Le Labo is a new perfumery in NYC. Robin at NST posted about their opening a week or so ago. With the noses they have working for them, these had to be great things, so I ordered the small bottles of Ciste 18, Fleur D’Oranger 27, Vetiver 46, and they sent me a sample of the Rose 31.

Fleur D’Oranger 27 — Orange blossom, musk, bergamot, petit grain and lemon are the notes. My nose has pronounced it absolutely gorgeous. A great orange blossom, as good as L’Artisan’s solifore, but with a little more depth and magic to it. This one is a true keeper, just heavenly. If you aren’t a fan of orange flower, this one probably won’t change your mind, but it is a nice earthy orange blossom, definitely not too sweet, so it might be one that works for you.

Vetiver 46 — Notes of Haitian vetiver, pepper, gaiac, labdanum, cedar, and olibanum. This is for a man, but it sounded gorgeous from the notes. It may be my skin, but it just doesn’t work for me at all. Just tangy pungent medicinal smell, not me at all. If I don’t put my nose down too close to it, it’s not as horrible as I think it is, but put the nose close, and it’s just, well, not me. I’m sparing any unkind words only because I’m thinking at this point it’s just a reaction to my skin or my nose and this really isn’t this unlovely.

Rose 31 - Grasse rose, cumin, olibanum, cedar, amber, gaiac wood, cistus and animalic notes. Sniffing this out of the bottle, what a stunner it should be. Put it on, perfectly gorgeous. Then something bad happened after about 15 minutes. I was sent twirling back through the space/time continuum and landed in Dr. Heisterman’s office, looking at the cheap little rings and wailing inconsolably while he gave me a very hated shot. How in the heck did that happen? The rose wilted, and it was just Eau de Doctor’s Office.
Okay, this can’t be right at all. So we are trying it again, but this time we shook up the little tester to make sure it was all mixed up properly, and now we have a beautiful, cedary rose that would be great for a guy (this is intended for guys). It’s not sweet, but it is rosy in an elegant, understated way. I do think mixing is key, so turn the tube a few times before you apply on some of these, or you may wind up in the wrong spot in your life weeping copiously.

Ciste 18 - oriental notes, with animal intonations of civet and castoreum. I have no idea why I ordered this one. I’m not a skank girl. I mean, I can be a skanky girl, but I generally like my skank cleaned up a little. This ain’t bad as your skank goes (sorry, in Nashville, they’re rubbing off on me. I’m afixin to get Southern by the end of today). For those of you that like your perfume to show up in peek-a-boo pnaties, you’ll like this one. I like it, even though it’s not my normal style. I agree with Marina that it has a very definite Musc Ravageur likeness. And it sticks like glue. I woke up this morning with just that one remaining all over everything.

So out of the four, the Ciste and the Fleur D’Oranger are definite winners. As long as the doctor’s office doesn’t show up in the Rose 31 one again, I could learn to really love that one too. The Vetiver just wasn’t me. I don’t know who it would be, and I don’t think I want to know who it would be or meet them ever in a dark alley or anywhere there isn’t a priest present, and I hope I just got a bad mix.

Now I very much want to try some others in the line. They are planning on offering a sampler pack in the next month or so.
Anyone read Spanish? I got this really cool Magiff nail thing that gives my nails a clear polish shine without the polish, but the directions are in Spanish? I think I know what to do from the demonstration, but I would so like to be sure.

Visiting the Perfume Counter is sometimes like entering another plane of existence. Either they completely ignore you while busy with the CCX customer or talk on the phone with their BFF Jodee, or they pounce on you like raw meat that just got tossed into the lion’s cage.

There used to be a great SA at my local Sak’s perfume counter, Mi, but of course, they bumped her upstairs to Armani women’s clothing because she was so good, and her replacement is, well, entertaining and a little manic. Every time I go to that counter now, she doesn’t exactly pounce, but she just starts whirling around the counter like someone just wound her up and set her to spinning. She picks up a scent card, brings out some random scent, and sprays it and tosses it at me, moves on to the next one, card, spray, toss. I get dizzy watching her, and the feedback she gets from me does not impact her movement much, except like when you poke your finger at a top, it may change direction a bit, but that is all. My usual, “I have that, I’ve tried that, I hate that, no, not that crap again, please put down the card and the sprayer and step away from the counter” just fall like raindrops in the desert — quickly absorbed, with no meaninful impact.

She blithely continues whirling and tossing, and I just decide which I want to sample on my skin (this whole card thing just baffles me — how do you know if you will buy something from a scented card? This is just one step up from buying from a magazine sniff strip) and I wait until she has fluttered past in a slowing frenzy and ask her to please ring up whatever it is I’ve decided on, or I just slink away while she continues the dance like a ballerina in a slowing music box. (image from Unesco)

Why is it you can’t buy makeup with your husband? My husband is a great shopper, hardly ever complains, actually likes to shop for most things, but once we get to the mascara and blush and other potions, his eyes glaze over, I feel the pressure and cannot relax and just enjoy the whole makeup-buying experience at all. Do they just not want to know? He won’t watch me put on makeup either. These are the things that trouble my peaceful existence.

Frederic Malle Noir Epices — I know there are some huge fans of this Malle, but I don’t know if the spices got too dark or what. I’ve wanted to love it, but I put this on and in 10 minutes my head hurts, all I can smell is the darkness in this perfume and no spice at all. But what a name!! The name makes me think of long, spice-scented nights in the desert.

Le Labo — I got three of these today in the mail, Ciste 18, Fleur D’Oranger 27, Vetiver 46 and a sample of Rose 31. Lord, these are cuteness in a bottle. Two are stunners right out of the bottle, and the other two I’m not sure of yet.

But now it is time for a trip to Nashville, yeehawww!

L’Artisan was the first niche line I fell for. Here are brief notes on some of the less common L’Artisans worth exploring:

Fleur de Carotte — baby carrot, cucumber, tarragon, lettuce, apricot, ginger. I burst out laughing the first time I smelled this. Yes, it smells like a carrot and it is gorgeous. If you think of the smell of a carrot in terms of its delicate, vegetal sweetness, and add a bit of green from the garden, and a thin slice of fresh ginger, you’re there. This deserves to be more popular. Buy some so they don’t discontinue it. My decant is gone. How do I get Patty to buy this so I can get my hands on some more? Hmmmm….

Un Zest D’Ete — lemon rind, orange bergamot, grapefruit and lemon blossom, is, as the name suggests, geared toward summer, released in 2003 and still available online. I’d pegged this one as my favorite. I love things sharp and citrusy, and grapefruit and lemon blossom suit me perfectly. This one is stronger than you might expect, easily the strongest of the four, and unfortunately the bergamot basically buries all the other notes on me, except for a hint of grapefruit. However, if you are a big fan of bergamot, you might want to try this one. I would re-name this Bergamot Extreme.

