It’s been a long while since we did Trashy Friday, and since I seem to manage about one episode of Nawt every other week, and it’s summer, and I just can’t seem to get serious about anything, let’s comb through our trashy culture this week and see what’s new.

Amanda Lepore is looking to get into beauty products — could a perfume be around the corner. All my dreams of smelling like botox, silicone and rubber could come true!

Britney may have served her mom with a restraining order.

Paris is out of jail, has gotten religion, but can’t pick a favorite bible verse, and vows to reform her life.  Do you believe her?  Do you care?

Do we think Lindsay’s rehab is taking this time? Given that she’s extending her stay in rehab… maybe?  And is it really possible that she may get the starring role as Paris Hilton on a movie of Paris’ life?  Isn’t Paris like 22?  Can you even have lived enough to have a movie made on your life?  With Britney doing the soundtrack to the movie… *rolls eyes* 

You’re getting some Christian Bale eye candy just because… he’s gorgeous, even when no, especially when he’s all scruffy.  I never loved Batman until he slipped into the rubber suit.

Favorite self-tanners this year.  On the more inexpensive side, you cannot beat L’Oreal Sublime Glow daily moisturizer. Goes on great, has a nice color, not orange, blends easily, doesn’t turn into a mess with multiple applications, which was the problem I ran into with the Jergens one.  The more expensive favorite is Lancome Flash Bronzer glow “n Wear.  It has more of a tint in it, so you get an immediate nice tan bronzey color, but you have to be a little more careful on application to make sure it blends and covers.  Both have a pretty glow to them.  Favorite face bronzer is the Lancome Flash Bronzer, the companion to the Flash Bronzer Glow ‘N Wear.

My favorite reality guilty pleasure of the summer, besides the upcoming Big brother, is PirateMaster.  I hate that show, honest, it’s a train wreck with almost no likable characters, but every week I’m back watching Those Pirate Wannabes make asses out of themselves.  Best reality so far this summer is So You Think You Can Dance. Great dancers this year, it’s hard to pick less than five favorites. But if they do not toss Cedric this week, then they need new judges. Lovely young man with a good dance skill, but this contest does not fit his kind of dancing at all.

Chef shows — I have to watch both Top Chef and Hell’s Kitchen. Gordon Ramsey makes them cry, and Top Chef actually has people who can cook, so I’m less guilty watching that Top Chef, but they both amuse me mightily for different reasons.  Micah leaving on Top Chef was beyond welcome. What a whiney cook.   She would go on and on about missing her daughter when she was doing poorly and was silent on that when things were going good.  There IS no crying or whining in cooking.  Criminy!

Finally got ’round to reading the last Harry Potter book, the Half-Blood Prince. Yes, I know, I’m slow, but I needed to get it done before the new movie and book comes out in July.

Okay, admit it, you missed Trashy Friday, the post you can miss… but why when it takes so little brain power to read? Have a great weekend! 

Hey, everybody! Theoretically I am in Bangkok today, and if I can figure out what time it is, and what day it is, I’ll be responding to comments.

We got a question recently about layering fragrances — what are some of our favorite scent combinations? Any recommendations on approach? Etc.

I think Lee and I both responded that we tend to layer scents by accident (this is what happens when you sample six or more fragrances a day). I don’t layer much on purpose. But I know a lot of you do, and over the course of the last year you’ve left many, many individual comments about layering on different posts.

Today I’m inviting you to list your favorite layering combinations of fragrances, so they’ll all be in one place, as well as any advice you have on the topic. And any questions — you all are great at carrying on conversational threads!

My two cents (scents? har):

Fendi Theorema layered with Donna Karan Chaos. Off the top of my head, this is the only layering combo I can think of that I do fairly regularly (albeit in winter.) Regular readers know that Theorema and Chaos are two of my favorite fragrances. Theorema’s base has a Chaos-like note, and the two of them together is every bit as stunning as they are individually.

CB Musk Reinvention with your favorite jasmine. The skank of CB Musk + the indoles of jasmine = nirvana. Would probably work great with any big white floral fragrance.

All-purpose fragrance improver — if I’m bored, if it’s insipid, if it’s fading, if it needs more base — a spritz of L’Artisan’s Passage d’Enfer fixes many, many fragrances.

Okay — your turn!

About the photos: remember awhile back I wrote about my marathon wrestling match to get the Summer Wine climbing roses I’d planted trellised to the back of the house before they ate the children and the dog? Here’s what they look like this summer; it’s hard to tell from the photo but the top of the roses are about 12 feet off the ground. That’s my lavender just getting ready to bloom under the roses, and my oenothera (evening primrose) blooming pink all across the bottom. Not bad for a three year-old flower bed, eh?

There’s a Miller Harris winner to receive the vials of all twenty scents and purty box. Name at the end. First, on with business.

You know something - I’ve been unfair to Miller Harris and given them an inappropriate amount of short shrift (can one do such a thing?), probably because I couldn’t look beyond the sharp ‘perfumeyness’ of the first few I ever sniffed. As my nose has matured, I’ve realised that there is a quality to some chypres and a few aldehydic fragrances that I classify as ‘perfumey’ and haven’t, at least until recently, wished to go any deeper. Call it the MUA grandma syndrome, if you wish. There’s been, for me at least, too big an area to explore elsewhere. But now, I’ve been sated temporarily in exploring the outer fringes of the niche world and perhaps should give myself a few lessons in back-to-basics. This doesn’t mean I’ll ever learn to love Eau de Soir or Baghari though.

On with the Miller Harrises. Twenty scents - too many to hold in your head, too many to be fair with in your appraisal. Tough luck, buddy. In no particular order (with the binomial MH scent description in parentheses):

Tangerine Vert (gentle citrus) - like so few fragrances, matches its name exactly in the first five minutes, then becomes an orange blossom whine and then possibly an invisible musk. Fleeting as a wink from a stranger. And less exciting.

Jasmin Vert (elegant floral) - jasmine weaves in and out of a broad brushstroke floral bouquet, with no poop nearby, unfortunately. Very pretty.

l’air de rien (sensual oriental) - so innocuous on paper, like its ee cummings styled name; on skin, you become sweet, salty, post-coital.

Fleur Oriental (sensual floral) - loud as a teenager-in-tantrums before, thirty minutes in, becoming a powdered caress from a favourite aunt. I know that’s an inappropriate image - somehow it feels right. Sorry. Blame l’air de rien.

Feuilles de Tabac (rich woods) - I thought I loved this. I was wrong. A spicy yet clean sweetness tempers the tobacco and makes it, in the end, too pale, too mild for me. I like a bit of rough. I’ll go for full on Vintage Tabarome or the elegant dominatrix Tabac Blond before this wan wonder.

Terre de Bois (woody classic) - my latest favourite. Opens with the crispness of verbena before developing a straightforward but still novel cologne quality, without losing a delightful woody/soapy focus. It smells like an old-school French fragrance for men, reformulated to make it better. I’d love a bottle for autumn please.

Geranium Bourbon (elegant floral) - I imagine this will be lovely commenter Elle’s nightmare fragrance, because it does smell very much like high quality Bourbon geranium oil, fancied up a lot. Multi-faceted in its rosy sparkle, it has an almost air freshener quality to it and to my mind would work best as a luxurious bath oil or candle.

Terre d’Hiris (light chypre) - an über-woman scent. She means business. High-pitched, clipcloppy heels. No messing. A ‘perfumey’ perfume for the first ten minutes, before becoming more raspy and interesting. But not how I like my iris buttered.

Coeur d’Été (innocent floral) - what’s innocent about a big banana, cos that’s where this starts off. However, aside from that, this is a light, playful, clean and remarkably inoffensive fruity floral, though more floral and less fruit over time.

