(hi, folks — here’s a guest post by Nava, a regular reader and contributor at Perfume Critic and Makeupalley, and a commenter at the Posse as well as other scented and unscented blogs. She lives in New York with her husband and cat, and loves to be a contrarian in her spare time.)

I am convinced the act of hoarding is hereditary. The female members of my immediate family have proven to be fine examples of this art of “collecting”. My maternal grandmother hoarded food; she survived the Great Depression after emigrating from Poland to Canada after World War I. In better times she also hoarded bed linens, table cloths and tea towels. We’re not talking cheap stuff, either. The finest Irish linen you could bargain for on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, purchased during a time when you could bargain for such things. Unfortunately, I never got to witness my grandmother in all her bargaining-mode glory, but I did see all her purchases come tumbling out of the hall closet after her death when I was 9 years-old. As my mother cleaned out her apartment, she could not bear to part with all the pristine linens that never graced a bed or table. Since my mom’s passing, they now reside carefully stored in my attic, along with other family treasures. But the hoarding did not end there.

I have a Serge Drawer. Yes, a drawer that contains nothing but Serge Lutens fragrances. My drawer is not part of a girly, organza-skirted vanity table or antique armoire; it is one nondescript drawer of a 17 year-old Ikea pressboard dresser that I bought when I moved into my first apartment. I used to keep underwear in this particular drawer. It is a top drawer after all. But now it houses 15 export bottles and 23 bell jars, all of them still shrink-wrapped and just as pristine as my grandmother’s 50 year-old linens. I cannot bring myself to unwrap them, much less consider wearing them. I wish my Bubbie Sarah was still around so I could ask her why she bought all those linens if she never intended to use them. Then, maybe I’d have some insight into my own peccadillo, and an answer to why I never touch any of these bottles of fragrance.

I think a goodly amount of my reticence stems from the exclusivity of the Serge Lutens line, the fact that most of them are only available in one specific place in one particular city. My husband and I took a vacation to Dublin and London 3-1/2 years ago, and journeyed via Eurostar through the Chunnel from London to Paris. Since we were spending only one day in the City of Light, I had only three must-see destinations: the Eiffel Tower, the Mona Lisa (we were, after all, tourists), and the Salons du Shiseido. My husband was quite the good sport whilst I pillaged the Salons; he waited outside. When I finally emerged, we made our way out of the Palais Royale and over to the Louvre so we could do a mad dash through as much of it as possible (reference Mark Twain’s images of American tourists in Innocents Abroad running through the Vatican Museum to get to the Sistine Chapel; been there, done that, too). As we approached the glass pyramid, I wondered why there were not more people milling about, despite the fact that we descended on Paris on a very grey, chilly November day. It was a Tuesday, and you would think we would have known that the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays. No such luck. No mention of it either from the lovely French girl at the concierge desk in our London hotel who very happily almost booked us 2 first class Eurostar tickets which would have set us back about £800. Of course, I prevented that from happening.

Turned away at the Louvre, myself, my husband and my 4 bell jars (Rahat Loukhoum, Muscs Koublai Khan, Bois et Fruits and Cuir Mauresque) went stomping all the way down the Champs-Élysées, to the Avenue Montaigne, past every designer shop and the Plaza Athinée, without even pausing to look at anything. I was following the Eiffel Tower, just like I used to follow the CN Tower all over the city of Toronto when I was a kid. I was a woman on a mission. I kept thinking, OK, I can still make two out of three, with the Meat Loaf song “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” earworming its way through my head the entire time.

When we finally reached the tower, and while waiting in line to buy tickets, I noticed what I presumed to be an American couple standing in the snaking line. What gave them away was that the woman was carrying the Frommer’s Guide to Paris, something I flat out refused to buy since I didn’t think we’d need it; we were only going to be there for one lousy day. Armed with just my très, très mal university French and a fistful of Euros, I thought we’d be fine. Of course I inquired of this woman, “Could you please tell me if your guide says which day of the week the Louvre is closed?” She, a very nice lady from Des Moines Iowa traveling with her husband, graciously informed me, “Uh, it says here the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays.” Upon hearing that news, I believe I turned a shade of red non-existent in nature. At least that’s what my husband claims.