Oeillet Sauvage (Wild carnation) — pink berries and pepper, rose, ylang ylang, lily, gillyflower, vanilla. This is the somewhat sweeter, more multifloral but still very pretty cousin to Floris Malmaison. I like the Malmaison better. However, if it struck you as a bit too linear but you loved the idea of carnation, you might want to give this a go. But hurry up, rumor has it it’s being discontinued, which is a damn shame.

Jacinthe des Bois (Hyacinth of the Woods) — tulip, galbanum, sap, narcissus, broom, beeswax, mate and melilot. Sap scents tend to register as a weird, mothball-like note on me, and this is no exception. But the mothball fades after the first 15 minutes and leaves me with an arrangement of fresh flowers as haunting as Giacobettis ethereal En Passant for Frederic Malle, only less melancholy. I don’t see hyacinth listed in the notes (!) but as far as I’m concerned this is a realistic representation of the hyacinth and broom blooming right now in the garden next door. Also being discontinued.

Note: samples of these L’Artisan scents are available at Lusciouscargo.com.

Finally, let us change direction and look briefly at Marc Jacobs’ new line of splash colognes (10 oz., $65 at Nordstrom), Grass, Cotton and Rain. The bottles are lovely and clean-looking, although they look, um, a little familiar (Jo Malone, call your lawyers!) Unfortunately, their appearance is the extent of their charms. The Grass was not greener, I didn’t cotton to Cotton, and Rain distinguishes itself only by its level of relative sweetness. Yes, I understand these are splashes, and yes, they’re supposed to be light. But please. These are pathetic. I could buy something more distinctive at Crabtree & Evelyn for one-third the price. You gave us the stellar Blush, and then you stooped to this?

My sister and her daughter were out this last weekend, and we just had a blast shopping and watching Pride and Prejudice and being sisters, as we always do. For those of you that have sisters you are close to, you know what I’m talking about, there is nothing like a sister you love unabashedly who shares your history and gets all of your stupid jokes. My niece is a senior in high school, so this was the last prom dress shopping that will ever be done for her, so it was a little poignant, and I was just so darn happy to get to go for the first time! I have two boys, so there hasn’t been and never will be any prom dress shopping for me. Well, there could be, I guess, but my boys haven’t taken up cross-dressing so far.

For so many years, my sister and I have shared our love of perfume. I’d get some new things and head out to Kansas to visit, and she’d paw through my suitcase to see what I had and find some new things to love and convince me to get her for her next birthday.

About eight months ago, Shirley (my sister) had a bad sinus infection, and her sense of smell just was pretty warped and twisted for a long time. Anything that smelled great now smelled awful. Anything that smelled awful now was tolerable. She knew when a perfume was really good because it made her nose ache. After a few doctors, some bad and some good, she has finally gotten recently what looks to be a good course of treatment to help right her wrecked sense of smell, and it is slowly coming back. There are some notes that still stink to high heaven for her, like sandalwood and patchouli. How hard it has been these last few months because we couldn’t share that love of perfume. She would just be sad, and I didn’t want to make her feel bad, so it is good that we are getting back to sharing again, this weekend was just fun to go sniffing away like we used to. It’s been interesting to watch the process and see how one note can ruin what is a great concoction for her still. It makes me wonder what receptor that one note is hitting that still is inflamed to make it so wretched.

Smell as a whole is a strange mystery to me anyway. I don’t know why it is so powerful, but so hard to pin down. I know lots of people are good at picking out notes, but how can they do that? It is just some little tiny molecules floating in the air. I find it a wondrous thing and a great miracle that we can enjoy something so much that is, basically, nothing. And through my sister, I can now empathize with the pain people feel when it is taken away from them. It is a hard sense to do without.

I was fortunate enough recently to get a great deal on The Bay for the whole little Frederic Malle Sampler pack. There are many I have not tried in here and a few that I wanted to try again, and one that I hated twice, swapped or gave away that has re-entered my life. Malle has been a slow love. There are a few I loved instantly, but most just didn’t do it for me right out of the bottle, but that is how Serge was.

Musc Ravageur — Wicked little perfume. This was to be my third and last time with this scent. There is something about it that is so decadent and hot, like your Sunday morning bed after an amazing Saturday night date. It is a little musky and a little sweet, and I’ve managed to fall in love with it finally. This isn’t a scent I can wear most days, but on the days when it works, I get why it has all the fans that it does. It is ideal for meeting some hot, inappropriately young Latin guy in a bad part of town, or at least thinking that’s what you should do when you wear it.

Lys Mediterranee –Â I love Serge Lutens’ Un Lys, but this one is lighter, not as likely to annoy your neighbor on an airplane. While I love lillies with a passion, they can be overbearing in their fragrance, but this one is a beauty and incredibly wearable even for those who aren’t big lilly fans.

I intend to go through the rest of my little sampler pack of Frederic Malles over the next couple of weeks. There’s some losers in there too, but these two just leaped out as two that will join Carnal Flower, Iris Poudre and Lipstick Rose of Malles that I love.

My #1 daughter was yearning for her first bottle of perfume, one she’d choose, not one of the gazillions of samples, decants and bottles I’ve provided for her gratis. (She mostly wears the Clean line, graciously provided by Patty). I told her I’d entertain the idea but was making no promises, and off we headed to the department store and Sephora. She wanted to smell DKNY Be Delicious, because her grrrl hero Emma Watson (of Harry Potter fame) wears it, but she wanted to try things on before making her decision. She joins me on my perfume forays because I love the way things smell on her; her skin is slightly oily and she almost always brings out the best a fragrance has to offer. One unexpected but fun result of all this is that she’s developed a spot-on nose, and frequently points out some element I might have missed.

In Sephora we found a patient, young SA who understood the assignment and we got busy. We tried on DKNY Be Delicious and Red Delicious, but both were really too old for her, a realization which caused me to reassess them in terms of their deceptive simplicity. Be has the refreshing bitterness of a tart green apple without (and this is the interesting part) actually smelling like a green apple, and the Red is both less sweet and more juicy/spicy than I first realized. We tried on the new Lacoste Touch of Pink, which smelled nice but way too musky on my young teenager. We’d already dismissed the Escada summer scents (are there really four of them now? Ibiza something, Island mmmph, Rockin’ Rio, and, uh, the new one, Grumpy? Doc?) because she finds them too sweet (!) and on her they are peculiarly short-lived for something so aggressive out of the bottle.

