Okay, your assignment for next Monday – hey, why should I do all the work?!? No, seriously, I like to read your responses. So – the assignment, suggested by Maria last week (and with a nod to Now Smell This, who just did something similar on Friday): it has come to our attention in the blogosphere that many of you have made sniffing expeditions and/or unsniffed purchases based on The Guide. Also, Patty says anecdotal evidence from The Perfumed Court suggests that people are sampling highly-rated fragrances. I’d like a report next Monday on how your sniffage/blind buys worked out for you. Alternately, tell me about your latest foray or unsniffed purchase prompted by a review that I or another blogger did. Next Monday, don’t forget!

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris – I love that bottle. I love Guerlain. I love fig. I’m fond of iris. This would seem tailor-made for me, and yet it’s a disappointment. Notes are bergamot, grapefruit, iris, fig, violet, milky notes, woods, vetiver and vanilla. The light milky fig (along the lines of BBW Brown Sugar and Fig) meets the Guerlain powdery heliotrope and then the fig mostly disappears after ten minutes. I drenched it on the second and third times – I’m talking my whole arm, wet – and still it didn’t stick around long. What’s left is like “An Impression of” the Guerlain powdery-heliotrope base. An Impression of Guerlain Meteorites, I guess? The drydown, once the powder fades, is kind of woody and interesting, like Kenzo Tokyo in the first 90 seconds before it implodes into a crappy fresh scent. If we’d skipped some of the powder, I’d be happy, but this is just too much powder and not enough interest for me.

Aqua Allegoria Laurier Reglisse - and this one surprised me in the opposite way – by pleasing me quite a bit. I’m not wild for anise, but this one is refreshing – notes of bergamot, orange blossom, licorice, bay laurel, woods, violet, galbanum and amber. The licorice is bright rather than candied and is pretty much gone after the first three minutes on me, leaving a not-particularly-sweet, leafy green woody smell that I think would be just the ticket in the summer heat. Nice – I might buy this on discount. Lasting power is so-so, and if I’m saying that, me of the scent-grabbing skin, I wonder what normal people get – five minutes?

Let me say again: I love Sephora. In addition to an increasing number of small bottles for less than $50, this last visit yielded a $50 four-bottle gift set containing Prada regular, Intense, Tendre and Homme. How great is that?

Moschino Cheap & Chic I Love Love (in the orange and blue Olive Oyl bottle) is sort of like D&G Light Blue, only more floral and even more appealing to me, and I like Light Blue. It’s Light Blue’s more gracious older sister. If you like Light Blue in theory, but after two hours its pervasive Light-Blue-ness starts to work your last nerve, you might want to consider trying this. Notes are grapefruit, orange, lemon, redcurrant, tea rose, muguet, cinnamon leaves, musk, cedar, tonka wood, created by Olivier Cresp in 2004. Every time I sniff it I wonder, why don’t I own this thing? And then I remember why an hour later, because my only complaint is it gets a little sweeter than I like in the drydown, although it’s not so sweet by mainstream standards. I am crazy for that bottle, though, and if I run across some cheap I’ll probably buy it. In the meantime, I sniffed the new one, Hippy Fizz, and come on – look at that bottle — based solely on appearances, I don’t even care what it smells like, I want it. Notes are: raspberry, rose, violet leaves, magnolia, lotus, cedar and oakmoss. I’ll take their word for the cedar and oakmoss – on me it is the sweet, fruity floral you’d expect from the first five notes. In terms of artistic merit, Hippy Fizz is the fragrance equivalent of Pez, or Sour Patch Kids candy – and be honest, don’t you ever want a mouthful of Pez instead of a mouthful of, I don’t know, organic, fair-trade shade-grown artisanal dark chocolate? I know I do. I couldn’t pick it out of a lineup, it could just as easily be one of the Escada summer LEs, it’s a little fresh on me.

Finally, there was Oscar Fresh Vanilla for Women, which I tried at Bloomie’s and which she assured me was a special Limited Addition and Very Rare and I better buy it now or I’ll never see it again! Notes are: bergamot, blackcurrant, rose, marshmallow, orange blossom, vanilla, Peru balsam, musk. When I looked online I realized there have been a whole series of these Oscar things I’ve never seen – bamboo, pink lily, citrus, mocha chip, etc. Okay, not mocha chip.

Marshmallow. Marshmallow, for Pete’s sake. Honestly, though? It was kind of fun – it smells like a marshmallow you’ve toasted on a stick until it’s nicely browned, so it loses some sweetness and has a bit of that burnt smell – with a musky finish. It’s like Demeter did a scent called Toasted Marshmallow (you could layer it with Bonfire!), or CdG added it to their Sweet series. I know, I know. I must be losing my marbles. Off to apply Kolnisch Juchten to regain my senses.

PS For Mother’s Day my darling children gave me various items they made lovingly by hand in their art classes. I gave myself that Stuart Weitzman purse in the photo up there. I’ve coveted their shoes in that particular, iconic color – Red Quasar, a pearlized lipstick red – for years, but the shoes are usually either flats or 4-inch heels, and I want something in between. Then I saw the purse and knew: It Was Destiny.

I was unable to make it to the Sniffapalooza 2008 Spring Fling, but I did go on a sniffing expedition last week in New York City with a couple of lovely friends from makeupalley.com. One of the fragrances I was determined to sample was Guerlain’s Mitsouko, after reading and listening to Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez wax rhapsodic about how it is, in their opinions, the most spectacular perfume in existence.

I preordered Perfumes: The Guide from amazon.com back in January after reading about it online. I must first say that I’ve admired Luca Turin since reading Chandler Burr’s The Emperor of Scent and Mr. Turin’s now defunct blog. I wasn’t necessarily interested in what he was saying about specific perfumes; I greatly admired his writing style and his ability to describe scents in ways I cannot, no matter how many cups of coffee I drink or how many synonyms I look up in my trusty thesaurus. His style is so effortless, it seems like the words just come tumbling out like ice cubes from the fridge dispenser. I’ve written a great many essays and research papers over the course of the past 8 years spent earning my Bachelors and Masters degrees in English Literature, and when I look back at some of them, including one that I wrote last year that a professor enthusiastically suggested I try to publish, I wonder: where the hell did these come from? I have no idea how I ever wrote them, let alone got decent grades for them. And then it hit me: the grades are just as subjective as the papers, given that they are read and graded by different individuals, just like the perfumes Turin and Sanchez were either loving or hating in their book. This thought stayed with me the entire time I was sniffing my way through Manhattan. Now, I will recount some loves, hates and disappointments, bearing in mind that these are my opinions, and not those of any other individual.

We started the day at Barney’s and I was intent on purchasing a bottle of the newly re-issued Nana de Bary Green, which I love, but was deprived of most of my last bottle by the silly bulb atomizer. Bulb atomizers are evil little things and should not ever be used, even when spraying pesticides. I lost about three-quarters of this wonderful crisp-green spicy scent to evaporation. The other scent I was hot on the trail of was Serge Lutens’ newest export, Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre. I’ve read all the tepid reviews, but since you all now know what a Serge hound I am, I was intent on loving it. And, it is spectacular on me: lots of smoky tea, honey and tart ginger. I’d love to layer this with Fumerie Turque, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to open my bell jar…
From Barney’s we made a quick stop at the Hermes boutique across the street. I was curious about the newest Hermessence scent, Brin de Reglisse. I love lavender and black licorice, but not necessarily in concert with each other. Sadly, this was all black licorice on me, and I wasn’t about to spend $200 to smell like a bag of Nibs. I also wanted to give Osmanthe Yunnan a whirl, since I adore Parfum d’Empire’s Osmanthus Interdite. That one too, was a bit disappointing. On me, Osmanthus Interdite has much more depth and personality. In addition, the only Hermessence that has any tenacity on my skin is Ambre Narguilé, which I love. My other favorite, Rose Ikebana, is gorgeous, but disappears much too quickly.