On the train back to London, I clutched my bottles of fragrance with the vehemence of a lioness guarding her newborn cubs. I couldn’t help it; they were the most significant souvenirs of my trip, along with my disappointment and frustration. I vowed I was going to hunt down that French concierge girl and beat her senseless for not informing us that the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays. I did make mention that it was one of our planned destinations, but alas, for reasons not known, she never communicated that little tidbit of information. I remain disappointed to this day, since I have not been back to Paris. A travel journalist friend of mine loves to tell people that you should never go anywhere thinking that you will never revisit the place you are going to. Of course, he traverses the globe on the good graces of the airlines and stays at the best hotels in the world for a mere fraction of what Joe Schmo tourist would pay. In all fairness, I must mention that our trip was made possible by his contacts, and if not for them, would have cost somewhere in the neighborhood of a loaded Toyota Corolla.

As I previously mentioned, my Serge Lutens collection has grown significantly from the original 4 bottles. The “export” fragrances can be had fairly easily, but there is just something about those bell jars that elicits a powerful I’ll-walk-barefoot-over-broken- glass-then-wade-waist-deep-through-raw-sewage urge to get my hands on them. I have gone through backchannels and shopping services and of course, the ubiquitous auction site to obtain my bottles. I don’t consider myself overly materialistic, but I will admit that my Serge Drawer houses some of my most prized possessions. I still harbor the dream of going back to Paris one day and re-visiting the Salons, and going back to the Louvre, of course; just not on a Tuesday.

It’s me, March, posting on Lee’s day. I know — it feels weird to me, too. But since Lee’s abandoned us taking a break from blogging, we’re rearranging the schedule slightly – I’m back to Mon/Weds., Patty’s Tues/Thurs, and Friday will be a mixed assortment of pleasures while we try various things out. This coming Friday is a group blogging effort on spring scents. Next Friday you all are evaluating Clinique Aromatics Elixir, Clinique Happy and Tommy Hilfiger Tommy Girl, as Patty discussed yesterday. Email your brief reviews of any/all of these scents to perfume dot posse at gmail dot com (using the appropriate symbols in place of “dot” and “at”). Maria also suggested another discussion of Perfumes: The Guide after more of you have had a chance to read it, and I think that’s a dandy idea. We’ll have some guest posters. If nothing else we’ll have the occasional Trashy Friday and off-topic posts. Stay tuned.

Okay, my report from the NYC Sniffa last weekend. I think it was Judith who said to me that she once met a woman who had done the Sniffa on a Saturday and run in a marathon Sunday. The woman said the Sniffa was more exhausting. Which helped explain how poleaxed I felt by 8 pm on Saturday. There were a lot of people (150ish) and – news flash – you stick 150 people in a room for sniffing, lunch, whatever, and it’s hot and noisy. I lost my voice by the time we got to the last event, just from strain from trying to talk over the din, and I still haven’t gotten it back.

My favorite part is pretty obvious – I loved meeting all the folks from the blog, including lurkers who’ve never posted but who came up and introduced themselves. I wore my rhinestone tiara in the morning, starting at breakfast, as promised for easy identification purposes. Of course, the great thing about NYC is you can run around in a tiara and nobody bats an eye. I met and hung out with so many wonderful people, including Divalano (who I will never call Divalino again!), Judith, Alyssa, Francesca, Carol, Kirsten, Chaya, old friends like Sarah, Mary, Louise and others, the Karens, some of the other fragrance bloggers … too many folks to name. I’m going to irritate all of you now by saying I think I’m not going to put the photos up. In all the chaos I am not confident I made it clear to everyone why I was taking pics, and I’m sensitive about people seeing themselves identified on here without their permission, particularly if they also feel the photo sucks. Not to put too fine a point on it. Picture a lot of sweaty, grinning, mildly crazed looking women (and a few men) crowded together sniffing their wrists. I close my eyes and remember and I can smell them from here.