Cuir d’Oranger (luxurious leather) - with that name, it sounds like it should be like Lutens’s Cuir Mauresque, in style, execution and development. But it isn’t, much. It’s very neroli to start with (too much for this occasional blossomphobe), but then, as it transforms into a mossy madam, invitingly slapping her leathery britches, there’s a magic to its ugly-beautifulness. Of all MH’s limited editions, this one strikes me as the finest. I admire it very much; I think I could love it. Whether it could replace the aforementioned Serge in my heart though…

En Sens de Bois (sensual wood) - less sensual, more anti-social. A quiet, reflective scent of smoke and faded greenery. A bonfire melds its final embers with the damp autumnal mists. A Keatsian scent poem where grey replaces sepia.

Piment des Baies (fresh spicy) - I should love this and in fact with every test I’ve wanted to sniff it more and more and more… It’s a glutton’s fragrance with its nutmeggy roundness; rich, but somehow clear and clean. However, there’s a little something in there - I can’t define it - that brings out the Quease Factor in me. Something too delicious like the final slice of cake that hurts, even as you scoff it? And, though my brain says, ‘Oh please mister, we want more’ (it’s the little people living there who talk in a chorus of pleading approval), my guts roll and boil and say, ‘We’re shutting you down!’

Coeur de Fleur (delicate floral) - how nice to rhyme, especially in French. The heart of this floral feat is supposedly sweet pea, a flower I know very well. But I get lots of rose withsome fruity sweetness underneath. A rounded perfume, nonetheless, without the rose’s sometimes acid yelp.

Vetiver Bourbon (classic vetiver) - Vetiver Extraordinaire is this chap’s country cousin, or perhaps how he appears when he’s off Bunburying. Back in the city, he’s polished his shoes, put on his fancypants and donned a cravat to match his smoking jacket. I’m not sure I can ‘do’ the earthy side of vetiver that well, but if you like it, this sophisticated take on the genre is excellently rendered.

Figue Amere (salty figs) - muted fig leaves made savoury and nutty by salt. I only have room for one fig in my heart, and the use of cedar and coconut in Giacobetti’s inspired Philosykos violently elbows this more muted green to one side.

Fleurs de Sel (sensual earthy) - Miss C. Sage goes to visit holistic uncle Sam Salt at the seaside for some shoulder salve.

Eau de Vert (green cologne) - herbal, truly delightful, but wildly expensive (£95) for a fleeting cologne. This starts vibrantly green in an artemisia style before becoming a musky mossy whisper of a scent.

Fleur du Matin (green fresh floral - the binomial system of classification has collapsed - this must be a cultivar… pathetic horticultural joke: apologies) - Fresh (a favoured word amongst perfume copywriters and the less nasally experienced, but here, true), crisp, sparkling. Like a l’Eau de l’Artisan where honeysuckle replaces grass.

Citron Citron (vibrant citrus) - actually quite sweet for a few minutes before developing a unpindownable hesperidic accord - lime and lemon and orange all at once. Grapefruit is generally my favourite citrus scent note, and this doesn’t have that bitter edge that I need in such a fragrance. Still, it’s high quality and long-lasting, whilst not holding my interest. A great summer easywear scent, like jogging pants and a T-shirt.

Noix de Tubéreuse (exotic tuberose) - winner alert! Bryan, have you smelled this? Lyn Harris makes great claims for its butteriness, but boy, is she right. So rich, rounded and creamy it seems edible. Sensual by default. Gourmand raunch (but it’s by no means a foodie scent). Probably too much for summer, too much for more than a couple of drops, but this beauty has given me the metaphorical horn. And they say men don’t like tuberose scents. Hubba hubba…

In summary, these aren’t the shrill, sharp old school terrors I associate with my primary school teacher (so fierce, she’d melt your face if she stared at you), but a varied and interesting range of worthy and sometimes exciting perfumes. And although the line isn’t exactly what I normally look for in scent, there are two bottleworthy numbers here (i.e. worth parting with my rapidly decreasing perfume cash for): Terre de Bois for me, and Noix de Tubéreuse for a woman with suitably buttery cleavage. Yoohoo! Chaya! I want to spray between your boobiedoos…

Ahem. The winner of this collection of 2ml vials (which I now wish I was keeping) is Elve. Who says the early bird catches the worm? Elve, I’m mailing you!

But First! (Yes, it is almost Big Brother season and the ubiquitous Julie Chen “But First!” I fly my Freak Flag proudly on what a big fan I am of this show.  About one more week before it starts, yeah!!! )  The winner from the last drawing I had, which was a sample set of CB Greenbriar 1968, I am a Dandelion, Eternal Return; Memoire Liquide Fleur de Tabac, Vetiver, Liaison Secrete; Micallef Black Sea; Opium parfum, and I’ll probably throw in a sample of CB’s Wild Hunt and Arbor absolute. That post had the highest number of comments ever…. 190!!! Yoiks!  In celebration, let’s do two sample sets. See, it pays to comment, better chances.  Winners are… Chelsey and Gina!  Hit that contact Us button over there and shoot me your address. I’m still waiting on more Black Sea to show up this week.

So, those of you that are old hands, do you miss the days when you were a beginning perfumista?  Everything you smelled was new and fresh, especially as you ventured into the whole niche arena. It’s like discovering Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” or Leonard Cohen for the first time. Your nose, while young and inexperienced, is smelling something not like anything else.  Well, I do.   It’s not that there aren’t a lot of great old and new scents out there still to be discovered, but I sometimes think I rushed through smelling so many things so fast, I should have paused and taken longer to run through them, enjoyed them a little more, savored them.

For those that have gone through a lot of perfume sniffing, what would be your Five Year Plan for Perfumistas just starting out or just one suggestion for that plan?  I hope to collect these and hopefully make them into another post. What would you do differently if you were to start your perfume journey all over again?

How, I don’t do poetry or Haiku or other verse of any sort, so this is my summary of the rest of the Bruno Acamporas in short, nonsensical, random nonverse — pretty much how I write all the time, but abbreviated:

Sballo — Hay, you sage-covered bale, come sit next to me and waft…. :::sniiiiifff::::

Seplasia — Salty flowers, fresh and green; see my wallet scream? 

Jasmin — Indolic and plastic with rubber feet standing in Blvgari Black and SMN Nostalgia, but without their grace. Age makes her beautiful, but not unique

Blu — Blue tuberose, say it ain’t so!  Not smell so good.  (Bertha warming up on stage)… “meh, meh, meh, meh meeehhhhhh”

Prima T — Wow, pretty! And Deep! Probably not pretty enough to get that deep into my wallet

Iranzol – Twisted Barbie porn filmed in a field of Jasmine.  I think I kinda like it, but shhhhh, don’t tell anyone.

Maybe it’s me, but so many oils smell like plastic. Is that true for anyone else?  Perhaps you shouldn’t take my word for all of these.  Sballo and Seplasia, maybe Prima T might be worth having.  Don’t forget my question up above!

Today we’re on a plane, I hope – first to JFK and then on Royal Thai Air to Bangkok. So I won’t be responding. I’ve put my big girl pants on and here we go.

In Bangkok, I hope to:

Take a long-tail boat tour of the Chao Phraya River and the khlongs (side-river-streets);

Visit Siam Square and the Central World Plaza for shopping (Central is 5.9 million square feet vs. Mall of America’s 4.2 million), or maybe the Emporium, which looks the most upscale (perfume!);

See the most revered Buddha, the Emerald Buddha, in the Grand Palace;

Get together with Posse commenter Noy, who lives in Bangkok, to eat some durian and, if I don’t embarrass myself, some farty veggies and maybe even the extra farty veggies (I have noooo idea);

Not die in the heat;

Not lose any children (I’m planning to label them with a return address);

Not freak out in the crowds. Small duh moment looking online: wow, there are eight million people in Bangkok! Have I mentioned how crowds freak me out? How we leave our local mall by noon-ish before the hordes descend? I’m the gal who ducked out of the Vatican tour early, when we got to the Leonardo da Vinci room or whatever it was, when everyone was staring up ooohing and aahing and all I could do was breathe and think, get. Me. Out. Of. Here. So. I’ll have to be the adult. Wish me luck.

