanks to Ange for graciously allowing us to use her laptop to check our emails when we discovered a dearth of internet cafes in our area (WiFi and smaller, cheaper laptops are taking their toll, even in the student neighborhoods.)   Finally, ladies – I blame both of you for the necklace you forced me to buy, which has already garnered compliments.  Let’s do it again, maybe in Portland this summer…

March

Prada Infusion d’Iris was an interesting fragrance turnaround for me.  I spent weeks (months?) after it was released grumbling that I couldn’t smell it.  It was a faint, tepid thing that barely qualified as fragrance.  Every now and again, however, I’d get a tantalizing whiff of it, and the raves of others were enough to get me to keep trying.  At one point I discovered I could smell the (very nice) body lotion, and shortly thereafter all the pieces fell into place.  It’s a popular scent in my conservative city, judging by the regular whiffs I catch of it on people nearby – in elevators, on the subway.  It strikes me as the sort of scent you could get away with wearing in almost any but the most strict no-frag zones.  I still think I can smell it better on other folks than on myself, but I wear it pretty regularly in the summer, and/or at times when I need something clean and stealthy.  It’s a fragrance that I keep winding up with sample vials of, somehow, so I still haven’t bought any.  But if the sample supply dries up indefinitely, I’d probably end up with at least a decant, or maybe I’d go ahead and fork over for the pretty bottle.  I like Infusion d’Iris a lot.

Having lived the dream once with Prada Infusion d’Iris, I was prepared for the shenanigans of Prada’s new release, L´Eau Ambrée.  Sure enough, the first time I smelled it – at the end of an intense sniffage session with a group of gals – I couldn’t smell a thing, and they mostly couldn’t either.   I wound up with a sample so I could keep playing when my nose wasn’t already assailed with other things.

I keep renaming this scent Infusion d’Ambre in my head – it’s just about as light as Iris, maybe a bit stronger (notes: citron, May rose, gardenia, patchouli, opoponax, vanilla).  It’s a different smell, although it takes a pretty good soaking to pick the differences out — it’s both a tad sweeter and more powdery than Iris.  Like the Iris, it has the same interesting stealth effect, at least to me.  It dries down and fades away but has a habit of popping up again and again, all day long.  Also like Iris, for something that wears lightly it has excellent lasting power.  It’s not wildly “amber” in that it’s missing the cloying liquid sweetness of many modern ambers, and it’s not particularly feminine.  Do I like it as much as Iris?  Personally, no.  Infusion d’Iris has a subtle, bitter, rooty/arid strangeness that I find compelling.  But I wouldn’t be surprised if most people smelling them side by side preferred the drydown of L´Eau Ambrée.

L´Eau Ambrée is in the regular Prada oblong rectangle bottle, which is fine but nowhere near as pretty as the tall Infusion bottle, in my opinion.  I vastly prefer L´Eau Ambrée to Infusion de Fleur d´Oranger, which looked gorgeous but which I found unbearably soapy and bitter (no offense to its fans) and which – after a big rollout – seems to have disappeared from my local Nordstrom, making me think that I’m not the only one who didn’t love it (and I mostly love orange scents.)

If you’ve tried this I’d love to know what you think, especially if you have much in the way of feelings about the other Prada scents.

March