The Stilas were all wrong for her, although I love their makeup. She tried on something else (she couldn’t remember what), sniffed, and said ‘it smells like Play-Doh.’ I sniffed it skeptically and, yup, precisely. I was forced to revisit Britney Spears Curious and Fantasy (she loved that bottle!) and, again, to concede that, while I am at least 20 years older than their target audience, those are both legitimate, thought-out fragrances, as opposed to, say, Jessica Simpsons Dessert line, which is such crap it should be illegal. (There. I’ve said it. That stuff is so nasty my 8-year-old won’t touch it.) I admit I was quietly relieved that she failed to fall in love with any of the J. Lo fragrances, even though (God, shoot me now) two of them, Live and Love at First Glow (ack!) were reasonable contenders.

She wound up with a bottle of Ralph: ’sparkling green apple leaves, zesty orange mandarin, charismatic pink magnolia, seductive purple freesia, and soft blue musk that explodes into a colorful floral fragrance.’  Sephora. With its chunky bottle, bright color and clean, bold graphics, Ralph (along with Ralph Hot and Ralph Cool) appear to be aimed at a younger demographic. Ralph is the apple-green scent she clearly liked in Be Delicious, rendered in a softer, less sophisticated, more floral way. I can’t imagine anyone much past high school wanting it, but it’s perfect for her right now.

Finally, at Sephora I sampled yet another new, dull spring Guerlain  I can’t even find it online. They must have a giant vat of unmemorable, fruity-floral juice they just keep decanting into an endless stream of bottles with girly pink logos and equally insipid names based around the words ‘precious,’ ‘heart,’ and ‘love.’

At Nordstrom I was thrilled to discover some new spring scents that are departures from the endless parade of summer-type simple florals. Armani Code for Women EDP (orange flower, fresh ginger, honey, sandalwood), has a gorgeous slender blue bottle with a black lace pattern embossed on it. The juice itself is curiously spring-fallish; the SA described it as more ’sensual’ but I’m not sure I’m going there. What it has is the bright weightlessness of a summer fragrance but the dark seriousness of a fall fragrance, and it’s quite a winning effect. I get very little orange on me, it’s spicy ginger, sweet honey and dry sandalwood. It has decent lasting power.

Vertigo by Vertigo (Californian lemon, Brazilian orange, spices, roses, jasmine absolute, tuberose, ylang ylang, sandalwood and white cedar) is a fresh, light summery fragrance that is primarily citrus and cedar on me, although the jasmine and tuberose assert themselves a bit more in the drydown. It manages to be feminine without being insipid. My only quibble is the name, which makes me think of Gucci Rush and would be appropriate for something racier. This girly little number should be called something like: Tulle. Taffeta?

While I won’t go so far as to say that I think Code for Women and Vertigo are brilliant, they differentiate themselves from most of the mid-range department store fragrances in that I’d actually wear either one of them cheerfully if someone gave me a bottle. Would I buy one for myself? Hmmmmm, the Vertigo, no, but the Code is a definite possibility. Both are available at Nordstrom.com and probably plenty of other places.

1) The cover of my new issue of Vogue has a photo of Jennifer Aniston and it says, “Don’t Feel Sorry For Me!” Well, okay, hon. I mean, Brad did dump you (he of the refined design aesthetics who sneered at your comfy-couch boho-Victorian style) for that big-lipped bimbo who just happens to be spread all over the inside of this issue, the new model for St. John, looking for all the world like she’s trying to remember how many orgasms she’s had today, or possibly where she left the keys to the Mercedes (are these thoughts connected?) And he knocked her up and you can’t even tell in those pics. But you’re right. I’m already bored with your new role as jilted celebrity wifey, consoling yourself with the cover of Vogue. You’re right, I don’t feel sorry for you.

2) I want the old Pier 1 Imports back. The new Pier 1 is a downscale Pottery Barn, with cheaply made furniture, candles in scents I don’t want, and wall art I don’t like. I want my funky old Pier 1 with that fell-off-the-ship hodgepodge of hemp clothing, ancient powdery teas, mystery spice bags, ratty posters, weird creepy wood bibelots, etc. Not because I really need any of that stuff. I just miss the smell. If you could bottle the unique, spicy, musty, foreign smell of the Original Pier One, I’d be first in line to buy it. I’d use it as a room spray. They don’t even carry baskets any more. Yeesh.

3) What is going on with the super-sizing of soap bars? It’s like a 32-oz. Coke … no wonder I buy so many guest soaps, at least I can pick them up! Wielding one of those new giant soaps in the bath is like trying to keep a grip on a greased brick.

4) Finally, new on the Rose Love Front: I have decided that powder is not something I love with my rose, although objectively it’s beautiful (think Lipstick Rose). My newest Rose Love (thanks, Patty, you enabler! mwah!) is Serge Lutens Rose de Nuit, which is deeply animalic, a filthy, drrrrty thing that curled up in my ear and whispered sexy obscenities to me for hours. It is so magnificently skanky I am guessing this was not a great love for Patty.

5) I was stumbling around our local Anthropologie looking at all their cool stuff, which includes not just unusual bath soaps and lotions but often fragrances I’ve never seen elsewhere. On this trip there were some L’Aromarines (which, okay, I have seen elsewhere), and three different Oilily scents (who knew?), all of which were fun enough that maybe I’ll review them as a set sometime, and one of which, Papillon, I especially liked — a lily and tart cherry combo that absolutely works. But the best find was Paul & Joe Bleu Eau De Toilette (30ml). Robin at NST actually reviewed the other one, Paul & Joe Blanc, which was very pretty but which I couldn’t pick out of a spring-floral lineup, so to speak. Bleu actually got me to stop, turn around, and go back across the cluttered store, trawling for the bottle (um, excuse me, does this smell familiar, what the hell did I just try on?!?)

Notes: Bergamot, Cilantro, Caraway, Cardamom, Ylang-Ylang, Jasmine, Rose, Magnolia, Heliotrope, Patchouli, Vetiver, Oud, Myrrh, Sandalwood, Incense, Vanilla, Ambergris.

I think this would be a bit much in the middle of summer, but (bear with me here) it had the olfactory resonance of sassafras. What I mean is, it didn’t smell like sassafras, but it had roughly the same level of root-beer-ish refreshment factor, and about the same weight. I liked it because it was interesting, and quite pleasant along the same general lines as, say, a cucumber cologne, but with more legitimate-perfume depth and complexity. As my aunt would say, nifty. Definitely a unisexy fragrance, too. The guy at the POST OFFICE said, you smell wonderful! Postscript: 1) The Big Cheese, who mostly doesn’t comment on my ever-changing reek, said hey, that smells really good. 2) The scary part? After a couple of hours I thought, that smells a tiny bit like my friend Chergui. So I sprayed some on the other arm for a comparison. I am probably going to get myself drummed out of the perfume corps as an drooling idiot, but here it is: I liked the Bleu better. It’s not as sweet on my skin, and a little green.

Regina Harris Rose Maroc Oil — $125 at La Creme Beauty for .5 ounces.