I bought … nothing. I know, I know, defeating the whole economic point of the Sniffa, but oh, well. Wait, not quite true – Patty and I ended up splitting an Epices coffret from L’Artisan (I took Safran Troublant). I did my bit for the economy in other ways, though, and not naming any names, but some serious monies were spent by various gals on both scent and makeup, which is a big overlapping interest of many of the attendees. And a shout out to Kristen, email me where you got those shoes again?!? Maybe shoes aren’t boring after all…

There’s no way I can talk about everything I sniffed, so here’s what caught my attention, in no particular order –

Serge Lutens Bois de Violette has joined the exports at Bergdorf, and they handed it around, and maybe I hadn’t paid the right kind of attention before. It’s lovely – a warm, woody violet rather than the cool combo you often get. It’s simple and strange and wonderful. Chanel’s new Sycomore was just okay to me, not being a vetiver freak, but I think it was a huge hit for other folks. There was some serious spending over at Guerlain. Mona di Orio was there (Bergdorf has picked up her line) and can I just say how chic and charming and lovely she is? Another big surprise for me was the new Jo Malone Kohdo Wood Collection. JM mostly doesn’t do it for me, I don’t know why. It’s often too bitter, or dank, or something. And you can read their blurbage on the Kohdo Wood Collection but sniff-wise, don’t be looking for anything that makes you think of Japan. Lotus Blossom & Water Lily is the “day” scent and it’s a nice, pretty, inoffensive floral-aquatic, which (kill me now) maybe I’ll find myself liking in the summer, but maybe not. It’s fine. But the other one, the Dark Amber and Ginger Lily, was delicious – so delicious I threw caution to the wind and drenched myself in it. Notes are cardamom, pink pepper (of course!), ginger, jasmine, orchid, water lily, rose, black amber, white pepperwood, leather, patchouli, sandalwood, incense. It’s a creamy jasmine-amber with some spice, sensual and dark. Maybe it’s the spices and jasmine working for me, mitigating the boozy tendencies of amber that nauseate me. I couldn’t believe how much I liked this thing. Also I think it’s less than $100, which these days is, essentially, free. Finally, I tried Piguet Visa, which is a hoot. If you’re willing to get in touch with your inner Carmen Miranda, it’s got a big fat fruit note up front that somehow never manages to get overly sweet. Look, ma – you can make a fruity floral worth loving. It’s simple in a way that makes me suspicious that it’s much more complicated in structure than I’m appreciating. I feel like it’s having me on a little, if that makes sense, but it’s so clever I’m happy to play along. I wish the drydown lasted a bit longer, but maybe my nose just gave out.

I got a chance to sniff the five Thierry Mugler Miroir thingies at Saks, and to me the most compelling thing about them is the mirrored box each one comes in ($150 for 1.7oz) I have seen zero attention paid to them, have you tried any? I thought I’d like Envies with its nutty note, but no – too fresh. Secrets is a sour aldehyde-patch combo. Vanites is licorice-citrus and not me at all. Travers is allegedly tuberose but all I got was the woody masculine accord. Dis-Moi is waaay more popular than the others according to the hot-looking but extremely poorly trained SA there, who could not name a single note of any of them. All five got 3 or 4 stars from LT/TS, so they’re getting more out of them than I am. I also got a quick sniff of the new Lancome in La Collection, Peut-Etre (they had a small tester but not the bottles yet) which is French for “I have no idea but it smells like a light, somewhat powdery summer floral.” I’ll take Sikkim (or Magie), thanks… oh, wait, here’s a link to Lancome’s goofy blurb on this scent, which means “perhaps.” Here, let me quote: “She hears footsteps, opens her eyes and looks into his. She sees a new and special intensity in his gaze. And is something hidden in his hand? The moment is electric.” Snerk. Roses, lilac, iris, jasmine. Hey, has anyone noticed most of La Collection is disappearing from the website? They kept Climat and Roses, and all the rest are … gone.