Today I’m blogging about L’Artisan L’Eau de Jatamansi. But I need to back up a few months and say how bitterly disappointed I was about their Dzongkha. It was supposed to be perfect for me; it was everything I wanted in a fragrance. I wanted to be the mysterious woman wearing Dzongkha; I wanted it to cleave to me; I lusted obscenely and insanely after the idea that I, whitebread girl extraordinaire, would be worthy of the magic of Bhutan. I wanted friends to ask me what that extraordinary fragrance was that I was wearing, so I could say, with a knowing smile, Dzongkha. Instead all I got was a muddy, spiced-orange mess. I took it as some personal failure on my part.

So my hopes were pretty low for Jatamansi, the Sanskrit name for Himalayan spikenard, with additional notes of grapefruit, cardamom, clary sage, bergamot, tea, Turkish rose, ylang ylang, patchouli, gaïac, sandalwood, papyrus and incense. Cribbing from LuckyScent: ”The essential oil (extracted from the rhizome by steam distillation) has been used for centuries in Indian Ayurvedic medicine. It is known for its uplifting effects, and for harmonising the emotions and favouring inner peace.”

Jatamansi starts off with a burst of grapefruit that comes and goes within minutes; following close behind are the herbaceous notes (I love clary sage, even though it’s obnoxious in my garden and reseeds vigorously), and at that point it’s a ringer for the sharp, almost medicinal smell you get when you walk into an Aveda store. The florals then appear, adding the merest hint of sweetness, and the incense kicks in, along with a perfect measure of woody spiciness, courtesy of the cardamom and gaiac. The drydown features a fair amount of sandalwood and manages to be strongly woody but not obnoxious in the heat. It’s refreshing but not insipid. It’s more dry in the style of, say, Terre d’Hermes, although it doesn’t smell like TdH at all.

I find it enchanting. It’s clearly a summer fragrance; it is easy to wear but not dull. I enjoy it both on its own merits and because it doesn’t remind me of anything else I own. It retains a herbal-medicinal quality that is refreshing and appealing and interesting, not some sort of Herbal-Essence generic greenness.

I’ve read complaints about its brief lasting power. It’s designed to be a refreshing spray, not a tenacious one, and whether that concept appeals is up to you. I will note that lasting power wasn’t an issue on me or the one person (a male friend) I tried it on; I got the better part of a day out of it, although it’s not wafting any huge sillage, which was fine with me, particularly in our hot, humid climate. On the other hand, most scents are famously tenacious on my skin. My one complaint (maybe yours, too) is that it comes in a whopping 250ml bottle for $145, which would, according to my calculations, last me several lifetimes. I’m sure the idea is that I can apply repeatedly and ayurvedically with abandon, but even so, 100ml would be more than enough. Enthusiasm for Jatamansi among the perfume nuts seems to be pretty muted. Maybe that’s a reaction to the bottle size, or maybe (like Serge Lutens’ Chypre Rouge) I’m part of a really small fan club. And that’s okay, too.

image: 100-foot-long reclining Buddha, Wat Pho, Bangkok; nighttime Bangkok, indodaman.com

To catch up on the adventures of Nawt so far, if you’re new to the story, you can go here.  This is the continuing adventures of Nawt Agin, with a new installment most Fridays, rookie perfumer for Irrational Fruity Florals, who has been contracted, against his will, better judgment and perfuming principles, to make the celebrity scent for Voracia Tatas, who is famous for absolutely nothing.

When we last left Nawt, he had tracked down Jean Claude Ellena, Perfumer Par Excellence, bumped into Voracia Tatas, the woman he is making the celebuscent for, who turns out to know JCE since her early years, speaks 16 languages, and is not a dim bulb as we all had thought.  JCE turns out to speak English, and he promises to meet them both for dinner.  So we are left with Nawt and Voracia sitting down for a cup of coffee as Voracia tells the truth about who she is…

Nawt: I think I deserve some explanation, please, Voracia.  You really had me going with that dumb, vapid act.

Voracia:  Oh, pish-tosh, we’ll get to that. Listen, let me grab a cup of coffee for us both, and then I’ll explain.  BTW, the name isn’t Voracia, it’s Ann.

Nawt:  Ann?  Just plain Ann? No last name?

Voracia:  *giggles*  Oh, sorry, no need for that anymore.  Inegma. Ann Inegma, though my nickname has been Voracia for quite some time.  

Nawt:  Of course it is.  By all means, go, get the coffee, I’ll wait here. *Nawt drums his fingers on the table as he watches the spectacularly shaped Ms. Inegma make her way to the counter, order and head back to the table*

Voracia: Well, where were we?  Oh, yes, who am I? You do have some time, this could take a while?  I really feel bad that I played pretend with you, but it was necessary.  I need to go back quite a number of years.  My father and Jean Claude knew each other in Europe, which is where I spent quite a lot of time as a girl, until my parents were tragically killed in a Dodo bird accident when I was 8. 

Nawt:  A what?

Voracia: Dodo bird accident. 

Nawt: They’re extinct.

Voracia:  Well, they are now, but just hush, I’ll tell you the story. We were traveling in Mauritius on an expedition to find what, by one report, was a Dodo bird. The Dodo, as you say, has been extinct for 300 years, so this was great news, if true.  As we were traveling by night in the area the Dodo bird had reportedly been last seen in, a large object hit our windshield – the car ran off the road, hit a tree, and both of my parents were killed instantly.  I was in the back seat of the car asleep with Tantalus, my rag doll, and survived. *Voracia reaches in her purse and pulls out a slightly stuffed, reeking rag*  See, Tantalus? Meet Mr. Nawt.  I always keep him with me.  I know he’s worn and smelly, but I can’t bear to be parted with him.  Okay, Tanty, time to go back to bed.  *she places him gently back in her purse and stares lovingly at it for a while*

Nawt:  Voracia? Voracia!

Voracia: *Voracia looks back up and snaps her teeth, then shakes her head*

Nawt: *draws back quickly* I’m really sorry about your parents, but I’m also afraid… to ask… what hit the windshield?

Voracia:  The Dodo bird, of course. Now they really are extinct.

Nawt:  Of course. Please, continue on.

Voracia:  Well, the accident, of course, woke me up, and I must have gone into shock for days, as I wandered the woods with Tantalus.  This was a very remote area of the world, and I only survived because I was adopted by a pack of wolves.

Nawt:  Wait, wait, wait.  Wolves?  Like the big, gray, furry, wild animals? Those wolves?

Voracia: Yes!  They’re quite intelligent and put big store on the family.  Except for Hector, who I am still convinced was a lycanthrope and not an actual wolf, he just had a humanish look about the mouth.  After two years, a group of hunters discovered our pack, killed several of my family in some misguided rescue attempt and ripped me away from the bosom of my new family,  though I can’t say I was sorry to see that Hector was among the slain. I was quite distraught, as you might imagine, and it took me some time to assimilate back into just speaking instead of growling, barking, walking on all fours and eating small, furry, darting animals.  (drawing from Klaudia Marr Gallery)

My parents were very much do-gooders with no living family except me, and there was no one with the time and ability to deal with a little wolf girl who didn’t speak and was prone to biting with no warning.  My parents’ friends prevailed upon the Sisters of Unending Chatter, who had educated me before the accident, to take me in as a boarder.  It’s a little known Order who, instead of taking a vow of silence, takes a Vow of Chatter, talking 24 hours a day in 6-hour shifts. It is there that I slowly returned to being human… going from just snapping in annoyance at the ceaseless noise to howling, which turned into a more human screaming, then talking, and then taking my turn chattering.