Rose Maroc, Frankincense and Myrrh are the notes in this long-lasting and you only need a little oil. It goes on with the sharp incense notes, and the rose is very subtle in there. The sharpness makes your nostrils flare and reminds me that I’m way overdue for confession. This is a really beautiful, soaring incense, and the rose softens it just a smidge, but not enough to take away from what it is — a smokey, rich incense. And that bottle, I’d sell my mother — oldest teenager for that bottle. Is it worth that price tag? Normally, I’d say no way, but this really is lovely. For incense lovers, it really is an extravagant incense, much warmer than Armani Prive Bois D’Encens. Which gives me an idea! Maybe I should mix the BdE with some rose, like the Micallef Rose Aoud, which I still need to order. (picture from La Creme website)

Annick Goutal Petite Cherie – March and I are pretty sure that we are the only people on the face of the planet that love Petite Cherie. Notes of freshly cut grass, musky rose, peach, and vanilla. I never smell the vanilla in here, I just get all that peach and grass, and this is the perfume that makes me feel frilly and girly and young and frivolous and giggly. It needs a plug in the spring, it deserves it, it’s been reviled and spit on enough. Girlie Girls UNITE in support of a sweet fruity scent that doesn’t make us feel stupid for wearing it!!!!

Costume National Scent Gloss — I’ve had a sample of this forever, and for some reason, I’ve just never put it on. Time to fix that. Notes of spicy rose, purple orchid and fresh musk, it goes on with a little rose and some other stuff that made me sneeze. Okay, sweet candy rose with a little musk in there. Not terrible, not memorable.. what was it I put on?

It must be time for some new candy samples, which also gives me an excuse to drop in a thing of beauty by one of my favorite painters:

John Singer Sargent — Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose

Floris Malmaison: I was jonesing for a nice carnation, and Boisdejasmin recommended this one. Victoria, I kneel at your sweetly-scented feet. The smell of a spicy carnation with a kiss of cloves and a warm base of a lightly powdery, delicate musk. Gorgeous.

S-Perfume Lust: Some fragrances go wrong on my skin through no fault of their own (Serge/Sheldrake Bois d’Anything springs to mind here). Some things are just all wrong straight from the bottle, and Lust is one of them. This falls squarely into my Rasputin’s Armpit category a photorealistic rendition of a hairy, unwashed underarm in humid August. If unwashed armpits are your lust thing, or if you think I’m wrong, email me and I’ll send you my large-ish sample. Possibly the nastiest smell I have ever deliberately applied to my person.

Shalini: it costs $400 an ounce, notes are tuberose, neroli and tiare – so don’t spill it, honey. A soaring, ethereal white flower arrangement, created by Maurice Roucel. It manages to be every glorious thing it promises on the Aedes website, without the cloying aspect I would usually find from a fragrance this rich (in all senses).

Mona di Orio  Carnation: Top notes include bergamot, clove and geranium. Middle notes include ylang ylang, violet, jasmin and precious woods; Base notes include musk, amber and styrax. This is a faintly spicy, face-powder smell, with a touch of a musty, sweet mildew. Meh. Nuit Noir: Top notes include orange flower, cardamom, ginger and orange guinee; Heart notes include olibian, cinnamon, tuberose, sandalwood, clove and cedarwood and base notes include amber, leather, musk and tonka bean. I wanted to love this one, Columbina says it’s a winner. On me it is, well, animalic to the point of zoo-smell, served with a generous dusting of cinnamon and a squeeze of orange. Lux — Top notes include Sicilian lemon, litsea cubeba, petitgrain bigarade. Heart notes include vetiver, cedarwood and sandalwood Mysore. Base notes include musc, amber, vanilla bourbon and labdanum. A cheerful, lemon-y winner. Not an entirely novel concept, but still quite pleasing in a fresh citrus-cologne way.

Creed Fleur de The Rose Bulgare: What a bitter disappointment. Many sophisticated fragrance friends said this is the most true of roses. On me it manages to be (paradoxically) thin and cloying, a high-end-catalog silk erose, rather than a rose. I might as well give up writing fragrance reviews right now, after all, I’m the flake who found Malle’s Une Rose to be the most realistic thus far. My 11-year-old Junior Nose pronounced it “fake like cherry candy.”

Escentric Molecules Escentric 01: is based around the radiant warmth of Iso E Super, taken in an unprecedented concentration of 65 percent. Ornamenting the radiant wood tonality of this fascinating aroma-chemical is the sweet piquancy of pink pepper and the verdant tartness of lime peel. Orris incense veils the velvety composition with sweet delicate smokiness; its subtle sensuality underscoring the darkness of Iso E Super — Aedes. Ooooo-kay. I’ll take their word for it. I figured anything with this chemistry-set approach was worth smelling if only because it’s such a refreshing antidote to the ‘natural perfume is better’ cant. (Natural how? Better than what?) I’m not going to begin to pretend to understand the mechanics of this fragrance. (There’s also a whole precious blurb about the brilliance of their binary-code bottles, which I’ll spare you). I am simply going to tell you that I did one of those road-runner-type screeching stops when it wrapped itself around my olfactory receptacles. It is a really, really cool incense smell, brightened by lime and some other juju like somebody’s holding the whole thing up to a powerful source of light. Unisexy.

Molecule 01: is composed solely of Iso E Super, an aroma-chemical with a warm woody tonality. It possesses a velvety quality that is simultaneously elusive and tenacious. Well, not that elusive — it smells like Windex and pepper, and half an hour later it’s just pepper. It’s interesting, but I much prefer the Escentric 01, even though I’m not sure it’s worth $135.

Image: www.returnoflight.com

Once upon a time, there was a girl who had beautiful, shiny, bouncy hair. It was a wonderful shade of honey blonde. Thick and luxurious, it looked good short or long. Then she had children. Something happened to her beautiful hair. It got some gray in it, and those gray hairs weren’t shiny and pretty at all, or bouncy. They were tough and wiry and dry and oogy.

The Mommy-with-the-now-gray-strands had an idea!! She went to the nice lady at the beauty shop and asked her to please give her some shimmery golden highlights for her hair that would cover up that icky gray hair, and she did! How pretty and blond her hair is, but, ohmy, it is a little dry, isn’t it? Well, it is either the gray or the dry, so dry it is.

And the Nice Lady got older, and her children turned into teenagers, and her hair got dryer as she fried — er, colored her hair and permed it and pulled it out when the teenagers started driving.

Alas, one day she looked in the mirror and decided something had to change– her hair hung there like a mop, it wasn’t shiny or pretty, it was dull and lifeless with dry, split ends. There must be a way to get back her beautiful tresses. She thought and she thought and she googled until she found the answer… Kerastase in the pretty pink bottle! Yes, this might work, so she pulled out the battered credit card and ordered the shampoo and the hair masque and the conditioner. Then she watched out the window until the man in the blue uniform delivered her packages with the magic elixir.