The new D&G The One for men? A standard-issue inoffensive, warm, woody number I couldn’t pick out of a lineup. (I rather like the women’s.) And after its glowing review in The Guide, I retried Narciso Rodriguez again, and … nope. I still can’t smell it. Cannot smell a thing. A little alcohol, maybe. So remember that the next time you disagree with one of my reviews. Think to yourself, but this is from the gal who can’t even smell Narciso.

Mugler Miroir fragrances: lexpress.fr

Sniffa attendees: Patty and I and Divalino have triple-dog-dared each other into some shenanigans. Look for me in a tasteful rhinestone tiara at the Sniffa Bergdorf breakfast on Saturday; I believe Patty will be wearing her KU cap (and won’t we be a sight?) At the BlueMercury cocktail event that night I plan to wear Hecate’s festive pink antennae (pictured at left), and I think Divalino is wearing a light-up tiara of her own. I invite all Posse readers to join us in wearing either headgear or a jaunty scarf to the day’s events, or just have a laugh at our expense.

On to today’s post:

Once upon a time there was a house called Serge Lutens. Its fragrances never failed to amaze me. They took me on journeys that lasted all day as the dominant notes ebbed and flowed. They were so intense I could rarely sample more than two in a single setting before my nose stopped working properly. Some of them I loved; some of them I hated. Even the ones I considered unwearable are still interesting, multifaceted scents, better left to others with different skin chemistries (or perfume desires) than mine.

Read off a list of Serges and smile at the wonder of it all. Santal Blanc, Tubereuse Criminelle, Borneo, Muscs Koublai Khan, Fumerie Turque, the Bois series, Encens et Lavande, Iris Silver Mist … the list goes on and on, doesn’t it? Fantastic. Nothing like them, really.

I’m going to draw my arbitrary line at 2005 as the point at which things at SL begin to get a little … tenuous. Bois et Musc I like, a lot, but it’s another in the Bois series and thus hardly represents a groundbreaking new idea. Next up: Mandarin Mandarine, which I like, sort of, only it seems a bit thin and raspy, although many folks would probably give it bonus points for lacking that signature Serge syrup. Again, very nice and certainly easy to wear, but IMHO not quite on the same level as the earlier Serges. Then we have Gris Clair, a (less interesting) riff on the earlier, so-gorgeous-it-makes-me-weep Encens et Lavande. Taken together, Mandarin Mandarine and Gris Clair signal a new kind of Serge – ones that feel more like a rough sketch of an interesting idea than a finished work.

Then we have Chypre Rouge, which I liked very much (and many people didn’t) but more because it was refreshingly weird than any real desire to wear it, and I missed weird from my Serge. I could argue convincingly that Chypre Rouge shares some of the raspy smell and feel of the two scents that came before it, and they all start to feel like competing drafts of something else. Sarrasins is a variation on the theme of A La Nuit, and I don’t care how dark they dye it or how pretty the bottle is, at that point I’m beginning to wonder, are they out of ideas? Are there no notes left to explore?

This worrisome thought certainly wasn’t alleviated by Rousse and Louve. I won’t rag on Rousse, which has a ton of fans, but again – whither the Serge freak flag? Just my opinion, but a fragrance that smells mostly of cinnamon candies, no matter how cheery, fails to join the august ranks of SL’s older scents. Louve smells like heliotrope/cherry-almond/marzipan, and if, as a Basenotes commenter suggests, it is a ringer for the scent of Vidal Sassoon shampoo in the 70s, that does nothing to improve its impression on me. You can like it, or not, but you will never convince me it’s interesting. It’s also on some level possibly a less-syrupy reworking of Rahat Loukoum, but as I don’t have a sample I can’t say for sure.

Bringing us right up to Five O’Clock au Gingembre, the fragrance that was going to redeem Serge Lutens in my eyes. Notes are: bergamot, vetiver, ginger, honey, beeswax, labdanum and vanilla. I spent several days applying and reapplying with an atomizer until I’d blown through most of my generous sample in various working conditions. Hey, it’s nice. Pretty. It has the same raspy feel of Mandarine, Chypre Rouge, Rousse and Gris Clair, and approximately the same weight. It’s a simple idea with minimal development. It’s gingery and honey and hay and maybe a little vanilla musk. My favorite part is the drydown when it shifts from ginger-tea to a sweet vanilla skin scent. I bet if I sprayed it on and went to a cocktail party, I might get some compliments on it.