You would have liked them, I think… the wolves. Keen sense of smell. Though they tended to like things that smelled more of rotting flesh.  Jean Claude spent a lot of time with me through those years, using smell to help bring me back into the more human realm. It was during that time that he created my perfume, “Untamed Beauty,” and now you probably understand the source of the name and my nickname, Voracia.  Great scent, I do need to bring you a sample.  Animalic base, almost wolfish, little leather and fur, a slight hint of rot and skank — well, maybe not so slight – from the jasmine and gardenia, enveloped by raw woods and crushed leaves, with a perky top that lures you into thinking it’s just another pretty scent until your nose keeps bumping into what’s under the leaves… something dead and a little mangled. Doubtful it would have broad appeal.

Once I came of age, there was no money for college, it was up to me to make my way in the world. There is very little call for a young woman who looks like me, speaks 16 languages, and was raised by wolves and nuns. 

Nawt: Pity. 

Voracia:  Yes, it sure is.  I moved to California, hoping to escape some of the painful memories Europe held for me. Unfortunately, I am not a particularly talented person in any one area, so I wound up with a couple of bit parts in bad movies, which were panned - my performance and the movie - universally, and I slowly slipped into the Hollywood party circuit, mostly because they remind me a lot of the Chattering Sisters and the Wolves — felt like home, you know? – but without the morality, compassion, intelligence, and charity.  In Hollywood, it’s easier and better to play dumb than to let people know I was smart, so I slowly cultivated this exterior. It cut down on the questions of why I sometimes growled or pounced on small, furry animals or chattered nonstop for hours. 

It did occurr to me at some point that I could be a “good hot bad girl” too, but Santa Badgerlina already has that reality role locked up. How in the world did she get sainted? This woman is tattooed over most of her body with badgers, plays with scythes and fangs, used to wear her ex-husband’s kidney around her waist, offhandedly remarkr to “Vanity Fair” that she’s into bestiality, and somehow she’s now regarded as all that is good, moral and wonderful in the world?!  Sorry, it’s my early training, I really never know when to shut up once I get going — well, I do know, but I have to remember I’m not on the Talk Clock ® anymore.

Anyway…  I had to find a way to make a living, and so far all I’ve managed to do is play dumb and get paid to show up at parties.   My parents would be horrified if they could see me now… my life is truly an agonizing scream of superficiality.  I’ve gotten the act down so well, I’m actually starting to become Voracia on too many days. 

So… that’s all.

There is silence for seconds and then minutes as Nawt just stares, and then he bursts out laughing

 To be continued…

We’re on the countdown to Bangkok, and today’s my day to post, and I’m thinking you’re looking for something more edifying than “I’m still wearing Courtesan pretty much every day and loving it!” Am I right?

Okay, okay. I know what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m supposed to be blogging on something new, something different, something plucked from the tsunami. The release of new fragrances is seemingly endless; pretty soon we’ll be blogging 24/7 just to keep up with the flow. But we’ll never keep up, will we? With Tom Ford, Dior, Chanel and your uncle Bob releasing scents in groups now, it’s only a matter of time before we’re all buried in bottles of perfume. I can think of worse ways to go.

So, as I mentioned recently I wasn’t hot with desire when I saw the new Eclat de Jasmin (the sixth scent in the Armani Prive line) sitting on the counter at Saks. I walked by without a second glance. After all, I have Donna Karan’s Jasmine, Montale Jasmin Full and The Different Company’s Jasmin de Nuit, and, frankly, what more do I need? As far as I’m concerned, Armani’s unlikely to come close to the pinnacle he achieved with Bois d’Encens, although I like the other Prives to varying degrees, and I like Cuir Amethyste more than most folks. And Armani’s amping up the rate of releases to a frenetic level: nine fragrances in 2006 and 2007 alone, and we’ve still got half a year to go. You can’t help but feel the emphasis is not on quality.

But back I went to see what I’d missed. The notes according to the SA are: bergamot, citrus, jasmine, osmanthus, rose, patchouli, amber, vetiver. (Basenotes also lists plum).

Can I just mention that, for no good reason at all, I wanted to hate this? I’m bored with Giorgio and his nine fragrances and his Red Attitude Remix or whatever. Also on the two days I tried this it was in the upper 90s, and with jasmine that’s either great or instant migraine, depending.

Eclat does open with the bergamot/citrus twist, just a bit and short-lived, giving it a green freshness that I liked better than I thought I would. Eclat is quite strong, and it is mostly jasmine, whatever else those notes say, and if you’re going to look on it favorably you should probably keep this in mind. For the first ten minutes it is a gentler, sweeter jasmine-floral (probably the osmanthus/rose), then moves rapidly into a riper, richer, fairly indolic jasmine. The addition of patchouli and vetiver in the drydown give the jasmine a beautiful, unexpected twist – pushing jasmine’s natural dirtiness in a more masculine direction while muting its slightly-rotten-banana-smell. My sister-in-law, riding in the car with me, said it reminded her of when she lived next to horse stables in California and had jasmine blooming on a trellis outside her window (she teaches dressage, and she meant that essentially as a compliment.)

Do you need another jasmine, particularly at $185? Let’s compare it to the three I named above. Eclat is less green, more indolic and much more complex than Donna Karan’s Jasmine essence. It is creamier and less fruity than TDC’s Jasmin (my skin really amplifies TDC’s amber and jammy aspect). It starts off running neck and neck with Montale Jasmin Full in the skank department, with Jasmin Full being initially more in-your-face, and also a “truer” jasmine. But when the Eclat picks up steam and blooms on my skin it makes Jasmin Full seem sugary by comparison. The vetiver makes Eclat dirty the way DelRae Amoureuse is dirty, only Eclat is more sly about it.

After some consideration, I am shocked to report that Eclat de Jasmin may have nudged my beloved Montale out of first place in my heart. Eclat’s lasting power is extraordinary. Jasmin Full typically lasts the better part of a day on me, but Eclat was still going strong a full 24 hours later. Since Eclat’s drydown is the best part, I couldn’t have been more pleased. While it is predominantly jasmine, and thus a “feminine” fragrance, given its masculine elements, I think it would smell amazingly sexy on any man who thought he could get away with it. (Looking at you, Fracas-wearing dudes.) For women who like jasmine, Eclat’s unusual drydown should place it on your to-sample list.

Wearing Eclat de Jasmin, DK Jasmine, Jasmine Full and TDC Jasmine simultaneously is not for the faint of heart. But it was still fun.

By the way, the SA at Saks told me that, starting with this scent and going forward, Armani is making those gorgeous bottles refillable for the entire line. The regular bottle is $185 (Eclat has a pale pink stone, the white stone having been wasted on snoozefest Pierre de Lune), while the refills are $135.

Today we’re sniffing two wildly disparate but reputedly dirty scents: Pan, a unisex fragrance from Anya’s Garden natural perfumery, and the reissued Guerlain Voilette de Madame.

First up: Pan, described on Anya’s website as “created in homage to the Pan of Tom Robbins’ novel Jitterbug Perfume. Notes are white lotus, cedar, labdanum/ambreine, lavender, hay, patchouli, and tinctured hair of a rutting billy goat.”

Lee: I thought I’d got this muddled up with Ombre Fauve or Patchouli Empire when I first sniffed it, cos on me, it’s headshop deluxe in its initial blasts. Yeah duude. Pass the chillum. Musical pipes weren’t the only thing Pan was putting in his mouth, maaan (don’t look up when you read this - the words and pic don’t co-exist happily… Gulp indeed). Then it goes a little nutty / savoury or something. Now, shoot me if you need to, but I always get something similar from natural perfumes - at least the ones I’ve tried - that in my gauche way I’ll call an aromatherapeutic edge. I don’t want to insult Anya (who is, from all I’ve read, a truly lovely woman), but it turns up here too. Whether it’s there or just manifesting my apparent prejudices, I dunno. Anyway, it stays a little too much in patchland for me but I like the burnt umber quality it seems to develop 30 minutes in. I don’t get any of the willyness Patty describes below, the frisky frolicker (Matt said: sawdust).