Our next stop was Bergdorf Goodman, home of the venerable Guerlain boutique and countless other delightful and expensive brands. I used to work in this area of Manhattan years ago, and I remember when the cosmetics department at Bergdorf’s consisted of maybe half a dozen small counters, and a fragrance area that was tucked into an out-of-the-way corner you’d surely miss if you didn’t know it was there. Their current beauty floor is paradise with one caveat: some overly aggressive sales associates who tend to swarm like mosquitoes over a puddle of stagnant water. In my experience, the fragrance-hawkers are pretty soft-sell compared to the makeup and skin care brigade, who attempt to club you over the head and drag you away to their respective counters. Something tells me they’re not selling as many $1300 vats of Crème de la Mer as they once were.

Before we approached the Guerlain boutique, we stopped to smell the new Chanel Exclusif, Sycomore. I must reveal that I have never been particularly fond of any Chanel scents, especially No. 5 (Turin’s and Sanchez’s other 5-star favorite). But there are actually a few of the Exclusif scents I like: No. 18, Bel Respiro and especially Coromandel. No. 5 has never worked for me in any incarnation, even the new Eau Premiere, which starts off bright and citrusy, but dries down to, well, the original No.5. I liked Sycomore instantly, even though I was experiencing mutiny on my skin between the previous scents I’d tested. I was pretty sure I wanted to buy it, but wanted to wait until after I deliberated on Mitsouko.

At the Guerlain boutique I asked for a spritz of Mitsouko Eau de Parfum, as well as the Eau de Toilette. I elected to stay away from the Parfum in the event that I would react violently to it. One usually does not want to toss one’s cookies at the feet of just anyone, particularly in the upscale setting that is Bergdorf’s. Conveniently, the bathrooms are located mere steps from Guerlain, but I still did not want to take a chance.

Mitsouko EDT did not last very long on me – I didn’t get much from it except for the peach note Turin and Sanchez spoke of, and alcohol. It literally disappeared in minutes. The EDP was another story: it camped out on the back of my left hand, built a fire and was still smoldering the next morning before I finally showered it off. The verdict: not me; unless I were to throw out every single pair of my jeans, every t-shirt, every pair of comfortable shoes and decide to stock my wardrobe with Chanel suits, pillbox hats, white gloves, lady-like pumps and go for high tea every afternoon at 4 o’ clock. I am just not the Mitsouko kind of woman.

Wardrobe and lifestyle issues aside, I do appreciate Mitsouko on a different level; it truly is a beautiful scent. Unlike the many aldehyde and chypre scents I normally avoid, the EDP in all its glory never gave me a headache or offended me so that I couldn’t wait to scrub it off. I even asked the opinion of an especially pushy Bergdorf sales associate, who I unintentionally let wreck my less-than-a-week-old manicure with an Yves San Laurent Beauté nail polish pen. I bet if Mitsouko was an YSL fragrance, she would have tried to sell me a gallon of it. I think her opinion was something to the effect of, “It is beautiful, but it’s not you.” And, I never bought that ridiculous nail polish pen. However, I did go back to Bergdorf’s later on that day to snag the very last bottle of Sycomore. Despite it being a Chanel scent, it’s much more “me” than Mitsouko will ever be.

From Bergdorf’s it was on to Henri Bendel. I have been longing to try Isabel Capeto’s first fragrance since reading Patty’s glowing review of it. I must defer to her description from her post back on January 7 of this year (More NYC – Part II), and agree that it is wearable without being generic and that bottle is just the bee’s knees. Since Patty’s review, there is now Isabel Capeto Perfume II in a white bottle identical to the red one. Unfortunately, the second scent is nowhere near as good as the first one; I was afraid to test it on my skin after smelling it on the scent strip: it was the very frightening scent of grapefruit juice gone bad. Unless you happen to enjoy an exceptionally bitter citrus scent – think bitterness that surpasses Frederic Malle’s Bigarade Concentrée, stay far, far away from this one.

By the time I’d doused myself in Isabel Capeto and sniffed a few more of the Memoire Liquide scents that I had the opportunity to sample (and buy) at a Sniffapalooza preview event last year (Mystique and Soixante-Six are woody-hippie fabulous), I started getting heavy-duty nasal fatigue. While my cohorts were still busy sniffing away, I was mostly snorting the jar of coffee beans in the L’Artisan Parfumeur alcove. Granted, I was the most enthusiastic sampler, having at least half a dozen scents lingering on my skin. That’s the problem I think every serious scent aficionado faces on a regular basis. You sniff and spray, collecting those paper scent strips like playing cards, manage to keep a poker face for as long as humanly possible, until you reach that breaking point when your nasal passages cry “uncle” and you can no longer handle any more new smells. I don’t care what anyone says, but even a prolonged snort of the most potent coffee beans can’t stave off nasal fatigue after too many hours of serious sniffing. I think the heavy-duty rose in Etat Libre d’Orange’s Rossy de Palma scent did me in. Although their Tom of Finland scent, which I inadvertently kept calling “Tom of Maine”, with its clean, dry cedary goodness, left me another $90 lighter. And, many thanks to my dear friend M for buying me the coveted bottle of Isabel Capeto for my upcoming birthday.

After Bendel’s, we headed across the street to Takashimaya. At that point, I felt like someone locked me away in that Frederic Malle sniffing booth at Barney’s. My feet were killing me and despite the copious coffee bean-snorting, my nose was still staging a revolt. In Tak, the only scents I was interested in were the Neil Morris ones. A lot of people in the blogosphere and on the chat boards are raving about his extensive collection of scents, but the ones that I’ve smelled have been a bit disappointing. I remember meeting him at the Sniffapalooza 2007 Spring Fling, and thinking he was a very nice guy, but the few scents of his that I sampled were not very inspiring. I re-visited his scent, Clear, at Tak and felt the same way a year later. His range is so extensive; it would take weeks to evaluate all of them; someday, maybe, when my nose is not quite as tortured.

When my friends and I embarked on our fragrant journey, I was sure it would not be as exhausting as the Sniffapalooza extravaganza tends to be. I have yet to participate in both days consecutively since I am usually comatose by the end of the first one; my kudos to all the ladies and gentlemen who manage to make it though both. Maybe my close proximity to New York City has something to do with my lack of stamina. I am lucky in that I can hop on a train or in my car and be at Bergdorf’s doorstep, or any number of fragrant establishments, in under an hour.

As for my “suggestions”, I will conclude by saying that perfume, whether it is thought to be good or bad, is an intensely subjective and personal endeavor, just like art and literature. What Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez happen to like or love might not be what I like or love. Suggestions are just that; there are no hard and fast rules, and it is up to you, the individual, to interpret them as you see fit. I didn’t get an “A” on every paper I wrote as a student, and I never expect everyone to agree with every single one of my opinions. The beauty of life, whether we go through it fragrantly or not, is that we have the ability to make choices. We celebrate our individuality with the choices we make, and it is ultimately our very personal decision to ignore suggestions or consider them. Please, feel free to tell me to stick mine where the sun doesn’t shine. To that, I will always say thank you.

I dropped the Big Cheese off at the airport yesterday for his trip to Thailand, China — and Burma. The devastation from Sunday’s cyclone (15,000 dead was the last count I read) changes his plans, but he’s not sure how yet. He has friends in Yangon, and the already limited communications are down. He’s going to get to BKK and see if he can bring something in (medicines, medical supplies) that might help, and try to discern whether his presence there for the cleanup would be a help or a hindrance. He’d like to help. Whenever I stick him on one of those planes and drive off I always get this weird feeling, like I’ve looked down and discovered one of my arms has gone missing. He loves Asia, and I could no more ask him to stay home than I could ask him to stop breathing. But still.

Since I was out there in that neck of the woods I figured I might as well stop at the Hermes Boutique and smell Un Jardin Apres La Mousson, the newest in the Jardin series. I like the other two a lot, but was not sure what to expect with this one. I have been fascinated by how much the responses and reviews have varied – folks are all over the place with their comments about Mousson. I can’t think of the last time something had such a wide range of descriptions – maybe SL Chypre Rouge?