She shampooed and conditioned and slowly but surely over a few weeks, her hair started being soft again and shiny, but not as much as it could be and not so bouncy. Then she found the Chi flat iron, which was very, very spendy, but her hair was shinier and softer after using it, too. Then just a drop of Chi Silk Infusion right out of the shower just made it silkier and shinier, but it needed something else, something she had been lusting after for months…

the thing that was supposed to not damage your hair at all when it was drying, the thing that was was supposed to leave hair even shinier after drying, the thing that could leap damaged hair in a single bound and stop lifeless locks with a puff of air. It was all silver slickness and even spendier than the flat iron, but she finally gave in during a moment of weakness and ordered it (eBay, natch, way less than Sephora). The T3 Tourmaline Evolution!!!

It showed up on its UPS Carriage, and she took it and all of her other shampoos and conditioners and infusions and flatirons, closed herself in the bathroom to see if she could recreate the hair of her youth.

20 Minutes later (ionic dryers are super-fast!) she at last had swingy, bouncy, shiny hair, full of lovely golden highlights.

The moral of this story? If you spend enough, your hair doesn’t have to turn into Old Lady Hair.ÂIs it worth it? Probably not, but, damn, my hair looks good!

For the throngs of people who stopped by today and noticed that the comments section doesn’t work on my brilliant Life Gives You Lemons post (just how prescient was that title?), stay tuned, the forces of good are at work on this glitch.

Here’s a great image I haven’t been able to work into a post:

When life gives you lemons you put them in perfume, of course. What could be more delicious than a lemon in fragrance? Sadly, many of them end up smelling more like Lemon Pledge, or that goofy Love Fresh Lemon I wore as a kid. Actually, I just googled images of the original Love Fresh Lemon (made by the Baby Soft people, remember?) and there it is! $4.50 on Amazon. Worth it just for the trip down memory lane

But now I;m all grown up, and here are two of my favorite lemon fragrances, opposite ends of the lemon spectrum:

James Abbott McNeill Whistler
Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket
artchive.com
Carthusia Mediterraneo — Robin at NST and I share a deep, abiding love for this one. While it would be a natural in summer, it’s perfect for right now, for last fall, for 2007, it’s just perfect. It is. Their website is very coy, and I’m not going to dignify their marketing story by quoting it here (the hills of Capri are alive with the music of tiny singing monks gathering precious posies by moonlight, or whatnot). I think they admit to lemon leaves and green tea. To that list I’ll add liquid sunshine and tiny singing monk love. My only complaint is that it doesn’t last long enough (say, until early May?) but for $65 for 1.7 ounces, what do I want? Just buy the dang bottle. Try Aedes, I think they delivered my last order before I’d logged off my computer.
Philtre d’Amour, Guerlain — If this fragrance were a painting, it would be a Whistler nocturne, a burst of gold dazzling in an inky sky. I owe my impossible adoration of this one to Columbina, who reviewed the 1999 discontinued version. She mentioned it had been re-released, but Boisdejasmin said she had a sample of the new juice and was underwhelmed. I got a dab of the original 1999 vintage just to add it to the Guerlain Reject Pile, and  I fell in love, isn’t it always that way? I asked Boisdejasmin to do an actual side-by-side comparison of the original and the re-release and she said: your (vintage) sample wins. It is longer lasting and richer. Carnation/isoeugenol is gone in the new version (no doubt, to comply with IFRA regulations) and the entire thing is as interesting as …. well, not very. If I were to buy, I would definitely go with the old one.
So I did. It took me awhile to get my mitts on a bottle, I kept getting outbid, and I ended up paying some stupid money, which I sat around regretting until the phial showed up and I swooned all over again. Notes: lemon, bergamot, verbena, jasmine, petitgrain, neroli, myrtle, patchouli.
Philtre smells like heaven, a heaven made primarily of Lemonhead Candy as rendered by Guerlain. It opens with a glorious burst of citrus that is admittedly more ReaLemon than real lemon, brightened up by the sparkle of the classic Guerlainade, with a tiny dollop of the Skank which I prize so highly in my preciousssssssss, er, my Guerlains. The last bottle I watched on Le Bay went for $132 for 30 ml (approximately 1 ounce). I paid more than that, and it’s worth every damn penny.

Quick perfume review — Hermes new Terre D’Hermes. If Vetiver Tonka is my crack, this one is like Crack In the Morning. Jean Claude has somehow combined the most addictive elements of Vetiver Tonka and Un Jardin Sur le Nil. It has that velvety smoothness of VT that I adore and then that subtle tang that makes your nostrils flares and your eyes open a little wider of Sur le Nil.

Crack in the morning — wakes you up and then smooooooooths you right out for the day. Lovely juice. I have no idea why they think this is a men’s scent. It is great for a man or woman, but my husband is going to have to pry it out of my hands.

Not sure where all it is being sold yet, I got my bottle directly from Hermes, but I assume it and samples are available at the Hermes boutiques and will be showing up at your Pricier Department Stores throughout the world shortly.

“Top notes of gardenia, Italian bergamot, and narcisse mingle with the heart notes of tuberose, ylang ylang and jasmine on a redolent base of orange blossom and musk, approaching the fragrance of the deity. Our Beyond Forever perfume vessel is rendered in 10K gold overlay formed in the image of the goddess Hathor. She rests in black velvet, lying deep within her sanctuary, concealed behind the inscribed temple doors.”

Mother of God, that’s a lot to unpack and translate into English. Basically, it’s a nice little scent that goes on pretty heavy on the sweet in the narcisse and gardenia, not getting much bergamot, which it could have benefited from, and if there’s musk in this, it’s left the building or is just hiding in the basement from the Narcisse and Gardenia, hoping it will stop hogging the rest of the house. I tried this yesterday, and it just disappeared on me mid-day, and trying it again this morning is not helping. It distinctly reminds me of something, maybe Chloe or Chloe Narcisse? I’m not sure a deity would have worn this, but the packaging is pretty, and it wins, hands down, the Pretentious Scent of the Year Award — not for the description, which would easily qualify it, though I’ve seen some pretty stiff competition (hello, Abinoams, you are lovely, but your descriptions, gag!).

No, it wins because of how it Came To Be. The scent collection came from Dr. Janet Piedilato as a part of “relaxation and individuation therapies.” Huh? Is that the Find the Inner Goddess in a Perfume Therapy? Hokay, but it could be a Short Trip to Crazytown if you keep riding that “I am a Goddess In My Own Mind” train. They were blended to bring individual peace and balance. The imagery on the packaging was intended to “deepen the experience and to awaken the individual to hidden wisdom and healing.” With 10K gold on the bottle, I think it more likely to awaken my visions of bankruptcy if I actually loved this, and that does not strike me as wise or healing. Reading through the descriptions and background on the Immaginal site is funny at first, then just exhausting in how seriously it takes itself.