Patty: I’ve found the rutting billy goat hair! Yowsah! Hay and patch dominate the open on this. When I was a kid, we had to go and get bales in from the field, and my silly parents would send us out unsupervised to do that. I didn’t work fast enough for my older brother, so he would be up in the back of the pickup and would start bouncing hay bales off my head. This scent is me being buried in hay, earth and fury. It’s no shrinking Pan, more like an engorged Pan… in heat.

March: I hear Anya is a lovely, lovely person, and I am loath to criticize something with a lovely person attached to it. This is probably the hardest part of blogging for me. Anyway, this sample doesn’t go through a ton of development on me. It’s nice. I get mostly patchouli and a spicy note (which I love) and lavender (which I love less.) I’m not getting anything dirty out of it. It doesn’t really bloom on me. Honestly, it’s a pretty smell, but it doesn’t seem that qualitatively different than, say, layering a couple of essential oils at the co-op, and it causes me pain in my heart to write that. Maybe I’m too used to the bombast of aromachemistry to appreciate natural perfumery.

Bryan: I was pleasantly surprised that this didn’t get all aromatherapyish on me. I am totally stealing that word from Lee, with whom I agree that naturals tend to lean that way…think millefiori (sic) scents. I love this actually. The hay and patch are subdued somewhat by the lavender. Although it is a blast of masculinity in the beginning, it dries to a more unisex/ambiguous earthy delight. By the way, I am using masculine and unisex in a very apolgetic manner here. I hate those terms, but they do come in handy in a conventional sense sometimes. This is elegantly done and by the way, look ma, no tuberose.

Next, here are our impressions of Guerlain Voilette de Madame (madame’s veil), which many of us spent weeks anticipating incorrectly as Violette de Madame (madame’s violet) prior to its re-release as a limited edition. Notes are iris, ylang-ylang, narcissus, violet and sandalwood.

March: We’ve been jokingly referring to this in our emails as madame’s panties, because someone (Legerdenez?) months ago talked about how ripe it was. I had this one vial from Guerlain, which I thought was Voilette, but I wasn’t sure, because it was unlabeled and the juice was soooo tenuous. I’ve now smelled a fresh samp courtesy of Patty and the Frip, and … am I anosmic? I don’t get it. It’s got a little musty perfume smell, like Vol de Nuit if you found an empty flacon and sniffed the stopper after 60 years. I’m smelling mainly the sweetness of the violet and the musty hay-leather of the narcissus, but unlike, say, L’Artisan’s stunningly forceful Narcisse, or Caron’s sublimely hay-skank Narcisse Noir (one of my favorites from a line I esteem rather than covet), the whole thing is very, very faint. Dirty bits? Nah.

Bryan: I fell hard for this dark veil. We of the obsessive perfumers guild (yeah, I’m looking at every single one of you too) every so often forget we have applied until we get a whif of some gorgeous breeze. Suddenly it occurs to us, “OMG That’s Me!…I rock!” Ok, I threw in the I rock for fun, but really that happened to me with voilette. I confess I usually can not stand violet. I rather loathe it. Patty, please don’t kick my ass. I love it here. And yes, this is violets in a below the waist kind of thing…I mean thang. I am so tracking a bottle of this down….or four.

Patty: March, are you out of your mind? I get all dirty bits right out of the chute, and it is a very feminine dirty bits, to be sure, violet dusted genteel bits, not like rutting Pan above. But I don’t smell anything musty other than the normal mustiness associated with hay or narcissus. It’s definitely not a forceful perfume, but it, along with Djedi and Jasmiralda, are my favorites from the anciennes they have redone. Where the L’Artisan’s narcissus is much more earthy, this one is more refined and easier to wear, but I get a lot of violet and iris in the drydown and very little narcissus, just enough to give it some depth. I’m totally smitten by this one, and when I originally read Legerdenez’ description, I expected to hate it.

Lee: You know, I think this is lovely. It’s a supremely elegant floral with a dusting of dirt, like a nineteenth century skirt worn by a early 40something lady (auburn hair, slight dishabille quality to her dress and demeanour, as if she’s rushed from somewhere and her bosom is heaving) visiting Sherlock Holmes. He’d tell from the vague mud splatters and crinkles where she’d travelled from and how. There’d be a frisson of unspoken desire cutting through the smoke filled room, never to be consummated. She’s carrying a spring bouquet, for some reason, but the daffodils are already turning, becoming lifeless in her never still hands. (Matt said: I can hardly smell it).

image: www.didaskalia.net

Some things are just made to be attractive and repelling — riding that  love-hate see-saw until one side or the other dumps you off, and Guerlain’s new Iris Ganache is at the top of my list of that kind of oddity.  Notes of bergamot, iris butter, white chocolate, floral notes, cinnamon, patchouli, white musks, cedarwood and vanilla.  Huh.

I love iris. I’m not a fan of the gourmands normally. Pairing iris with a bunch of delicious cupcake ingredients seemed to be the kiss of death, but the iris totally saves this.  As it dries down, you start to get more of the pastry notes for a while, then the iris seems to rein it back in, and it keeps doing this little pastry/dirt dance for quite a while until the musk and vanilla steps up, puts an uneasy truce in place, but one that makes this thing pretty addictive.  Do I love it?  I don’t know. Do I hate it?  Absolutely…. not…. yet. Do I find it interesting? Yes.  It’s doing a weird balancing act that somehow seems to work and keeps my interest.  Weird little lovable ganache-covered iris debbill.

Cartier Declaration — Dusan, you’re going to kill me, but…. gag!  This thing went to pure sweat on me, and it’s taken about four hours before I see what you love about it. I’m assuming it doesn’t do that for you?  Lord, that just wasn’t pretty for a while.  Notes of orange, cedar, birchwood, and oakmoss, but I’m only attesting that there was a very big, powerful cedar b.o’ish notes for far, far toooooo long. 

CB’s new Wild Hunt has notes of torn leaves, crushed twigs, flowing sap, fallen branches, old leaves, green moss, fir, pine and tiny mushrooms.  It is meant to smell like the ancient forest in the heat of the summer afternoon. Check… right on target.  This is every bit of what it should be, it is dark foresty perfection.  Mirkwood Forest, but with the sun coming in a little between the branches and some magic happening just underneath that carpeted forest floor you can’t see.  This is a quiet, beautiful happy place, and in the drydown, it has a very soft sweetness to it from the sap, which leaves almost the exact same scent that is left on your hands after you have been plunging through the forest, a very slightly sweet green.

Guerlain’s Mayotte, the do-over for Mahora, is a stunner.  One of a short list of Guerlains that work for me all the time, every day. Notes of frangipani, neroli, tuberose, ylang ylang, jasmine, sandalwood, vetiver and vanilla. It starts off fresh and bright and beautiful, like a happy child greeting the dawn, and the drydown just gets happier and warmed by the basenotes, and the vetiver lending an earthy touch so it is never too sweet, but  it retains that same joyful exuberance that it has in the beginning. I like that in a perfume. This thing is just stunning.  If someone were new to Guerlain, I would tell them to try this and Apres L’Ondee first, very approachable and just gorgeous, and not a drop of powder or fussiness in it anywhere!

Okay, it’s official. I have tried every version of Guerlain Shalimar that I know of, having finally attempted the parfum today, and it is just fantasically awful on me in all iterations.  Now I know!

So which perfume do you keep trying to wear over and over with no success? And which perfume has struck you as the oddest one you’ve smelled so far this year?

If I could figure out how to make my digital camera talk to WordPress, I’d be treating you to my “organizational guide” of my perfumes, particularly the samples. I have large swatches of the guide (mentally) written, and I am telling you, if I ever figure out how to do it, you will be rolling in the aisles. Instead, today’s post was triggered by my recent sad discovery:  I’ll dig out a sample vial or atomizer and and discover that it’s … all gone. It’s evaporated, and there’s nothing left except the faint lingering smell and some memories.