Mousson’s notes are cardamom, coriander, pepper, ginger and vetiver accord. I had the SA at Hermes spritz my arm (they were “out of samples,” natch) and waited. The top is all about the spices – the cardamom, coriander and pepper, combined with the sharp heat of ginger, are astonishing. I’ve read several complaints about its being sort of wan and watery, and standing there sniffing those bits I was baffled – it is strong on me, bone dry and in its own peculiar way, quite lovely.

I still had my nose stuck to my wrist in thought when WHOMP!!! – the arrival of the (unlisted) aquatic melon accord dropped in. “Dropped in” as in, someone broke a freaking melon over my head. I kid you not, I startled the SA with my muffled scream – it was not clear to me before that moment how utterly nasty I find that smell. My stomach lurched and I jerked my head back and beat a hasty retreat from the store.

I actually contemplated scrubbing it, that’s just how horrifying it is, but stuck it out. And let me tell you, you people owe me for this one. If there is a hell, it definitely has a melon accord. On Now Smell This recently, a commenter coined the term “fruital” for brutally fruity. Mousson is one of the most fruital fragrances I have smelled in recent memory.

Eventually (two hours?) the aquamelon starts to meld into what is a very soft, clean vetiver. Six hours later I can still smell it — aquamelonvetiver. Once it is gone from my arm, I never, ever want to smell it again. Your Mileage May Vary.

While I was out there I ran across Givenchy Vetyver, so I put that on my left hand, with Guerlain Vetiver on my right hand for comparison. They’re totally different – Guerlain is more like a cologne with a vetiver note, whereas Givenchy is pretty much a straight vetiver (vetiflore?). In The Guide LT gives it four stars and calls it “wonderfully straightforward” and a “quality vetiver.” I get almost zero development – a little zingy at the top, maybe some citrus, and then a pleasantly earthy, arid (dirt-like, not “dirty”) vetiver. I am not the queen of vetiver, but it’s really nice – there’s something about it that makes my mouth water — and you vetiver freaks might want to dig some up. I’ll take the Guerlain, thanks.

On my way out of the mall I experienced my second fragrance haunting in 24 hours – the air in the corridor all around me was infused with the smell of a perfume I recognized instantaneously but – maddeningly – could not place, like having a word on the tip of my tongue. I went back into Bloomingdales and sniffed around, looking for it. The second I smelled it, I knew – Dolce & Gabbana’s The One, with its distinctive warm, musky base. I like The One a lot, I’ll probably keep an eye peeled for a cheapie bottle next fall when it’ll feel right. I wonder if someone dropped one in the hallway?

And last night, in the middle of anxious dreams, I woke up to my first fragrance haunting – the reassuring smell from …. well, from when? It was a happy smell. What was that smell? Definitely a fragrance. I lay there in the dark, in the small hours, and contemplated it. Something a friend wore that I loved. Eventually I realized the smell of some random lotion I’d put on at bedtime had conjured my ghost, but what was the original scent? And then I remembered and it bloomed in front of me in the dark – Tatiana. Diane Von Furstenberg, I think Tatiana’s her daughter? Seriously, anyone on the planet remember that? Weird asymmetrical bottle? I should go google it and see if it exists. I feel a burst of joy just thinking about it. I remember it was really sweet and a little raspy and a little green. Jasmine? I have no idea. It’s probably total crap. Looks like they’ve got it on Beautyencounter for ten bucks. I don’t know, maybe I should leave my happy memory intact? Tonight, I’m hoping for the Ghost of Guerlains Past.

image of monks with umbrellas: traveltolao.com

First, winners for the sample of Musc Nomade from Annick Goutal:  Vida, Dusan and Marina!  Just hit the contact us over on the left, get me your snail mail address, and the sample shall be yours! 

You guys are always so super-helpful to me and everyone who reads us, so here I am to call on you again for some help.

My youngest son’s high school graduation is coming up soon.   This day is totally my youngest son’s day, but then I think… isn’t it a little bit of my day too?  We made it this far, and soon… too soon we’re going our separate ways. Him to find his life out there, and me to leap joyfully around my house that I’ll have to myself. But it just won’t be the same anymore when he’s not in my house every day, playing his guitar, serenading my life with his laughter, joy and music, nor will I have to worry about him when he takes my camera and tripod out until 1a for some night photography, nor will I be woken up by his big brother (who is moving out… again and for good… in July) scaring him at 2 a.m..  It will be so much fun to watch the life chooses, to let him find his own way through, but him going so soon after my oldest son moves back out is, well, a little weird and disconcerting, and I need the perfect scent for it.

It must be joyful, with a reach back into memory.  It must be full of love because he and his older brother carry my heart around in their bodies.  It must be strong so I won’t start weeping like a flipping idiot. I did threaten Harry that I was going to start sobbing inconsolably and very loudly just to embarrass him, and he laughed and said, “Bring it, it won’t bother me, that would be fun!”

So what perfume do you wear to celebrate the ending of my live-with-me mom years and the beginning of watching both of my little ducks go quacking off into whatever life they choose?  I’m leaning towards either Mitsouko vintage parfum or Diorling parfum.  The thoughts?

I think I have remarkably few bottles for a fragrance obsessive. I’m not going to name a number because (like sexual partners) no matter what I say, some of you would be horrified at the sheer wanton profligacy of my spending, while others of you would think, is that all she’s got? And she calls herself a perfume blogger. My general rule is, I have to work through a decant (assuming I can get one) before I buy a bottle. Since I already own more fragrance than I could wear in several lifetimes, I don’t “need” any more bottles.

But I continue to buy them. In the last four weeks I have bought:

A ginormous (quart? liter?) bottle of Muelhens 4711, because I’ve been wearing it since high school, my small bottle ran out last summer, and the local Perfumania had three sizes at deep, deep discount – I think I paid $18 for something that’s almost the size of a standard bottle of vodka. (Well, my standard. Your standards may be different.) I’ve never seen it there before and may never see it again. I told my Greek barber about my find and I am pretty sure he sent his wife over there to clean them out. One of my favorite things about his barbershop is the bottles of 4711 sitting on the counter in front of each chair, waiting to be splashed.

A bottle of KenzoAmour Indian Holi because rumor has it it’s an LE (which will probably turn out to be a lie), I thought it would make a cheerful, floral-incense alternative to my usual citrus summer fare, and I bought it from Gail, the long-suffering, lovely SA at the local Nordstrom who gives me tons of samples. Yup — paid full retail. Go ahead, laugh.

A bottle of Estee Lauder Bronze Goddess Eau Fraiche even though I have a generous decant I will probably never work through. I bought it because EL was having a really great Gift With Purchase thingy at Bloomies, and I love me a GWP. I cheerfully admit the lameness of my reasoning on this one.

Idole de Lubin, because right after I fell in love with it, it popped up on eBay. I only saved maybe 25 bucks off retail. If there’s something wrong with it (and often there is with frags on eBay) it won’t have been much of a bargain, will it?

L’Artisan Safran Troublant (the teeny bottle) because Patty bought the Epices coffret and mentioned she only wanted the Poivre and Piment, and I was getting ready to buy another decant.

Claude Montana Just Me – unsniffed purchase from online retailer, because LT said in The Guide (in his review of my beloved Worth Courtesan, which got three stars) that it was “reminiscent of the sadly discontinued Montana Just Me.” Hmmm. Well, they are similar in that both are fragrances for women, and the resemblance stops there. To my nose, Just Me is reminiscent of peppered toilet bowl cleaner. And not in a good way. Damn you, LT.

Jo Malone Dark Amber & Ginger Lily and JM Lotus Blossom & Water Lily – because they are (allegedly) LEs, and what if they run out??! Remember to tease me about this if/when they wind up in the regular line, and/or the supply goes on forever.