Please, I have so little patience for this stuff, it just makes me nuts. Enlightenment in a Damn Bottle does not exist, and I get so weary of anyone trying to sell a scent based on emotional promises of some inner nirvana that it can create if you but shell out the dough and apply liberally. If someone really wants to go that route, then make a kick-ass perfume so I’ll point and laugh at the description while swooning over the juice. My inner peace is usually found in places like the one in the picture, being in awe of how small and insignificant we are in a great, big, beautiful world, but how precious each of us are, despite our insignificance.

It’s perfume, not The Guided Path to Heightened Humanity. ::::heavy sigh:::::

** pretty wheatfield picture found at http://www.dkfoundation.co.uk/FriendsFoundationMotherNatureInnerNature.htm
** Picture of the Immaginal found at their website, www.immaginal.com

It was time for an overhaul, so March and I stressed and plotted and planned and then had Lisa at E. Webscapes, who also did my last blog design) put it together, and she made it better than we saw in our heads.

We’ll just twirl around a bit so you can see our pretty pink panties.

Today’s musings were triggered by Aquolina Chocolovers, which I sampled at Sephora. Nobody loves chocolate more than I do. I consider chocolate one of my major food sources. Chocolovers is a gourmand fragrance, with a sweet cocoa opening and a long-lasting chocolate-dust follow up. It’s redeemed for me by significant red-pepper-type heat in the drydown, which keeps it more in the range of chocolate mole and less chocolate icing.

While I admit that by any objective and subjective measure I found Chocolovers pleasing, is not something I would ever want to wear. Tobacco, iris, incense, or cypress? Sure. But chocolate? No thanks.

I can’t think of a single dessert or food-y fragrance offhand that I love. I keep trying to sort out why. A number of them are toothache-sweet, and I’m not fond of sugar-cookie smells unless they’re coming from the oven.

Do I have some sort of bias against gourmand fragrances? Something deeply rooted in my id or DNA that doesn’t want to smell edible? I like tea fragrances a lot, why not coffee or chocolate? Intrigued, I rooted around in the candy box for more samples to test and found:

CDG Series 7 Sweet: Spicy Cocoa huh. I was fully prepared to dislike this based on the name. It started off as exactly what it’s called — cocoa, with a hint of citrus, like one of those chocolate oranges from my Christmas stockings of yore. But 15 minutes later it does a clever morph into cocoa combined with Versace Dreamer and pipe tobacco, with a big pinch of cayenne. The longer I smell this, the more I like it — but it doesn’t really smell like cocoa for long.

CDG Series 7 Sweet: Wood Coffee Dark, thick coffee, with a tiny bit of syrup sweetness (think Turkish coffee), consumed in Gepetto’s workshop, surrounded by wood shavings. Does that sound unappealing? It’s sort of … attractive. I’m huffing the back of my hand like a blue tick hound, which means there is only one thing left to do:

CDG Spicy Cocoa layered with Wood Coffee Eureka! This adds to the lasting power, too.

Oh, look, here’sAva Luxe Cafe Noir. I’m a little put off by its color, which is somewhere between maple syrup and cranberry juice. On me it is, well, cafe noir — black coffee, with a little spice and maybe a pinch of sandalwood in the base. I could use this on one wrist to clear my nose between sniffs of other things. Again, the Chocolovers Conundrum — it’s a gorgeous smell, because coffee is a gorgeous smell. But if you gave me a bottle of this juice I doubt I’d ever wear it. I want to consume the coffee, the chocolate, the cookie, the pumpkin pie. I don’t want to wear them.

So. Help me out here. Do you have a favorite fragrance that smells like something from the bakery or the coffee shop? What is it and why do you like it?

Image: www.shokoladki.ru (hey, ladies, is that Russian for chocolate? Great word!)

It will always be a mystery why I bother hunting down discontinued perfumes that people used to love, except that I want to smell for myself what that juice was like and if they made a good choice to discontinue it.

When I heard about Mea Culpa from Parfums de Rosine, I had to sniff it. Mostly because I love every last Rosine perfume I have tried, I like the name, and because this wasn’t a strictly rose perfume. Sorta like asking Brittney not to go barefoot into a gas station bathroom — how can such a thing come to be?

A review by Victoria at Bois de Jasmin:

“Mea Culpa opens up with creamy white roses and a hint of tuberose before losing some of the sweetness and gaining an aquatic quality. Tuberose is never pronounced, although it does become more apparent in the middle. Rather it hides in the background and adds a lush quality to other notes.” You can follow the link to read the rest of her thoughts.

This does go on with a pretty gush of lightness, and settles into a delicate tuberose, to be sure, so delicate, I can’t really find it much. I do get the jasmine. It is an elegant scent that is very wearable. While it is not focused on roses, it does have that well-put-together de Rosine stamp all over it.

But to be honest? I think it’s good they stuck with all-out rose scents, which they do spectacularly. This is nice, and I like the treatment they did of tuberoses, but it’s not spectacular in that same way, and it would get lost in a sea of the soaring roses they do so well. Another perfume company could probably take this perfume and do really well with it.

If anyone has not tried the de Rosine roses yet, you must try them, even if you don’t think you like rose perfumes. You still may not after you sniff them, but at least you will know what a good one smells like. I know Aedes now carries them, and you can get samples there, and I think Beautyhabit has them as well, and they have a sample program as well. Once you try them, you “get” why they do roses only and do them better than anyone else.

If anyone wants a sample or decant of the Mea Culpa just to try for yourself, let me know, and I’ll send you some or the whole bottle to pass on to the next person that would like to try it. I think it’s definitely worth smelling for those of you like me who just want to know, and I suspect that it would find some people who would fall in love with it.

Now… guess what else I got in the mail? My other two Abinoams, Cobice and Beleza. I am hard pressed to decide which I like better, Cobice or Corazon. They were the two I liked the least just reading the notes. So odd.

Have I mentioned how much I love Autumn at La Creme lately? I do, I really, really do. I picked up the Yu-Be skin cream from her. I have the driest hands in the world in the winter, applying cream about 45 times a day. This stuff is unbelievably emollien and sticks well without being sticky or greasy in the leastt, I may never need another cream for my hands.

Anyway, that’s where I got the Abinoams, and she does have a sample program now, which I’m so happy to see! She’s got some other interesting things up there that I intend to get to. One is the Immaginal, which just sounds weird, but has captured my interest because it’s so flippin’ weird sounding. More on that later this week. But to tease you, here’s the blurb on the package: “From the watery abyss of the unconscious to the mysterious infernos of the ocean depths arises Immaginal, a feast for body, mind and spirit, consciousness made manifest, the ritual of beauty through sacred space and transformative scent.” Nope, haven’t smelled it yet, I’m just savoring the opening, all that watery sacred abyss has me worried.