My samples are organized alphabetically. The problem is my non-alphabetized samples, which at this point are all over the house. I have various “systems,” revolving around the samples I’m not done playing with yet, or the ones I haven’t gotten to, or the ones I’ve managed to group together by subspecies (the Patou Ma Collection samples, the vintage Lanvin), and – oddly—the fact that I like to keep sets of samples together when they’re sent by the same perfumista, so I can email him/her with feedback. Here’s a peek at my candy sample life, courtesy of a set sent by hausvonstone (unless it’s the set from dinazad?), so you will have a better understanding of why I am crazy.

Molinard Habanita – I hate these narrow-neck vials. I routinely accidentally snap them off at the narrow point. What is wrong with me? Habanita is (Robin, are you reading this?) the consummate “Old Lady” fragrance, to use a phrase that drives her (and me) up the wall. Old Lady Fragrances being, in general, something with character, interest, leather, and (frequently) skank. Doesn’t say, but I’m guessing the EDP. There’s an interesting note I hadn’t noticed before (this must be an EDP) that’s almost foody – a burnt-toast smell – and I mean that as a compliment. Mildly sweet florals, oakmoss, amber, dirty bits (leather, vetiver, sandalwood), with something sweet in the base.

S-Perfume Lust - What a difference a year makes. I believe I described this as “possibly the nastiest smell I have ever deliberately applied to my person” the last time I blogged on it, which amused the perfumer Nobi so much he started sending me samples. He might even have had my quote on his website. I love that guy. Well, I have applied way worse things than this. This I would actually wear without shame, in public (although probably not in summer.) Mental note: try this in extreme heat to see what happens. I’m guessing leather, metal, sweat, rubber, patchouli, vetiver. It smells great with Habanita.

Guerlain L’Instant Pour Homme Extreme - Wow. We are hitting the jackpot today. She sent this because she knows how much I love L’Instant PH, that intoxicating brew of citrus, patchouli, tea and musk. Unlike its shrill, awkward sister L’Instant for women, Homme is smooth – like a magnolia petal, like your hand rubbing oil across dark, warm skin. Extreme ramps up the vague chocolate/patch note in the drydown to a non-edible semi-gourmand. Having a moment here. I’m not sure it’s better than the original, though. Maybe I need both?

CDG Tea. Cripes. Did you mix this label up? This doesn’t smell like tea, unless it’s compost tea. Oh, wait - no – it’s lapsang. Smoke, smoke, smoke and tea. Sticking your nose in the tea box, maybe even with a tiny, nonscary hint of camphor? Cool.

Speziali Fiorentini Te Nero (Black Tea). Empty. Evaporated. A faint, very pretty floral-tea smell. Waaah. I’m going to cry, this smells like a potential winner, and there’s no such thing as too much tea in summer.

Lorenzo Villoresi Incensi – I never get incense from this, and I’m so gratified to read the notes at the Perfume Shoppe – sour apple, orange blossoms, myrrh, poppy, resinous woods. Those notes make total sense; I’ve always gotten sort of a sweet mess on my skin, and there it is – a spiced, baked-apple smell, a little myrrh and a resinous incense note rather than smoke, along with a vanilla-like base. I don’t hate it, it’s actually kind of pretty once you stop waiting for the cathedral-smoke to waft, and I can even see some people finding this very comforting, but I am not one of them.

Kenzo Jungle Elephant — Mandarin, Cardamom,Caraway, Clove, Heliotrope, Ylang-Ylang, Mango Juice, Licorice, Vanilla, Patchouli, and Casmerin, according to some random perfume website. I’d totally believe that list, because this thing is weird. Definitely the heliotrope (hah, I’ve got, like, 20% of you running away screaming right there, don’t I?) doing the cherry-syrup iteration, and the sweet-sour anise note (up to 40%!). This is like … a fragrance experiment? It’s repulsive and compelling at the same time. The mandarin is surprisingly strong throughout, and the “mango juice” gives it an overripe, gamey fug. Really, mango and heliotrope in unison should probably be illegal. Anyway, it’s hard to believe this freak-show came from the Sephora-shelf folks at Kenzo, most of which is (however else you might feel about it) fairly tame.

(One hour later) This – this is why I looooove this non-job. This is why I sniff! Because after 15 or 20 minutes I got bored with Kenzo Jungle Elephant’s shenanigans – all its attention-getting high-stepping and yodeling and jazz hands – and resolutely ignored it. And then forgot it. And then … I sniffed again. And I had two magical thoughts: a) aaaaaaugghhh, that’s beautiful – all cardamom/clove against some not-quite-of-this-earth floral backdrop, can ylang smell that rich?; and b) it’s Kenzo!!!! There it is, the Kenzo vibe!!! There’s a definite note that reminds me of the woody pitch in Flower Oriental, and another part of the florals that reminds me of the Flower By Kenzo in the parfum strength. It’s like a Kenzo Flower LE: On Acid. Although, please, don’t buy this unsniffed. It’s the sort of absurd-chic thing Jacqueline de Ribes might have worn with the dress in that photo up there, which I am pretty sure I first saw in 1983 (which actually predates the fragrance by more than a decade), the year she was voted The Most Stylish Woman In The World by Town & Country magazine. I must have stared at that photo for an hour that day; for awhile it was on my bedroom wall. How smokin’ hot is she? In the mirror, sure, I look like Betty Rubble, but in my soul, I’ve always tried to cultivate a little Jacqueline.

Vicomtesse Jacqueline de Ribes, Victor Skrebneski, pdngallery.com

Okay, Nawt is taking a break today because I need to catch up on reviews of some new stuff I’ve gotten.  Still feel bad about that very brief Kelly Caleche review, but that’s all I got!

CB I Hate Perfume Greenbriar 1968 – One of the new ones from CB, this one is a marvel.  Sawdust, fresh cut hay (drool… haaaaayyy!!!), pipe tobacco, smoke, old leather work gloves and dirt. This is based on memories of CB’s grandfather, and it is my absolute favorite of the new five.  It has a slightly green sappy smell on the open. Must be the pipe tobacco that gives it a slightly sweet smell. But that doesn’t last as a dominant thing forever, it starts to leather up - a lot - in the drydown, the pipe tobacco gets less sweet, the dirt mixes in, goes dominant for a while, then takes a back seat, and then it seems to settle into a lot of leather and hay, sharp and pungent and perfect. This is so enchanting in all of its changes, and there are many.  Fans of CB’s should go wild over this one. If you’re not a fan of CB, what in the hell is wrong with you?!?!

CB I Hate Perfume I Am a Dandelion — Christopher says he worked a long time to get this one exactly right.  He did have a dandelion accord, but didn’t feel it was ever quite right, and then he ran across the milky note he needed for this new dandelion.  I never smelled the first dandelion accord, but this one has the dirt and some green stems, and as it dries down, that slightly milky note that he says had been missing shows up and makes it the exact perfect match for laying in your yard on a summer day, surrounded by dirt and green, picking that dandelion and holding it to your nose and falling asleep smelling that milky beautiful smell. It’s magic. Wearing this one, I feel like I am 8 again with no worries in the world, and that’s a great thing.

CB I Hate Perfume Eternal Return — This is the ocean archtype.  I’m not very aquatic perfume friendly, so I was leary about this one, but Mr. Genius made ocean work for me or at least I don’t hate it.  There’s the salty ocean air and some green notes on the open, and they are just blooming gorgeous, but then my nose sorta wigs out and I just can’t smell right, it becomes very light, this is likely some mis-nosmia I have to the next notes. Ever have that happen to you? You just can’t get a bead on what you’re smelling? Anyway, it’s not an aquatic mess in the least, and I wish I could give you more info, but my nose just blew up on this one. I think I need to spritz it to get a better feel for it so it will get on my clothes, etc. Of the three new ones, it’s the one I like the least, but only because of the above-described misnosmia.