Okay, your turn! A little research, please, for my own nefarious purposes. Please tell me why you sprung for your last fragrance(s) – more precisely, why did you purchase it at that exact moment? (On sale, DWB {drunk while bidding}, rare fragrance opportunity, unsniffed purchase prompted by The Guide, pre-date fragrance emergency…) I’d also be interested in whether that was the first time you’d smelled it, you bought it unsniffed, or whether you’d been thinking about it for awhile. For example: my 4711 was a replacement bottle of a long-time favorite, the EL I’d already sniffed a couple times and decided I liked, and the Indian Holi was completely spontaneous impulse purchase the first time I’d smelled it.

* * *

Avon ad image from Corning Museum of Glass (cmog.org)

A bottle of Annick Goutal’s Musc Nomade just landed in my hands… and!

Perfect. 

Created by Isabelle Doyen with Camille Goutal, it has notes of white musks (muscone, angelica, ambrette), tonka bean, almond accents, labdanum, and Bombay wood (a papyrus derivative) *taken from Now Smell This.

Some musks, like Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur, are too sweet or oily.  I like MR, but after a couple of hours, it wears on my nerves.  Some musks like CB Musk Reinvention may be too harsh for most people or too not sweet, relying more on the musk without a lot of varnish. 

Musc Nomade is the perfect musk for me. It has just a little foody input from the ambrette, tonka and almond, laying on a wood, incense and musk base.  It doesn’t shout, but it whispers of sexuality, it shows a little bit of white lace instead of the top of the thong sticking out of the jeans.  There is a softness to it, but with enough musk to not make it dainty or feminine.  It stays close to the skin and smells just like the sun  on your skin — wait, not your skin, someone you love’s skin.

It’s very much a Goutal scent, understated and finished.

Sorry for the short post today, but work, going out for some fun and some insomnia has taken its toll here at the end of the week. So let’s do a giveaway of three samples of the Musc Nomade. Just drop a note in the comments to be entered!

Anyone keeping an eye out for alarming signs indicating the coming of the End Times need look no further than my recent infatuation with some Jo Malone scents. I gave up on Jo Malone quite awhile ago, not too far into my fragrance addiction – somewhere after French Nectarine, Verbena & Lime. Or maybe it was Orange Blossom, Basil & Lavender. I forget. An “edgy” JM scent like Pomegranate Noir was notable to me solely for its stubborn refusal to leave my skin no matter how much I scrubbed.

Then I smelled the new Jo Malone Kohdo Wood Collection at the Sniffa. The Collection contains two fragrances: Dark Amber & Ginger Lily, and Lotus Blossom & Water Lily, and I was stunned to find myself falling for Dark Amber & Ginger Lily. It’s a heavy amber, a Jo Malone, an allegedly limited edition – three strikes against it. I meant to buy some, forgot, and last week I found myself wandering over to Bloomie’s for a new pair of yoga pants and another sniff, because I couldn’t put it out of my mind.

Dark Amber & Ginger Lily is the night-time “sensual” scent of the pair, and features cardamom, pink pepper (which is in everything now, did they pass some law requiring it? not that I’m complaining), ginger, night blooming jasmine, orchid, water lily, rose, black amber, white pepperwood, leather, patchouli, sandalwood and Kyara incense accord. The JM boutique Sales Associate was at lunch when I stopped by, and I was amused at the very nice Chanel SA’s insistence on the “nighttime-only” appropriateness of the Dark Amber – it was pretty clear she thought the circumstances under which you’d want to wear something like that were severely limited. I know some of you have already fallen in love with it. The time of year for its launch seems wrong (it strikes me as a fall scent) but it is a wonderfully smooth, seamless mélange of amber, intense dark florals and woods, creamy, and in my opinion quite a departure from what I have smelled from the line. The incense and spices are strongest at the opening — the incense is lovely in both scents, but I feel obligated to point out that if you’re interested solely because of the incense, this would probably disappoint. I’d describe it as amber/woody with an incense twist. I get more woody incense right at the tail end of the day, after the florals depart. There is a faint odd note like tanning oil or milky coconut that drifts in and out for the first hour before disappearing. I can’t pick out any of the notes listed, and it doesn’t go through a ton of development – it’s warm and rich, and I can’t think of anything else quite like it. If it were a color, it would be a deep red. Contrary to the Chanel SA’s opinion I can see wearing this a lot — it’s sultry by JM standards, I guess, but Poison or Fracas it is not. Having said that, it’s got some decent sillage and might not be the best choice for close quarters at work, particularly if your cube-mate’s idea of heaven is a light citrus cologne.

The Lotus Blossom & Water Lily is the “energizing daytime” scent and includes aquatic notes (horrors!), grapefruit, bergamot, mandarin, lotus blossom, freesia, honeysuckle, water lily, jasmine, incense, amber, sandalwood, musk, aloeswood and guaiac wood. I knew I was buying the Dark Amber but tried on the Lotus Blossom to confirm my lack of interest, and I realized … well, there might be more to the Lotus Blossom than I thought. I put it on the way I hear a normal person wears perfume (squirt on my cleavage, one on the wrists) and went off for my yoga pants and further consideration. Fifteen minutes later I decided I needed a bottle of the Lotus Blossom as well. The citrus comes on fairly strong in the first few minutes, more grapefruit than mandarin, but then it settles into a mildly sweet, watery floral, with a enough of the woods and incense to move it in a more unisex direction and keep it interesting to me. (The aquatic bit isn’t “fresh,” that ironically-named deal-killer that smells sour, like a basket of dirty laundry.) For a relatively light scent it is tenacious – I can smell it on my clothing the following day – and it has the interesting ability to disappear and then suddenly halo around me. I think this would make an excellent, inoffensive work scent. Having discovered its tenacity on fabric, I sprayed my sheets one evening and enjoyed that as well. At $95 for 100ml, it doesn’t fill me with guilt, but you can get 30ml for $50, and anything for $50 is, essentially, free and thus doesn’t count against my perfume budget.

I have many, many scents for cooler weather, but comparatively few I want to smell in a Washington summer. In general, most florals, by the time they reach an appropriate level of lightness for the D.C. heat and humidity, are no longer interesting to me. This leaves a plethora of citrus and tea scents, many of which by definition don’t have huge lasting power. Lotus Blossom is a nice change of pace. This is one of those scents I would love some additional feedback on – I find myself quite hopelessly in its thrall, while at the same time suspecting that it is the perfume equivalent of 7-Up. By the way, they smell delicious layered.

Since I’d clearly lost my mind, and the exceedingly well-trained Jo Malone SA showed back up, I decided to sample some others. Having politely turned down most of the citrus-y JM standards, I accepted a paper strip with White Jasmine & Mint on it – and was, again, smitten. The sharp, sparkling wetness of the mint against the intense, creamy sweetness of a clean jasmine was such a perfect combination I wondered how nobody had tried it before. In The Guide, Tania Sanchez gives it three stars and calls it “an optimistic but crude cologne” (an assessment I agree with, by the way; I have a lot of three-star scents I love) and says is has been done before – and better – in L’Artisan’s The Pour Une Ete. I don’t have a sample here to smell, but my recollection was that the L’Artisan was more about the tea, and less minty. Also, Tania says JM “tries to make everything last longer by throwing in a tenacious musk” which is “vigorous but unnecessary.” To which I respond, and that’s part of what I love about it – L’Artisan lasts about 20 minutes on me. White Jasmine & Mint eventually collapses in on itself and loses its mint after an hour, and then it’s kind of flat. You can’t keep reapplying or you’ll kill yourself eventually with the jasmine. Nonetheless, I see at least a decant in my future.

The Jo Malones are all about layering. I like to layer, but am (perversely) annoyed by a house that deliberately encourages me to do that – shouldn’t their fragrances be good enough to stand alone? They’re just trying to sell more product! This thinking makes no sense, I realize. Anyway, the SA talked about layering the lighter/sweeter scents with some of the scents on the darker end of the spectrum, and if you haven’t tried it already, let me heartily recommend their Wild Fig & Cassis layered with the Black Vetyver Café, which – what kind of idiot am I?!? How have I missed that one? I’ll need some of that this fall, although I’ll test drive it first — tons of complaints about lasting power on Black Vetyver. How’s it work for you? On the other hand, Robin says the Kohdo Wood ones don’t last that long on her either. I must have some sort of freaky, molecular-vacuum-lock skin; I may complain all the time, but it’s seldom about lasting power. All of these lasted a full day (on in the morning; still there at bedtime) on me, and I could still smell them if I sniffed for them in the a.m.