Also, will be reviewing my T3 Tourmaline Evolution hair dryer as soon as it comes in, hopefully this week. Wheeee!!!!

Picture from this site, which I don’t know what it is since it is in a foreign language, but they have lots of interesting pictures there.

Well, it sounds like the Mona di Orio Carnation is a bit of a dud, since Colombina reviewed it and it doesn’t smell much like, you know, carnation. That is such a letdown for me. I love that spicy floral smell. So here’s a quick plug for one of my favorite little treats, Carnation soap, from Roger & Gallet.

It is my ideal carnation fragrance — the perfect spicy, clean, slightly sweet smell. I like keeping the little guest soaps around because they’re pretty and they scent my bathrooms for quite some time in a way that never becomes cloying. Unlike some of my fragrant friends, I am not especially fond of scented product (lotions, powders, bath oils and salts, etc.). These soaps are my one exception. I buy them at the local mom-and-pop urban market, although they’re available online from any number of places in bath, travel, and guest soap sizes. They’re long lasting, and one of life’s little luxuries ($18 for a beautiful box of 3 soaps). The soaps themselves leave enough perfume on my hands and body to be pleasing rather than irritating, and they get along famously with my fairly sensitive, dry skin. (How dry? My hand and facial moisturizer is a small bottle of organic olive oil. No, seriously.)

Roger & Gallet soaps come in fern, carrot, lettuce, blue lotus and ginger, in addition to the more staid vetiver, gardenia, tea rose and almond blossom. There are other fragrances and matching products like lotions, shower gels and EDTs, if you fall in love with something. Browsing online they have a cologne that sounds just wonderful, and a delicious-sounding line called Aroma Shiso that I haven’t tried yet.

On www.beautyexclusive.com, how yummy do these sound? (EDTs $33 and Shower Gel $12):

Roger & Gallet Eau pour Soi Collection (NEW!)
A true waterfall of sparkling, bold notes (Tangerine, Grapefruit, Blackberry, and Fig Leaves), pleasantly refreshing and invigorating. Lightly scented with a sumptuous floral harmony of Jasmine, Iris, Rose, and the natural voluptuousness of its discrete woody complement (Cedar, Vanilla, Sandalwood).

Roger & Gallet Pavot d’Argent Collection (NEW!)
With Pavot d’Argent, Roger & Gallet presents a new take one of its greatest creations. This fragrance, inspired by a historic floral perfume of the 1930s, is interpreted in a totally new version which takes you on a unique journey to the mysterious heart of the Poppy Flower, wrapped in a cloak of precious, luminous essences. A sparkling top note of fresh citrus scents (Bergamot and Yuzu), a middle note of dazzling, rare, opulent flowers, the signature of absolute femininity (Poppy Flower, Bulgarian Rose, and Jasmine), and a bewitching base note of warm, woody accords (Vetiver, Patchouli, and Amber).

Roger & Gallet White Reseda Collection (NEW!)
An homage to the Reseda flower. The women’s fragrance by Roger & Gallet unfolds a warm and radiant bouquet of white flowers and precious essences — Sicilian Mandarin Orange, Yellow Freesia, Reseda, Orange Blossom, and Daffodil from the French Provence — over a delicate woody base with a sensual, transparent fragrant trail.

Hmmm. Excuse me, I have to go dig up my credit card…

March did most — all of the legwork on this, and she’s done most of getting this post together because she knows how slammed I’ve been. I am grateful to my dear friend for giving me the research and her comments, it will speed this post up a bit!

From the Abinoam press release:

The brand’s concept is inspired by the eternal inner-struggle between darkness and light. The name Abinoam is an oblique reference meaning “father of kindness” from the Book of Judges. “The meaning of the name is beautiful”, says Kareema, “but when you see it in print or just say it, the word projects a dark, mysterious aura. This one word, I felt, exemplified the spirit of the fragrance”. Kareema took this a step further during the blending process. “Each fragrance was carefully orchestrated so that as the notes dried down, the fragrance became darker and more sensual”. The common theme tying the perfumes together is the use of notes that have been historically used as aphrodisiacs.

Yeah, yeah, light, dark, yin/yang, we get it, this is artsy niche stuff that has a theme and a purpose besides just smelling good.

“Corazón- Intoxicating and seductive, Spicy Kenyan Pink Pepper tempered by Moroccan Jasmine, Floral and Woody Accords all gently caressed into submission by Green Tea and Amber.”

From March: Corazon is absolutely wonderful, with the peppery opening closely followed by the jasmine, uh, caressing the green tea into submission (bleagh — who writes this stuff?!?!). Really, though, the Dance of the Green Tea and Jasmine is a new, different, strange thing that I can’t stop sniffing.

From Patty: I agree. This is a subtle little thing in all its tarting around with the green tea and jasmine. I wore it all day and I’d keep catching whiffs of this really nice scent that was a very different blend. I don’t smell the amber so much, it tends to lie down and behave, which is a good thing for me. This one has some nice lasting power, still going, though fainter, from 6a to 9p tonight. A winner in this line, definitely.

“Desejo- A carnal interpretation of Pomegranate; the beguiling symbol of fertility. Top notes of Pomegranate, Cassis and Peach flow seamlessly into Violet, Ylang Ylang, and Ghanan Cacao before settling on a bed of Bulgarian Blond Tobacco, Vanilla and Amber.”

From March: The Desejo… well, I will say up front — I am not a fruit-salad girl, and a fragrance based around pomegranate, peach and cassis was not designed to seduce me. I find it extremely fruity and overly sweet, and I don’t think the greeen-vanillic ylang tang is improving matters.

From Patty: Now, I dig this one, no big surprise since I like fruity florals. Love the pomegranate right up front, pomegranate and me go together like Kelly Bundy and stupid - except when it is in that nasty cobwebby pomegranate thing from Jo Malone - and it does go on a little sweet, and then the vanilla kicks in. This feels like my vacation in the Turks and Caicos — slow, lazy, rich, a little sweet, but in a way that feels good, not little girly. I’ve had more trouble with this in the drydown. Not that I dislike it, but just in figuring out what is working and what isn’t. If you don’t like fruity florals, this one is not going to change your mind a bit, but if you are fond of them, this is one you will love. It turns into a very subtle thing. Hard to describe.

“Cobice- Luxurious exotic notes of Indonesian Patchouli and Leather Accords juxtaposed with the sweetness of Green Apple and Bamboo Flowers.”