There are two more new ones. One is a dark summer forest one, and I can’t remember what the other one is, but I should have them to test by next week, yeah!!

Memoire Liquide — This is a new bespoke line that showed up Fred Segal’s in Santa Monica first and now is at from Bendel’s in NYC as well, and there’s a ton of them, and they let you make up your own, as well (bespoke, duh!).  We decided to start picking up a few since it’s like $45 for a little 1/2 ounch bottle of perfume.  2 ounces of the EDP is like 60-65, I think?  Anyway, they’re quite good, I was surprised and not expecting them to be more than just little throw-aways.  I’ll just hit a couple of them here only because there are so many!  Fleur de Tabac is a really rich, great tobacco scent, with a rich undertone in it. It is supposed to be the flowering tobacco, so it has a little spicy edge to it that gives it a new slant on tobacco.  Vetiver is Bergamot, green vetiver, cedar and… da da daaaaa… hay. Hello!  It has a nice bright bergamot open and then it’s all about the vetiver and hay. I don’t get a lot of cedar in this at all.  It could be my eternal love for hay and vetiver that makes this my favorite, but it’s pretty great.  Liaison Secrete is gardenia and green leaves. Hoping for an Isabey Gardenia or at least one tempered with enough green leaves to hold off the bleu cheese… but no. Blucheez-orama. Those of you that are fans of Velvet Gardenia from Tom Ford and Jardenia from JAR, but hate the price tag on both, you might like this one. It’s not quite as stinky as the expensive ones or the stink doesn’t las as long, which may mean it doesn’t have whatever in there that y’all are loving, and the drydown seems a little plasticky to me, but given my general problems with most gardenia perfumes, I have no idea if that would be true for anyone else. 

The price point is decent on the Memoire Liquides, which I think makes it a line worth exploring since there is so much variety — gourmands, fruits, tobaccos, leather, florals. It’s got it all.  Robin at Now Smell This has a post with quite a number of the perfumes available. So while I don’t think most of these are destined to be classics, many of them seem to be well-made, though I haven’t even dented the line, and I think you can find a new favorites in there that will make your nose and your wallet happy.

Let’s see, what else do I have?  Oh, that Micallef Black Sea thing, March could not be more right about how perfect it is.  Notes of pink pepper, clove, cypress, saffron, gaiacwood, muguet, carnation, sandalwood, cedar, incense, ciste, vanilla.   There’s something in there that reminds me of Aqaba, but not in that over-the-top way that Aqaba has, but just in the mix of incense, carnation and clove — it’s like Aqaba that isn’t going out in the too-short skirt, showing too much cleavage and wearing too much and bright of lipstick shouting “look at me!!!”  Oh, damnit, I got it too close to the Opium parfum, which, BTW, is the only version of Opium that I can wear, it hugs the skin so nicely, and I really pretty much love it, even though I don’t want to.   It’s the Opium I was talking about that reminded me of the Aqaba, it was right next to the Black Sea — oops, sorry! Wait, Opium next to the Black Sea, that’s lyrics on my arm.   Back to the Black Sea, which has that enchanting spicy incense going, with just enough wood to make it interesting. This one is a definite keeper.  I *need* it for me, but I’m going to figure out how to get my darling husband to wear it, it would be perfection on him.

PSA — For those of you wanting to try Demeters, but not wanting to get a larger size, Demeter is doing their smaller sizes now, $3 for 11 ml.  After July 1, the minis then will be what they are calling “Humongous Miniatures,” 15 ml or 1/2 ounce for $5. That’s a pretty great deal.

Now for the drawing!  Samples of each of the perfumes listed in today’s post. Just drop a comment if you want to be in the draw. 

We always hope that the drawings help some of you who don’t comment normally to feel more comfortable jumping in.  I just read somewhere again last night where someone felt that blog commenting was a tight group, but I have to tell you all that even though some people regularly comment on blogs, and we’ve gotten to know each other either online or some people in person because they live in the same area, this is one of the most welcoming groups of people I know. So if you ever hesitate to comment, just remember even the regulars had to comment for the first time, and you can be just an occasional commenter or a regular or just comment when there’s drawings.  Any of those are fine!

We had a spate of 90-degree days recently, so I put down my bottle of Courtesan (still loving the Courtesan) and decided on a little experiment. I browsed my fragrances and randomly selected a few I would describe as totally wrong for me this time of year – either because they’re so heavy they’d kill me in the heat, or because something about them I associate very strongly with fall and/or winter (admittedly a subjective judgment.) I suppose this post should really be called “Right Scent, Wrong Time.” But it isn’t. Don’t forget I invited you to pick something “not you” or wrong-season to try out and comment on today. In no particular order, here are the results of my experiment:

Armani Prive Bois d’Encens – a supremely cold incense that I had to learn to love, and I only trot it out on the coldest of winter days, because on me it is a somber, strong fragrance, and I have to be in exactly the right frame of mind. For the first fifteen minutes in the summer heat I thought, this isn’t going to work. Then … I don’t know, it settled down. I got used to it? It was weirdly refreshing – just as strong, but something like carrying my own air-conditioning unit around with me. I would definitely do that again.

Fendi Theorema – one of the scents I wear in the dark teeth of winter when it’s sleeting and I’m depressed. It’s instant sunshine on me; how can you be unhappy with that radiant woody orange lighting everything around you like a solar system? In the summer, though, it’s just too much. Not a scrubber – I gritted my teeth and got through it – but it’s too syrupy and rich and thick and I felt like one of those bugs preserved in amber. No.

Caron Yatagan – in the winter, this is a lusty, dirty, leathery thing on me, and I can handle it. In the summer, it smells like I ran a marathon and then swam in the creek with the dog. And you know what? It worked. Okay, the people in the CVS were backing away politely, and I think I might have been attracting flies, but somehow I didn’t care. Kiss my boots and water my horses, sunburned tourists!

CB I Hate Perfume Burning Leaves (then layered with Gathering Apples) — As you might guess, this is a fall scent for me, and I wear it occasionally in the winter. I think it’s genius – an October lane in New England. In the summer? No. No, no, no. It didn’t smell bad. It was fine – not overwhelming or anything, but it was the fragrance equivalent of going insane – it was just all wrong.

Serge Lutens Fleurs d’Oranger – another fragrance I associate very strongly with fall, if for no other reason than I tend to wear it outdoors to the park in cool weather. Easily one of the biggest fragrances I wear (the sillage on me is immense, and it lasts two days on my skin) and I’ve even come to terms with the cumin. I thought it would be wretched. Instead, it morphed into something right for sultry summer. It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, which only happens when something is really, really working for me. I think I was probably killing people around me with the sillage, and I wouldn’t wear it in the garden (bees) or in an elevator, but I loved it.

CB I Hate Perfume Musk Reinvention – I consider this a winter comfort scent, affirming the fact that perfume folks have a pretty varied definition of “comfort.” I continue to feel there’s something primal and soothing about it; at the same time I totally understand those of you who find it appalling. Anyway. On it went, and I was running errands, feeling very smug about how well things were going, until I remembered: I’d bought the damn thing in New York with Patty last summer during a heat wave. I believe it was 103 degrees the day I purchased it. Thus proving that Skank Has No Season.

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Winter Delice – This is, essentially, Christmas in a bottle. This is Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening. This is resiny, cool, pine-hugging love, with some incense thrown in. I can’t get enough of this thing in December. Well, for first three minutes in the heat it was great – like a refreshing walk through the cool, shady conifers… oh. Wait. Then it was like a beat-down at the hands of an angry mob wielding fir branches and large, heavy sacks full of mulling spices and lead weights. Total scrubber. Honestly, I hope I haven’t ruined this for myself. Trying to erase the memories.