If I’d discovered something that smells like Five O’Clock au Gingembre on the shelf at Sephora between Ralph Wild and Stella McCartney, I’d be ecstatic. But sniffing and resniffing, I keep getting the sinking feeling that if I layered, say, a dab of John Varvatos Vintage and Demeter Honey with Roger & Gallet Gingembre, I would get something like SL Gingembre – a little less fancy than Serge’s version, maybe, but with better lasting power.

Coming from Serge Lutens, “nice” and “pretty” isn’t good enough for me. Not by a mile. Serge, where is your mojo? These fragrances, they’re flaccid. They’re hazy and lazy and indistinct. They lack your signature touch. Where is the rollercoaster-thrill of fear I used to get when trying a brand new Serge that came from the knowledge that I might spend the rest of the day wishing I could hack my own arm off? (See: Arabie, Miel de Bois, Borneo.) Is this all there is? The best you can do? Maybe you should hang up your spurs, develop some new interests. Restoring ancient castles or pursuing your long-deferred dream of becoming an entomologist, or what have you. Enough of this Serge-goes-to-Macy’s folderol. I don’t care how pretty it smells; these nice fragrances are beneath you. Go find your old bad self, okay? Because right now you are, as my rancher friends used to say, all hat and no cattle.

When one sets out to narrow down to six perfumes her favorites, what she should do instead is grab a Xanax,  place her head under the pillow, hold it down firmly so nobody hears and scream until the mood passes.

But I didn’t. Instead I have come up with the list of the six perfumes that I cannot live without, under any circumstances, and which best define who I am or want to pretend to be. So they may or may not be the perfumes that I admire most as great creations, though I think all on this list are that, but they are the ones most beautiful to me. The agonies of discarding beloved perfumes from this list has been horrible. Warning, there are a couple of incidences of cheating to narrow this down…

1. Ormonde Woman. Full-bodied green velvet –think Miss Ellen’s Poitiers from Gone with The Wind, after they got made into that beautiful green gown for Scarlett. A little saucy and tart, makes you pucker sometimes, not sure if you like it or not, but inevitably its charm wears you down. Parfum version preferred, it just amps up the annoyance and the charm.

2. Guerlain Après L’ondee. Melancholy, regretful, but completely full of hope. It is sorrow at 1,000 yards, where you can look at it and appreciate the exquisite pain without really feeling it. The numb place before the real pain sets in or after it has gone. EDT or parfum will work.

3. Le Labo Patchouli 24/Vanille 44 – Okay, this is a cheat, I know, I know! But they GO together, kids! A spritz of Patch down the front of your shirt for depth and tarry resonance and a couple of spritzes of Vanille over your outer clothes and in your hair creates a cloud of woody vanilla over that tar - truly the most amazing and comforting scent in the world.

4. Christian Dior Dorling vintage parfum. What a cold, unfeeling thing it starts off as, and you’re thinking it has no soul; it’s finicky, much too churlish and standoffish to love. That’s when Dorling brings the magic. It warms not into the most beautiful girl in the room, but the most interesting, the one you have to stop and pay attention to, sit and talk with. Anthropomorphize much? Well, this perfume seems completely human to me, and she never fails to amaze me.

5. CB Cradle of Light/Strange Invisible Perfumes Lady Day/Serge Lutens Sarrasins. Yes, I’m cheating, but any of these three could fit here, and any day will have me changing my mind. They are gorgeous jasmine treatments, and each stuns me and can keep me mesmerized all day with its beauty - sort of a hypnotic sniffing loop.  Everyone has to have a jasmine on their list, unless you hate jasmine, but you should get over it and put one on your list anyway… or three.

6. Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist. Give me that overabundance of cold, rooty iris with a dollop of spice in the drydown, and I’ll give you my unadorned and complete, lavish devotion for a lifetime.  Genius, brilliant, and a joy to wear on any day of the year.

While I started off with a list of five, I had to expand it to six because none of these would exit the list. Now, as I read comments, I will find my head exploding as you guys mention perfumes that should be on this list, and there is a subset of about 100 perfumes that go beneath these that I also can’t live without, but these are the list of six’ish that I will have in embarrassing amounts for all of my life.

What’s your six?

Annoying American Idol part of Friday:  Ramiele is GONE, yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mop-up items:  Winner of the Indult C16 and CdG Hinoki samples are:  Tom (tmp00) and Six.  Just click on Contact us over on the left, and send me you address and I’ll ship you the samples! 

Lee gave a great review on this last week, and I did a short blurb as well, but I am so much in love with this stuff, I have to write a little more about it - mostly because I’ve put it on every day since I got it.

This goes on like thick honeyed smoke, a more palatable Miel de Bois with some dark, rich Tea for Two and CdG Tea thrown in.  It can change back and forth from smoke to tea to honey being more prominent, with ginger overarching the whole composition, bubbling, but never getting oppressive, which is what I would expect from something with these strong notes.  This is one of the few scents I’ve worn out that I’ve gotten a compliment on - I do try to be careful about my sillage in public, though my private sillage is just embarrassingly ridiculous much of the time.

I stuck my sprayed hand under my youngest son Harry’s nose and asked him what he thought, and he kept my hand and just drowned his nose in it.  Since he’s only done that with a couple of scents, that is high praise indeed.

If you despise tea scents or smokey scents or all of the ones referenced above, The Five may not work for you, but I am guessing this will wind up being one of the better sellers for their export line. It’s brilliantly done.  And freaking hot.

A question, if you had to pick just two of the Serge exports and two of the Serge non-exports that you could have a constant supply of for your whole life, which would you pick?

Painting - Caravaggio’s Narcissus

Figuring out what to write about in a post is a bit like planning meals - I don’t mind the actual writing, but coming up with the what-to-write-about bit sometimes puts me in a whirling mental kerfuffle. It’s relatively easy to pick the most interesting scents, usually things I like or find a little freaky, which may or may not be mainstream interesting to most of you. The danger lies in going over the top with praise, it can end up being a lot of self-indulgent smack - literary Onanism, if you will. I think most of you that have been reading perfume reviews for a while know that YSMV (your skin may vary). What one person loves and adores may be a complete freak show on you, so always take any review with a grain of salt - mine as well!

So to avoid any mental kerfuffles today, I asked Lee and March to tell me what to write about, and they’ve chosen Caron Bellodgia and Fleurs de Rocaille, some beautiful Caron classics that are easy to get and relatively cheap for the parfum/extrait version. I did a quick search and found Bellodgia at Imagination Perfumery for $75 for 1/2 ounce of the extrait and at 1stperfume for $59.99 (yeah, yeah, I know they can have problems, but I’ve never had any they didn’t fix). Fleurs de Rocaille I’ve found at 1st Perfume in the past, but they don’t appear to have any now, but it’s been pretty economical when I have bought it, sub-$100 for the extrait. Note the plural on Fleurs, that’s the one you want, not Fleur.

Bellodgia has notes of carnation, rose, jasmine, violet, lily of the valley, sandalwood, vanilla and musk and was created by Ernest Daltroff in 1927. This is probably one of the more accessible Carons for those of you that are not fond of the Caron mousse de saxe base that you find in the urns and Nuit de Noel & Narcisse Noir. It starts out most definitely with carnation, but it’s not the strong carnation/clove that Poivre and Coup de Fouet have. The peppery carnation feel is softened quickly on the open by the other floral notes, and it truly feels like a product of its time, but never trapped in that. It’s from a time when women smelled elegantly of flowers, but with this, the musk warms it beautifully so it’s not just another pretty floral face. Every time I put this on, it just surrounds me with a beautiful scent, like stepping into a dreamlike summer garden, and I wonder why I ever wear anything else.