From Patty: The notes in this just screamed MISTAKE!!! Who in the hell throws green apple, leather and patch together? It was with great trepidation that I put it on, held my breath and got ready with the lysol. Holy Moly, this is some great juice. I love apple in a perfume done well, and the bamboo and leather and patchouli just hold it together nicely so it doesn’t go over the top. As the apple tart-sweet top notes fade fairly quickly, this turns into a great scent, the sweetness lessening into a - don’t laugh - slightly fruity leather, and I mean that in a really good way. It’s just not like anything else I’ve smelled. I’ve only got a sample of this, but this is going to require a bottle just to be sure, it needs spritzing.

“Beleza- A warm, sexy Oriental fragrance. Sandalwood from Mysore and Musk form the scenery in which delicate Orchid flowers and the bouquet of Tahitian Vanilla Bean dance together in a beautiful ballet.”

From Patty: Now, this is the one I like the least, and in this grouping, that’s not putting it into a scent that I don’t like since I’ve quite liked all four, loved a couple of them - but mostly because I’m not a big sandalwood fan. As sandalwoods go, it’s a good blend, and I’d certainly wear it, though just these particular notes aren’t ones that appeal to me on first read, and the top notes don’t do it for me, but the drydown is lovely. The Vanilla Bean peeps through mildly and pretty much brings this together.

Surprise! - the press release on the deepening and getting richer part is true. All four of these scents go through a lot of changes and turn into four very wearable and very different scents.

The line is available from La Creme and the always awesome Autumn. It runs $105 for 50ml. So not an inexpensive line at all, but in line with the other high end niche perfumes. And the bottles with the little atomizers are adorable and really work pretty well. If you’re on the fence and love the bottle, go buy one!

If I had a buck for every fragrance sample I’ve sniffed in the last six months that left a little something to be desired, I could buy myself one of those big fat bottles of non-export Serge Lutens at the Palais Royale.

So it’s nice to get a set of samples and realize that, not only is there no dud in the bunch, but someone has been taking the Perfume Magic assignment seriously.

Without further ado, it is my great pleasure to introduce the DelRaes.

Parfums DelRae was founded by DelRae Roth in 2000. If I’m understanding correctly, Michel Roudnitska, the son of perfumer Edmond Roudnitska, collaborated on all four scents in the Parfums Delrae line — Eau Illuminee, Amoureuse, Bois de Paradis, and Debut.

Here they are, in my order of preference:

Bois de Paradis citrus, French rose, cinnamon and blackberry, fig, spices, woods and amber.

This would have been my fourth choice on paper; it’s my first based on smell! I’m just wild for this thing, which goes against all expectations.

First of all, rose, cinnamon and fig is sooooooooooooooo not my idea of heaven. Second, Paradis also proves to be that Great Oxymoron: the Wearable Sandalwood. Perfume-wise, sandalwood (go ahead, shoot me) translates on me into Body Odor. I can’t think of too many fragrances I really like with a generous amount of sandalwood. It’s not only omnipresent in this one, it’s gorgeous, and Paradis is unmistakeably sexy. A stunner.

Eau Illuminee bergamot, basil, French lavender, wild aromatic herbs, vanilla, tonka beans, orris

This one is least like the other three, and probably most like something you’ve already smelled many times, although perhaps not quite so pleasantly as you smell it here. This is the Gold Medalist in the Quintessential Cologne category, with the bergamot, basil, lavender and herbs doing what they do best, against a warm vanilla base. Before you dismiss it as just another cologne, however, I can’t think of another unisexy-cologne-type fragrance (think green, sparkle, summer) that I’ve fallen quite this hard for. I would love to smell this on a man. Or a woman. Or my dog. Really, now that I think about it, everyone on the planet should wear this.

Amoureuse — tangerine, cardamom, tuberose, jasmine, ginger lily, cedar moss, sandalwood, honey.

I am not a big fan of Heady White Florals; in general I find them too cloying. In this one, however, the tangerine and cardamom give a little citrus buzz and some spice to blow the stink off, as my grandmother might say. This one I would definitely wear, although I swear it smells like linden to me. Linden haters (and you know who you are): consider yourselves warned.

Debut - Bergamot, Lime, Ylang ylang, fresh leaves, Lily of the Valley, Linden blossom, Cyclamen, Vetiver, Sandalwood, Musk

This is the most recent addition to the line and the one I was betting I would like best based on the reviews. Naturally, it ended up being the least successful for me. It is a lovely composition, not overly sweet, and it contains some of my favorite individual perfume notes. On me, it starts off in a glorious burst of lime, ylang and bergamot, but goes all wrong somehow after the first five minutes, with the green notes and the Lily of the Valley combining into a weird Axis of Evil sour/sweetness, something like old tea. I’m going to blame it on my skin and/or the “fresh leaves.” I still think it’s a winner, though, really — just not on me.

Henri Rousseau, The Dream
William Hodges, Tahiti Revisited

I had hoped to get to the Abinoams today, the two I have, but they are eluding me yet, just in trying to figure out if I like like them or love them or am indifferent.

Instead, I have saffron on my mind and in my hand and on both arms! One of the most desired and expensive spices in ancient times, this is a spice that always conjures up pictures of Marco Polo meandering through the orient, with a fortune of rare spices and fabrics on his camels headed back to Venice.

Saffron is rich and pungent, and I love it in my paella. My family won’t let me make Paella anymore because I go too heavy on the piment and saffron and nobody else but me will eat it, and the house just reeks of those two spices for days. I ♥ Love ♥ it! I started putting piment on everything, and they cut me off and hid all my cans of it. Dirty bastards.

L’Artisan’s Safran Troublant and Laura Tonnato’s Safram are two very different treatments of saffron, but having similarities.

LT’s Safram is sweeter. It goes on with a slightly medicinal edge, but quickly mellows into a nice, sweet saffron smell which certainly does justice to saffron. Not sickeningly sweet, but it just seems to lack some of the saffron pungency that I crave. If you like your saffron to stay pretty and a little sweet, the Safram is a good choice.

L’Artisan’s Safram Troublant is a smeeeelllly saffron, and I mean that in a good way. It has that pungent reek that hits your nose and makes you go “oh, yes, baby, i like it like that.” It is hard for me to believe this has vanillla in it at all, though I can catch it a little bit every now and then, and that seems to round off any rough edges of the saffron and adds to it, but not in any way that seems to be vanillaish.

I can say I like them both, but the L’Artisan seems to be the truer rendition in capturing that saffron pungency, while keepin it wearable. Not an easy feat. As much as I love saffron, I would never just smear that stuff on and wear it out the door.

The Abinoams, just a word on them. The Desejo, just reading the notes, was the one I thought I would love, and when I spray it, that pomegranate is just stunning and biting and sweet. So I could say on the first spray, it’s gorgeous, but then it changes and gets more complicated, and that’s why I’m having trouble with it.

More on that later this week. I may work through some of the other of the four Abinoams first. This is training week, so I’ll have to relax my usual well-researched and thoughtful posting standards. Okay, try not to laugh too hard at that last sentence.