For another take on the scents, please see Robin’s review from yesterday on Now Smell This.

image: jomalone.com

First, I have a new photoblog, and you can find it here.    I took the photo above when we were in NYC, and Judith and I were resting our feet outside of Bendel’s, sniffing the changes in Tom of Finland on our skin.  When we go to Europe the end of May and first half of June, that’s where we’ll upload all our pictures.  Now, I’m pretty new’ish getting back into photography, so don’t expect too much. I did it many years ago in high school… well, okay, decades.  After high school, I didn’t have the money to get my own SLR camera, so dropped the hobby.  When I stumbled back into it recently, I’ve been having a blast seeing the world through a camera lens.

In the future, when there are get-togethers, that’s where we’ll post the photos from those.

The most fabulous discovery I’ve gotten from reading Luca and Tania’s book so far is Yohji  Homme.  Notes of coffee, rum, licorice, cinnamon and leather.  This is probably the most beautifully, wonderfully addictive, warm scent I’ve sniffed in ages.  Jean-Michel Duriez was the perfumer on it, and it is showing up as discontinued, which is just a travesty.  Beautifully blended, it starts out perfectly balanced between those somewhat strong, gourmandy notes, none of them dominating the other, so it really doesn’t feel foody, just like a warm nose hug.  Some of it reminds me of Bond’s New Haarlem, but it’s not as harsh, woodier.  Those of you that hate licorice/anise, well, steer clear of this, chances are you won’t like it.  Either a man or a woman could wear this, but I suspect women like it more than men, though I’d love to snuggy up to a guy wearing it.  I add a very, very enthusiastic two thumbs up for Yohji Homme.

We gave y’all three scents to sniff, and we are posting your reviews on those scents. Y’all had a lot to say, so this was really fun for us to do!

Clinique Happy

• Am I going to hell if I say I like this fragrance? It’s cheerful. I always get compliments on it. It’s one of those summer scents that works if you want something undemanding and fun, like a gal-pal you don’t make plans with but always have a good time with, spending a Saturday morning window shopping.
• Happy is a harmless floral, best on a very young woman. Keep in mind that it doesn’t keep well; the citrus top notes fade with time.
• Once smelled this on a waitress at a local restaurant, and it smelled divine on her. But on me, Happy is not so, well, happy! It smells harsh, strong and chemical.
• I had the misfortune to try Clinique Happy in a Foley’s (back before Macy’s) when I was young and impressionable and was lead to believe that Clinique was an upscale makeup line…*shudder* My thoughts were somewhere between “Does this contain DEET?” to “The horror! The horror!” Nothing but mosquite repellant.
• Pretty and inoffensive. I smell a not-quite-realistic orange (more like powdered orange drink mix) and some sweet, clear florals (freesia?). It reminded me of something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on…and then it came to me. Bond No. 9’s new Union Square! Not exactly the same, but very similar in style. Plus Tang.
• Soapy, shower fresh scent. Easily wearable. I’m kind of over this one, but I don’t dislike it, it’s just that I used to like it much more.
• orange. If you want to be a giant orange…
• I dislike the initial fakey blast but once it settles down it’s very pretty, milky skin scent is really pleasant.

Clinique Aromatics Elixir

• For 20+ years I’ve tried to love this fragrance. I hate it. Picked up a bottle of Pure Parfum (perfect condition) last week at an estate sale for a whopping 30 cents. Sprayed just a touch in the air just inside the front door. THANK GOD it was a warm day. Fans going for an hour, with all the windows open….me outside. El O came home and said “wow! the house smells nice!”. Proof that there is something for everyone.
• Why spend a zillion bucks on Tom Ford Moss Breches when there’s Aromatics Elixir, its original? Be sure you give this only to someone who can carry a strong chypre. Someone gave my then-eighty-year-old mother a set, and it was just loud perfume overload.
• I used to hate this one, because it smelled so overpowering on everyone who wore it. But I discovered a secret: Just one spritz to the chest will do. It lasts all day, and smells like a fine French fragrance. It does, it really does!
• I have never hated a perfume as much as I hate Clinique’s Aromatics Elixir. Since I sold Clinique way back when, I HAD to wear it at the counter and I thought I would die. Anytime I read that something else smells like AE, I automatically know that I will hate it to death.
• I’m glad that I gave this one a good, long try. On a paper strip, it always seemed rather rough and scary. But on my skin, it turns into a smooth, velvety, classic chypre. It’s herby and casually sophisticated in a finely-tailored-tweed-suit sort of way.
• Hard core. This is a scent for people who want to announce their arrival with a megaphone. I hadn’t tried this in a really long time and it blew me away. There is a lot going on in this one. This screams 70’s all the way. There are some massive flowers in there (ylang ylang and jasmine, tuberose) that along with the oakmoss (and some really green notes too) really overwhelm. This is not a fragrance for the faint hearted. Bottom line, it’s a classy hippie scent that really makes a statement, but I would never wear it. Actually, I did put it on my wrist, but I was not happy.
• Harsh vetiver, florals barely discernible. When this is compared to Montale’s Vetiver Oriental, it’s enough to make you weep for the abuse of the note.
• I love Aromatics Elixir! I’ve worn it off and on since it was introduced in the early 70’s. My nose isn’t capable of defining each individual component of the fragrance but on me, the patchouli note is the most predominant. My friend also wears it; on her the rose and jasmine comes forward and it is much sweeter. I get undertones of that softness too.
• I’m very happy with my sophisticated chypre and tend to wear it when I want to feel “tailored,” whether I’m wearing clothes for the office or jeans.
• This will never appeal to me no matter how many times I smell it. Its astringent, green twiggy, herbal quality smells to me like an treatment for poison ivy.

Tommy Hilfiger Tommy Girl

• Perfume Shrine and Scent Signals have some thoughts on Tommy girl today, so make sure to check it out.

• This is a great weekend fragrance! I wear it when I’m kickin’ back or hanging out with my family. It’s fresh and uplifting with a slight spiciness to it (must be the tea) that makes it interesting and fun.
• I really like Tommy Girl. It’s such a perfect scent for jeans, T-shirt and All Stars day. Fresh and clean without being annoying. I get transparent florals, which I love. This perfume exudes confidence and doesn’t try to be sexy, because of this, to me it is. It’s like the way some people are the sexiest when they’re dressed down and in jeans - not trying too hard? That’s the way I feel about Tommy Girl. Oddly enough, my Mom steals spritzes of this one every once in a while, so I guess you could say that it’s not an exclusively “young” scent. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I don’t think it’s exclusively a “girl” scent either.
• I have a coworker who always sprays on a generous amount of the same perfume every day. I always assumed that it was something by the Gap. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it did strike me as harsh. One day, my curiosity overcame my shyness and I asked her what it was. Her answer: Tommy Girl. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t recognized it! Tommy Girl was my first real perfume, a Christmas gift when I was thirteen years old. I still have my near-full bottle from back then, so I must not have worn it much. I have some current Tommy Girl on my wrist right now, and it is the same as my bottle at home. I can describe it in one word: Soap. If I have to be a little more specific: Flowery soap. It smells like I’ve just washed my hands. It’s not a bad smell, by any means, and as clean-shower-fresh-soap scents go, this one is quite good, but if I want to smell like soap, I’ll take a shower!
• I gave this to my 16 year old daughter a couple years ago so I’ve been smelling it wafting through the kitchen at a very early hour for a couple of years now. On a good day it is bright, fresh and pretty — perfect for her age and I like smelling it on her. Tommy Girl has a high headache factor though and there is no way I can agree with the experts that it is extraordinary, or a “masterpiece”. It’s not interesting enough for that.

nose image: etc.usf.edu

Overmuch lately, I find myself ruminating on forgiveness and redemption.  How much can a person do before they have gone into the unforgivable, and there is no explanaiton or apology they can make for redemption in another person’s eyes?  It’s an individual barrier to be sure.  In my faith, we are called to forgive everything because we are all deeply flawed, and we should ask for the grace to do what we are completely unable to do when you are pig-biting mad.  No matter if you are religious or not, all of us must struggle with what to forgive, what to forget, and when it is too much.