With notes of Gardenia, Violet, Lily of the valley, rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, lilac, mimosa, iris, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, Amber, Fleurs de Rocaille has that some lovely floral softness on the open, with the emphasis on the ylang, but it has a bit more of a bite or sharpness to it — not bitter sharp, just crisp, and a little green - from the aldehydes/LotV, I guess? Where Bellodgia is all warmth, Fleurs de Rocaille is cooly elegant, with a “Can’t Touch This, dah dah, dah dah” Hammertime vibe. As it dries down, the LotV loses the more green, sharp feel. This is a perfume to keep you company in the quiet, contented moments of your life.

Two underappreciated Caron beauties.

Last minute add: Serge Lutems Five O’Clock au Gingembre just showed up. Honey, ginger, tea. Don’t see tea as a note, but whether it’s in there in reality or not doesn’t matter because the combination gives off that beautiful scent of freshly brewed. Love.

Okay, so now I’m looking for tips, etc. We are doing a big graduation trip in June to Europe. We’ll be spending a couple of days in Paris with my uncle, then we’ll be traveling down the Loire Valley (castle crawl for the youngest son graduating from High School - he loves, loves, loves castles, despite the fact he’s never been in one) into Bordeaux/Dordogne, where my uncle has a country home. From there, we’ll have to zoom back to Paris to either catch the train or fly to Florence, Italy. We’re staying at a B&B there for about a week, then we go to Rome for two days before we return home.

Now, what is the absolute must-see castle in France or Italy? Or one site in the French countryside we shouldn’t miss or something we can’t miss in Umbria/Florence/Tuscany or Rome?

Painting - Caravaggio’s Narcissus

Summer time?

All the time?

Even more all the time?

Part-time?

Closing time?

Are you sure it isn’t closing time?

Trippy time?

Hammer time?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme?

Just Rosemary and Thyme?

No, silly! It’s none of those. It’s time to announce the winners, that’s what time it is…

The most competitive draw was for Bois Farine - Sue won!

Voleur de Roses - well done Cheri.

Habit Rouge - congrats to perfumequeen.

Jo Malone Amber and Lavender - it’s yours, Sylvia.

Ungaro III is heading to its rightful owner, Erin K.

Jaipur pour Homme - quick out of the draw was perfume nut Mark David.

Arpege pour Homme is heading south to Matt S.

Rochas Lui is off to frolic in temperate climes with grizzlesnort.

No-one wanted Hugo Boss Soul…

I’ve managed to contact all winners except for Cheri, so if you’re reading this, please hit the contact us button. Commiserations to those who lucked out. I’m expecting some little return packages and am excited to see what’s what. I’ll be letting y’all know.

The other time reference in today’s post is of course to Serge Lutens’ latest release, Five O’Clock au Gingembre. However, I’m not sure I have that much to say about it, seeing as all I’ve been able to get through the post is a tester strip, still almost damp on arrival - they must’ve soaked and soaked before sealing.

It’s supposed to be very bergamotty in the opening, but seeing as this is a tester strip, I get little of that (and take the fact that I’ve not done a skin test as a proviso please). First off, it has that Serge and Sheldrake something that fans - and enemies! - of the line will instantaneously recognise. To me it’s the beeswax (not honey) and spice accord that seems a signature flourish in his orientals. Ostensibly, there’s nothing particularly new here. It is yet another variation on a theme. And, if you’re bored of Lutens’ exploration of the spice theme, and the postured blending of contemporary European sensibilities with nineteenth century Orientalism, you’re not going to be excited here.

My initial sniffs made me think of Bois Oriental and ginger, though on subsequent returns to my little plastic pouch those thoughts have changed. Whilst not especially sweet, some of the candied, or perhaps even stewed, quality of the ginger comes through - there’s none of the harsh astringency you get from the raw root, or the burn of the powder, either. Likewise, this is very low key on the citric elements you find in that freshly grated knobbly rhizome. Instead of the yellow associations I might have had with such descriptions, I’m taken into a world of burnt umbers, shadowed shades of browns and oranges. And there’s a masculine element at work here - the vetiver, patchouli and cistus combination perhaps, though none of those notes are as distinct as they are in other Lutens and Sheldrake creations. This one is all about the blend.

Whilst the ginger and pepper may give the scent its raspy buzz, its alert quality, the cocoa works as a baritone, lowering the frequency and harmonising the tune. Once you see the cocoa here, a gourmand quality does become far more obvious, though the scent itself never becomes foody. It’s definitely too abstract for that, in spite of its name that seems to be a bizarre re-imagining of the types of English tradition I’ve never known (I wish, in the words of Noel Coward, everything did stop for tea). There should be tea here, I suppose, and perhaps there is. I don’t pick it up in any obvious way, and though the scent has stylistic similarities to Giacobetti’s Tea for Two, it has none of the verisimilitude of that l’Artisan number.

Summary thoughts - it’s a quiet Lutens. Like Rousse, there are no oddities, startling juxtapositions or surprises here. To quote a truism of our times, it is what it is. I don’t get the fresh elements described elsewhere, but then I haven’t yet smelled the whole scent. I’m really only focused on the base here, and for me, Serge is the king of the bases. I will be buying it: I’ve been carrying the tester strip everywhere with me, and it’s pushing more and more of my buttons every hour (and I mean every hour) I’ve been sniffing it. I can only imagine the beauty of its trail.

I asked the SA - Lydie - at the Salons whether any other perfumes could be expected this year. Though I received the usual gnomic evasions, I did get the impression that there might be two more yet to be released, before 2008 passes into history. There seemed  no knowledge of last year’s rumour that the line has reached its end.

Painting is Alexandre Cabanel’s Cléopâtre testant ses poisons sur des condamné, French Orientalism at its most fantastical.

 Chanel No. 22 was introduced in 1922, a year after 5.  Notes are orange blossom, peach, citrus, orchid, rose, ylang-ylang, sandalwood, vetiver, vanilla.  This is my favorite Chanel, hands down, no question, no room for quarrelling.  There is a softness in it that is exquisitely tender, while the aldehydes bubble around it like smitten teenage boys - for some reason I think of a cross between Scarlett and Miss Ellen in Gone With the Wind, feminine in ways that we’ve forgotten how to be feminine, the sorrow and disappointment of life put to one side so you can really live and love with no excuses.  For this scent,  after reading some rough-n-tumble fragrance “discussion” in various places about versions, I decided to compare the pre-Les Exclusifs version with the new Les Exclusifs and the vintage parfum.  Between the pre-LE and the post-LE version, the pre-LE is much richer, it seems fuller, especially on the open. As they dry down, I detect less of a difference, perhaps more incense in the pre-LE, but the minor emphasis on some others notes seems to be a little changed up.  For me, it’s not enough to make purists pay a bazillion bucks for the pre-LE version, but I’m sure 30-40 of you stand ready to tell me how dunderheaded I am not to notice the subtle shift in notes from one to the other and that the incense is…. blah, blah… yes, I’m an idjit sometimes, but my nose thinks both version are gorgeous and within a fly’s wing of being the same.  

The parfum version of 22, however, is worth finding, if you are a big 22 fan.  I believe they don’t make it anymore - of course -  so be prepared to pay top dollar on eBay to get it, which is where I got mine.  The aldehydes seem tamped down in the parfum, and all of the floral notes seem imbued with a surreal light that focuses on each note and lifts it, making it more of a prayer of gratitude than a perfume. If this were readily available, I would spritz it wildly and go dancing naked in the streets, it’s just unfathomable bliss.  Sorry, I try to squelch my raptorous praise for things, and especially for perfumes that are rarer than Virgins at Denver East High School, but… it makes me want to shout “This is freaking gorgeous!!!” from the rooftops.

 22, both of the edt versions, have tremendous sillage, while the parfum sticks close to you.  But you could not go wrong with any one of the three. This is truly the treasure, in my opinion, of the Chanel line, bar none.