Oh, no, you’re not going to get a Patty Soap Opera here, y’all.   

My next thought - as it should be for any good perfumista - what does forgiveness and redemption smell like?  Answering this question has been far tougher than I thought it would be.

Forgiveness smells cold and earthy, as you must set aside your own hurt coldly, take out the emotion, disengage, reach deep within your emotional capacity and rationally overlook the cracks and broken places in another.   But it must be a little bit warm because out of the cold must come pity and compassion enough to heat the heart to give genuine forgiveness.  It smells like Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist.

Redemption must smell of hope and promise, going on without ever forgetting what has gone before.  It must mix regret with desperation, and at its core must be the smell of humanity, slightly decaying, but beautiful for all of its flaws.  I turned over a lot of scents in my mind for this, but finally settled on CB I Hate perfume Cradle of Light or Strange Invisible Perfumes Lady Day…

… and I put them together, side by side, running my nose from my elbow to my hand, and I can smell the limits of forgiveness and redemption, and there are none.

What scents go with forgiveness and redemption for you?

Musette is hard at work on the Chicago Thingy – a get-together with perfume and chocolate in Chicago on a Saturday in September/October. Have you been to Chicago? Chicago has: great food; interesting architecture; excellent theater; amazing shopping. And did I mention chocolate? And perfume? Anyway, that is Musette in the photo, and … wow, look at her, does she not slay? (Musette, is that your bike? I think so.) She is working on a day of chocolate and perfumage including potentially: Saks, L’Artisan, Barneys, Nordstrom, Godiva, Lindt, Ethel’s, Vosges, Sarah’s Candies … wait, sorry, I had to wipe the drool off my keyboard. We’ll also put together a list of other things to see/do/visit, in the perfume/chocolate world and beyond. I took the architecture tour on the river and loved it. We are not calling this a Sniffa – the Karens own that name, as far as I know, so we need something else. I find Chicago Thingy amusing, but Musette quite reasonably thinks we need something more mellifluous in terms of getting the stores to sponsor stuff and cough up goodies. What do you think of Chi-cocoa Scentsation, suggested by our other fab Chicago volunteer, Shelley? Any other ideas/suggestions regarding any aspect of this thingy?

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Annick Goutal Sables seems to be enjoying a (deserved) resurgence, my having run across it recently on the shelf in various places. That’s one I thought would have gotten the chop by now, because it’s so odd, but I’m happy to discover it in the lineup next to the masculine bottles of Duel, Hadrian, Mandragore and the rest. But all the Sables in the world can’t really replace Eau de Monsieur.

I have been told several times that Annick Goutal Eau de Monsieur is discontinued, although I don’t know whether that’s true — it’s the sort of thing sales associates tell you when they don’t have any. I have never seen Monsieur in a retail store. It doesn’t appear on any of the AG websites that I can find, and it’s getting a bit harder to find on the internet. Osmoz calls it a woody chypre and lists citron, oakmoss, amber and sandalwood, a list that feels suspiciously incomplete to me.

I’m pretty sure it was tmp00 who sent me a decant of Eau de Monsieur eons ago, when I was on one of my immortelle benders; he thought it smelled like immortelle, and I agreed. Among other interesting nuggets in The Guide, I was happy to see Tania Sanchez describe Eau de Monsieur as having “the crispness of citrus, a mossy chypre background, all made interesting by a touch of the fascinating caramel-curry note of immortelle.” She labels it citrus mossy and gives it four stars.

Eau de Monsieur starts off as a very Goutal-ish confection of citrus, woods and the sprightly herbal greenness you get from Hadrian. At that point it’s merely enjoyable – the sort of thing, like a higher grade Muelhens 4711, that you’d throw on on a hot summer day. The oakmoss makes its appearance, but even then it is delicate and nuanced; despite its name, this barely qualifies as a masculine. I’d call it solidly unisex, along the lines of Duel or Hadrian. It isn’t until well into the drydown (30 minutes or so) that the immortelle begins its wonderful, distinctive dance on my skin, its maple-curry sweetness tempered beautifully by the dryness of the oakmoss.

I think in its own understated way, Eau de Monsieur is a perfect scent – managing to give just enough (but not too much) of several enjoyable aspects of perfumery. It doesn’t have the kill-me-now, 48-hour one-note persistence that Sables has, the only time immortelle has worn out its welcome, and then some. If it had more of a chypre feel it would conversely be less accessible in warm weather, which is when it seems most right, although you could argue it’s essentially seasonless. It’s a cologne that’s more than a cologne, by which I mean it’s not gone in 20 minutes, yet it retains that element of refreshment. In contrast, Dior’s Eau Noire is many things, but refreshing it is not, at least not to me. The only suggestion I can make to the house regarding Monsieur’s improvement would be to resurrect it if, in fact, it is dead, and place it prominently on the shelf at a Sephora near you.

My brother has presented me with a challenge, so I, of course, turn to all of you to see what I’ve done so far and to see if you have suggestions or additions.

Tom opened up a bar and grill recently, which is is doing an amazing business in a tiny town in Kansas called Hoxie - everyone loves his food because he’s a great cook - and he barely has time to sleep, though he is as happy as a clam,  It’s one the most fun place in the town world to go — one of those places where everyone does know your name and people talk all around the room to everyone in the restaurant instead of just across their own table.  I attribute that atmosphere to Tom’s personality, which is outgoing, brash, irreverent, and he’s one of the funniest people I’ve ever known. The logo for the bar is “Beer, Burgers and Bullshit,” and that pretty much is just the way it is. He does look a little like Sam Elliott, but don’t tell him I said that because he has a monstrous big ego that needs no further feeding and watering.  He calls me lil lil sissah (as opposed to my big sister, Shirley, who is just lil sissah), and he is generally a charming, unrepentant rogue… and he will take that as a compliment.  Of course I adore him.

Success has its problems, though. Tom would like to get rid of the Eau de Grease scent that often follows him around, and he also likes to think of himself as a stud (*shrugs*).   He wants me to put together a “Sam Elliott Sampler Pack” full of all the scents I think Sam Elliott would wear, which would then be perfect for him.. I want it to be a wide variety of types, like some musk, leather, smoke, etc. This is what I’ve got so far, please let me know if you think one of these doesn’t work or if it needs something that I’m just not thinking of:

• Serge Lutens Musc Koublai Khan - it’s pretty likely he will sniff this and say something about it smelling like his pair after he’s been working all day (the language would be much more frank and graphic than my delicate version), but I think if he waits 30 minutes, he may find himself liking it - or not, but I have to be there when he tries it.
• CB Musk Reinvention - I’m iffy on this one. It will either be a big hit or a big miss, but I still think he should try it just so I can get a read on what his skank tolerance is.  Since I grew up with him and worked on the farm with him and he rubbed his sweaty armpit on my head, I’m thinking his skank tolerance has to be high.
• Etat Tom of Finland - I just think this is great smoky leather scent. Since his name is Tom, he’ll like that, too, plays into his ego to wear a scent with his name on it.
• Annick Goutal Eau de Fier - This may be uncomfortably close to the smoky bar and grill smell.
• Knize Ten - Great, classic leather, plenty rugged
• Caron Yatagan - why not?
• Helmut Lang Cuiron - iffy on this one. It’s a little less rugged, but could work great for his more refined moments, if he had any.
• Ormonde Jayne Ormonde Man - for special occasions, if he ever gets an evening out or just feel, well, um beautiful for the night, in a very manly way, of course.
• Parfums de Nicolai New York - because it is subtle and beautiful and perfect.
• Le Labo Patchouli 24 - sorry, every guy on my list gets this to try. It’s mandatory, they may hate it, but I don’t care, they have to sniff it.
• Hermessence Vetiver Tonka — again, always on any guy sampler list because I think it’s elegant and addictive.
• Hermessence Poivre Samarcande - great peppery scent
• Montale Black Oud — Needed an oud in here for him to try and see if he likes it, might as well start with the killer.
• Elternhaus kowtowingtoeveryreligiontothepointthatitsoffensive thing or Mark Buxton 03 from Biehl - Despite the goofiness of the Elternhaus, I think it’s a great incense, as is the MB03 from Biehl.  Both Mark Buxton, who I really ought to marry.  Does anyone knows if he plays on my side of the playground?
• Cdg Incense — can’t make up my mind on this. Thinking no on Avignon and Kyoto and leaning towards Zagorsk for the woody elements, which will cover a woody scent as well

Then I have a bunch of follow-on scents, depending on what he liks here. So…. the thoughts?

First off, a shout-out to Patty, who will be on NPR at 11:40 EST this morning, as part of a Perfumes: The Guide interview with LT and TS, I guess they’re going for the blogger perspective. Go, Patty! Second, a reminder, this coming Friday we are featuring your anonymous reviews of Clinique Aromatics Elixir and Happy, and Tommy Girl, so get those reviews emailed in to perfume dot posse at gmail dot com (with the correct punctuation marks substituted for “dot” and “at”) and we’ll print them. Third, next Monday, a week from today, is another free-for-all discussion on The Guide. Because, seriously, We Need To Talk. I Have Issues. Thus far I’ve flagged reviews that make me feel smug, a couple that make me want to try (or retry) something, and a couple that kill me. Okay, on to today’s topic.

The problem with reading about scents is you may learn something. Luca Turin has spoiled two scents for me in just this way recently. In The Guide he describes 21 Costume National as an “anisic oriental” and bam! Although anise is not listed among the 21 notes, when I smell it, anise is now the dominant note of this milky woody wonder (he gives it three stars). Anise being about as welcome in my fragrance collection as a bear at a picnic, my ardor for 21 has cooled. Also, I have had an on-again off-again relationship with L’Artisan Safran Troublant for quite some time, but it appears to be on again, my having acquired one of the small coffret bottles. Then I read LT’s review (four stars) in which he talks about the wonderful interplay among the saffron, vanilla and rose. Rose! Of course! The rose note was obvious as soon as I read it. Now, the rose having moved squarely to the forefront, it hogs the stage every time I smell it. I can barely see the saffron behind it.

Vexed by these developments, I dug around in all my samples looking for something different. Kelly had sent me some other Dawn Spencer Hurwitz scents, so I checked those out. Then I turned my attention to Gail’s package full of fragrances by Liz Zorn. (Thanks Kelly and Gail!)

The great thing about perfumery is, you can have sniffed so very, very much and there are still entire lines you know nothing about. I selected two Liz Zorns to put on – Grand Canyon, because Marina had blogged on it and I’d wanted to try it, and Pink Praline, because I was feeling perverse and it seemed, based on the label, to be the one thing I’d be least likely to enjoy.

LZ Pink Praline gave me an immediate masochistic satisfaction – I smiled, awaiting burial under a giant mass of what smelled like sugar and cocoa, with an odd discordant note I couldn’t place. I usually loathe chocolate in my fragrance, and this was no exception. After three minutes it quiets down quite a bit, the odd top note fades, and I began to … well, to like it. Go figure. I decided to look at the notes: pink grapefruit, cocoa, maple, dark roasted coffee, spices, cinnamon, honey, fenugreek, vanilla. The odd note at the top is the grapefruit – yes, a sweet citrus on top of cocoa. I can’t pick the coffee out until the drydown, when it becomes quite prominent. In the drydown it’s a seamless, not overly sweet gourmand confection – the smell of being in a bakery, but a nice one, and the maple/fenugreek gives an immortelle-esque twist. You choco/gourmand freaks should check this out.

LZ Grand Canyon (sweet orange, clementine, blood orange, neroli, laurel leaf, palma rosa, black pepper, labdanum, benzoin, honey, myrrh, sandalwood, spices, rose, jasmine, vetiver) starts out with a jumble of citrus, rose and laurel, and my immediate reaction was – nah. It had that kind of macerated green soup vibe that wasn’t working for me. Then the citrus fades into the spices, jasmine and woods, it becomes an warmly elegant comfort scent – the kind that’s pretty enough to wear out, more sophisticated than your favorite sweatshirt, but just as cozy. My favorite of the bunch listed in this post.

I sat out in the sun on the back porch, the first day it was warm enough to do so. I should have gotten out my sun hat. But I didn’t. Sitting there, wondering about sniffing the other Liz Zorn samples, my bad mood gone, cataloging my constant stream of perfumed thoughts (I never ordered those last DSH samples!, and do I already have a vial of Givenchy Vetyver and don’t realize it?), I suddenly understood. It wouldn’t matter if I smelled them all and never smelled them again, much less owned them. It explains my phenomenal sample collection versus my relatively sparse bottle collection. I watched those bees buzz all around me, looking for their next hit, and I realized: I am a perfume vagabond. I want to taste the honey from every single flower on this earth, and if I never own that flower… that’s okay. I’m just a bee, and it was worth it.

* * *

DSH Tamarind Paprika – this one fascinates me. Half the time – a bitter, sour, nasty, cheapo potpourri-from-hell smell. The other half of the time – an interesting tobacco-and-mulling-spices.

DSH Prana smells exactly like the inside of an Aveda store.

DSH Vanille – a rich, straight, gourmand vanilla I enjoyed sniffing on the edge of my thumb, and would probably kill me in larger doses.

DSH Arome d’Egypt – DSH does spice and gourmand scents really well. This is sort of a spice market/incense scent.

DSH Jitterbug – this is in fact a wonderful old-fashioned spicy oriental fragrance that one could imagine wafting up from various vintage bottles.

Liz Zorn Sunset Rider – huh. To the extent we’re developing a trend, what I’m discovering sampling her stuff is I find the top notes jarring, and then the whole fragrance opens up and shifts in a direction I like better. Having done this several times now, I’m kind of enjoying the construct; it gets my attention. Sunset Rider starts off with what I think is a citrus/sandalwood blast, then dries down into a fairly indolic jasmine, and you know I like my jasmine dirty.

LZ Vanillaville. From her website: “A rustic, smoky vanilla, with the essence of pipe tobacco and leather. Notes include Almond, Tonka, Tarragon, Birch Tar and Coffee.” To me it smelled like a perfect sweet pipe tobacco rather than leather.

LZ Solstice – (formerly Peace on Earth?). Balsam, white pine, rose, jasmine, violet, cassie, clove, sandalwood, agarwood, rosewood, frankincense, myrrh, amber, woods, balsam of Peru, orris, patchouli, tuberose, moss, ambrette, vanilla. A floral incense. I got the extrait. It’s very soft and comforting, lightly spicy. I want to spray this on and see how I felt about it, I think I would love it. For some reason it’s not coming up at all on her website.

LZ Chado - Green Tea, Blue Cypress, fresh herbs. The website describes it as GRASSY-DRY-HERBAL, which is not my sort of thing. However, that’s a perfect description.

LZ Oolong – a peach tea and tooooo sweeet on me. The only one of the bunch I really didn’t care for.

LZ Blood Orange and Vetiver – hey, remember Wickle Chestnut & Vetiver? No? Sigh. That was such a great scent. Its simplity in concept was part of its charm. This is along the same lines – a sweet/tart juicy orange mixed with a fairly rooty vetiver.

LZ Cordovan Rose – the big rose opening up and walloped my nose, but before I could scream in horror the birch tar and glove leather painted a smile on my face. I still wouldn’t wear it, because it’s rose, but fans of leathery roses might love this. The rose fades over time, leaving me with a soft, sweet leather.

Liz Zorn is, I think, moving her goods to her new website, selling them under a different name, Soivohle, and I’m going to gripe that I hate the setup, in which all the fragrances are sold using abbreviations – Sunset Rider becomes SR-05-N. Hon, why? They already have (slightly groovy) names, which I kinda like. I view this as a step backward. Alphanumeric reference-style naming is dull and hard to remember. It didn’t work well for Parfums MDCI, it didn’t work well for biehl.parfumkunstwerke, and it ain’t gonna work well for you either.

bee image: pdphoto.org

When I came across this gorgeous painting in the Louvre, many years ago, I was shocked.  Much in the way I believe Shakespeare’s contemporary audience was when they first saw the sleepwalking, murderous (at least complicit) Lady in the famous play.  I adore painting and Fusli was as yet unknown to me.  I pretty much stuck to the Italians and the Germans and well-known Dutch, etc at the time.  I adore Shakespeare and embracing the tragic romantic that is me, I tend to go back to the great tragedies most often.  Lear is of course the greatest, but I do love Macbeth.  It is the most dramatic.  What does this have to do with perfume?  I will tell you.  I see paintings like this and I immediately wonder….what do the doctor and the attendant in the background smell?  What kind of dark sillage does the Lady leave behind as she wanders the halls, oblivious to her mutterings?  Does she smell of bright, cheerful flowers to bely her foul heart?  She was after all trying desperately to appear sunny, almost flirty three acts ago. She tried to shed her humanity (she asked to be unsexed, which of course meant humanity, not womanhood)….so would she have doused herself in the softest of rose oils?  I think her sheets were heavy with sweat and tears and she, heavy with her deeds, smelled of darkness and despair….These are not Spring thoughts, but I can’t help myself.  I think Lady Macbeth’s vanity would have been filled with “pretty” scents, but she would have loathed them all.  She would have secretly longed to, “cross the aisle” as it were.  She would have doused herself in her fathers’ and brothers’ scents (I have invented a family for her).  I think her private collection would have been filled with birches and woods and other dark scents.  This is not to say that her actions were typically “masculine”.  I simply believe the character indulged a very distorted notion of what is feminine and what is masculine.  She was quite simply one twisted woman.  If I were to perfume this character, I think I would choose Lutens’ Rose de Nuit.  A dark gorgeous rosy chypre with so much red rose and so much depth, I can see Lady Macbeth’s damned spot each time I smell it.  So, whom would you love to scent and what would it be……doesn’t have to be the Bard. 

It’s that time of year again — our Top Ten Spring fragrances, even if it hasn’t felt quite as much like spring at this point as we’d hoped. Patty and March each offer up five’ish scents perfect for thinking about spring:

March

Spring is probably my least favorite fragrance season, which strikes me as not the right way to start this post, but there you are. It’s not that I don’t like spring — I do. But delicate florals and cheerful musks aren’t my cup of … dirt. So here are some other suggestions.

1) Dirt. Number one, of course, would be CB I Hate Perfume’s Black March, with its smell of thawing soil, spring air and unfurled buds. Neil Morris’ Dark Earth is a more classic take on the dirt smell. Or go dig into Demeter’s website — Wet Garden, Dirt, Beet Root, Earthworm...

2) Violets. Not sweet candied violets, but crisp, cool violets. L’Artisan Verte Violette is a popular choice. I much prefer Annick Goutal’s cool, sharp Violette, or Les Nez’ wonderfully strange, woefully underappreciated, frosted-cucumber Unicorn Spell.

3) Masculines. It’s counterintuitive, but something about cool, fresh spring air brings on a desire to splash on some retro classic like Guerlain Derby (which I was stunned to discover Luca Turin called “one of the ten best masculines of all time” in The Guide, five stars) or Christian Dior Jules (which he also loves, four stars).

4) Weepy florals. Malle En Passant (lilac, rain, bread, fence, wet tarmac). And of course, Guerlain Apres l’Ondee (heliotrope, iris, tears from heaven). When this fails to appear on my list of great spring scents, I will be dead.

5) Aldehydes. In general I admire the champagne fizziness of aldehydes more than enjoy wearing them. Spring, however, seems to bring on a desire for that peculiar smell. By the way, if you think “I hate aldehydes,” have you tried many different ones? I think sometimes people object to aldehydes that seem jaded (like Van Cleef & Arpels First) or formal and mannered (Chanel 5, 22). If those freak you out, try my personal favorite, Robert Piguet Baghari, with its roses, cheerful neroli and creamy vanilla-amber base — giving the aldehydes the warm glow of the sun than the cool glimmer of moonlight.

Patty

While I love spring, especially after this horribly long winter, spring scents sometimes seem a little too cheerful when I’m just lumbering up out of my long winter perfumes. Makes me cranky and decidedly uncheerful.

1) Cheerful without appearing to be. Hermessence Osmanthe Yunnan. It sparkles, it reflects air and radiates good cheer, but it’s not grinning right in your face with its big toothy smile. Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist is studiously not cheerful, but it never fails to make my spirits soar, radiating the earthy goodness of the dirt and sun… a coldly warm, stunning charmer.

2) Weepy Florals. Ditto what March said. These two will always be on my spring list and my funeral list.

3) Underappreciated charmers. Marina had me sniffing L’Artisan La Chasse Aux Papillon Extreme when we were in NYC, and for some reason, I had never smelled it. It is richer and fuller than the regular Papillon and not as yappy as I sometimes find the regular version to be, while remaining quintessentially spring.

4) Ridiculously Overpriced. Yeah, yeah, I know, but it really is beautiful - Christian Dior La Collection Particuliere Passage No. 8. Gorgeous, full-throated iris - I feel like I’ve been swallowed whole by one of those gigantor purple irises when I put it on.

5) Anticipation - CB Memory of Kindness. Tomato leaves and garden smell leapfrogs me right past spring into summer up to my elbows in ice cold tomato slices from my mom’s garden, covered in garlic salt and pepper - the tomatoes, not me. Well, the perfume doesn’t have the garlic salt and pepper, but it should!

For other Top Ten Spring lists, see Bois de Jasmin, Now Smell This, Perfume-Smellin’ Things, and Scentzilla.

Do you ever just get tired of hearing about a somewhat readily available perfume that you’ve never smelled, so you finally just smell it and end your misery?  Yeah, exactly.

Tommy Girl has notes of black currant bud, apple, tangerine, mandarin, spearmint, heather, honeysuckle, violet, rose, magnolia, jasmine, lily, sandalwood and cedarwood.  Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez have given it five stars and pronounced it a masterpiece in Perfumes: The Guide.  As I agree with about 80% of the perfumes that landed on that list, I figured I should try Tommy Girl with an open mind and see what I came up with.

The open is really horrible, it’s like a bad day at the playground and I threw up fruit and gum all over the wooden merry-go-round.   Not an auspicious start, and the open gets a one star. But we all know to wait on these things, it can and often does get better… or worse.   Or I could be an unwashed rube that just doesn’t get the shimmering brilliance of Tommy Girl. 

• 30 minutes in… slightly rancid Doublemint gum and fruit throw-up in the flower bushes by the side of the playground.
• 1 hour … Okay… now we’re seeing some signs of something besides a really horrible open.  How exactly did this perfume sell so well with that open?  That’s truly the mark of Tommy Love that people would stick with that.  Isn’t this supposed to be tea?  I mean, I get a little, but the florals are just burying most of the fun stuff so far.
• I’m going for a run, let see if some heat can give TG a little oomph.  Okay, that’s much better, getting the tea and a delicate floral accord, the fruity notes are gone.  This is very pretty, but it’s really not me that much, has a little too much fresh feeling floating around.

Is it a five-star masterpiece? Not for me, but if you like the interplay of the notes and the overall direction of the perfume, I can see how you would make it a favorite.  I certainly don’t dislike it, and it was better after an hour than I thought it was going to be.

So which one(s) of the five-starred perfumes are you sure you’ll hate, but think you’ll try just to see?

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, mild