Guerlain Mitsouko EDP or extrait – I stared hard at the bottles. Both of them. Really, really hard, out in my yard, in the sun. I just didn’t open them.

Bal a Versailles extrait – my punishment for wimping on the Mitsouko (which is sort of like choosing the firing squad over the electric chair.) Bal EDP I adore completely, its genius combination of almost candied top notes and dirty bottom issuing a siren call to everyone in smelling distance. The extrait is, to be honest, a little gamey even for me – with all that civet you might as well be carrying the cat around your neck. Anyway, I poured it on and went out to run errands. Wow. Maybe my nose broke from the onslaught, but I’d say it totally worked. Somehow my skin just ate it up in the heavy heat. The skank morphed into a peppered incense with a dusty-old-rug drydown that was quite appealing, and the candied note was much more muted than usual. In fact, after a minute or two it was extremely masculine. I’d do that again in a heartbeat.

Serge Lutens Borneo 1834 – technically, I don’t associate Borneo with winter. I associate it with an eternity in hell. I got a decant eons ago, it leaked in the package, and I was so overcome with horror at the camphorous smell that I jammed it in a Zip-loc bag immediately and … can’t remember. Never could remember. My mind erased all the painful memories. Did I throw it away? Was it lurking in a drawer somewhere, waiting for Hecate to get her grubby mitts on it? Anyway, in the middle of my hot-weather experimentation I was cleaning random junk out of the cabinets in our laundry room, and I got this whiff, sort of a combo of putrefaction and mildew. I recognized the smell immediately: dead mouse. So I dug around, carefully pulling things out, looking for the carcass, but instead I came up with the Borneo! (The Big Cheese walked by the laundry room five hours later, made a face and said, what is that smell?) Anyway, for me Borneo has all the Fear-Factor appeal of chugging a quart of lumpy milk. I never make it past the opening. But maybe this time…I suffer for my art, and dressed in laundry-friendly clothing I went outside, sprayed it on in the afternoon heat and waited. And this time …

it was like sucking on mothballs while being strangled by a patchouli-soaked rag from the barn. Borneo infuriates me. Not only because I hate the fragrance itself, but somehow I feel like I’m failing the cool test — like I’m not “getting” the fragrance, like I’m too dim to really appreciate all Borneo has to offer if only I could pry my teeny mind open. Borneo defeats me every time. I took my rank, furious self to the gym for 45 minutes on the treadmill (take that, shirtless, sweaty male gym-goers!) and was easily the foulest-smelling person in the foul-smelling room, IMHO.

So … did you do any testing of your own?  Elle says she just dabs on microscopic dabs of her winter scents in the summer.  What do you do?  Are your scents seasonal?  Anybody go try White Diamonds?

PS Added to my Bangkok itinerary: this cool/weird-looking Art and Perfume exhibition in Siam Square where we’re staying, featuring pairings of artists and Givaudan perfumers creating fragrances and their flacons. How’s that for timing?

Image: bison in Yellowstone, www.maxwaugh.com

Patty’s post yesterday got me thinking about the correspondence I’ve been running with my closer-than-close friend Jazmin, out in the Bay Area. If you recall (I think I’ve mentioned it before, but then I am the type of person who starts conversations as though my conversees are actually living inside my head), I sent J 40+ frags from a range so she could decide what kinds she liked or even loved the most.

I have to say, as an aside, that one of the first things I learned about J when I met her many years ago was: ‘I think 10% of my pleasure in life comes from the smell of men’s cologne’. Neither of us were particularly refined back then, and since I’d been exploring the realms of niche these past three years, I thought it was time she got to sniff some sensory wonder, even though she was no longer my neighbour.
She’s methodical where I’m slapdash and she certainly isn’t the perfume piggy type like me. I’ve been getting regular updates on likes and dislikes (even posting out a bottle of Un jardin en Mediterranee when I realised it wasn’t ever going to meld with me, and she liked it because it clanged some memory bell in her childhood head). Last week, she finalised her list. This is what she wrote:

Okay, I’ve got my fragrance response at long last. I gave each two rounds, spaced apart by weeks, and here’s a refined sense of moi.

Faves:

Rush (the men’s lumberyard beauty)
Harmattan-Noir
Sequoia
Terre D’hermes
Avignon
And I’m thinking there was one called Cedar, but I forgot to write it down. (And I’ve no idea what she’s on about because, surprise, surprise, no list here)
Zagorsk too.

Second Place, i.e. can definitely see days where I’d want to wear any as an alternative to the above (if there were enough days in the year)
Pomegranate Noir (that’s right March - here’s a fan)
Moroccan Dessert
Encens et Lavande
L’absinthe (no, not the fabled Gaubin Daude, but the l’Artisan)
Orris

Does the above make sense with all the elements and ingredients and categories and higher/deeper knowledge you have about all this stuff? Like does that make me an ENFsomething in the smelling world?

Also, whenever we next see each other (sob*, scheduling bites) can I try the above again to further refine a preference order? Then I’m going to need to buy a few ’cause DAYAM. I ain’t never buying anything at Macy’s ever again. In my whole life. There’s so little time and such great stuff to surround your olefactory bulb with. Why waste even a moment on trash mass marketed shite.

Sniff.

J

See, one of the reasons I love J is she’s fooled into thinking I have higher/deeper knowledge rather than a lot of muddleheaded gobbledegook I can string into reasonable sounding sentences. And she has a precise way with words. Love that Macy’s dig-in-the-ribs. Though J, if you’re reading this, occasionally you’ll stumble on a wonder even when you’re slumming it. Just avoid the slebscents in general. Though March et al might convince us otherwise tomorrow.
Oh, and my reply to J:

You like woody rather than spicy. Transparent rather than thick, unless we’re talking smoky. Sour / savoury rather than sweet. Notes you like are: cedar, incense, vetiver, grapefruit, sap, black tea, mint (if subtle). Personality wise - difficult to say what it means - you’re drawn to modern, clean lines in scents, but I wouldn’t necessarily say that’s true entirely. and to be sure, Avignon has some Gothic flourishes there too. But generally, you’ve picked out warm weather perfume, more suited to California than other stuff (I think incense and pure wood scents like Rush are actually better in heat than cold - refreshing somehow). There’s something very orderly about all of your choices - no muddiness at all. And you’re not overly keen on amber, sandalwood (too creamy?), florals, spices (except where they play around in the background of woods).

You want me to refill your vials, baby?

Did I get it right? Have I missed anything out? I’m better at getting balls rolling than knowing where they stop, so help me out here.

Oh, and I’ve been sniffing all the Miller Harris scents - exclusivo and hoi-polloi. I have a pretty box set of vials to give away to one lucky reader who’d like to be thrown in the draw. They’re good at packaging at Miller Harris. As for me and them - well, there’s pretty, ethereal, delicate at one extreme, and gutsy and full-bodied at the other (the full Pinot Grigio to Noir experience), but I’m not sure any of them are for me. The vials are virtually full, except for Feuilles de Tabac, which I initially had a torrid love affair with before it dissipated. And like wild, irresponsible sex, I thought Piment de Baies was my baby until the main course was over and it turned my stomach.

Perfume Piggy I may be, but I ain’t no slut.
Winner announced in two weeks’ time.

Image courtesy of http://allposters.co.uk

Kelly Caleche — yum!  It’s a really beautiful floral.  There’s leather in there, but I don’t smell it so much as my sister did, dang it! I wish there had been more leather.  The Rose in it reminds me a little of the Rose Ikebana rose.  So quick review — gorgeous, soft floral with very soft leather. Many of you will be wanting more leather, some of you will probably smell more leather than I do and be happy with that.  I think it will sell really well because it wears beautifully, but it’s not breaking any new ground for me. It feels very Jean Claude Ellena, it has his soft, refined touch, which is enough for me.

I often get the question on how to sample, especially from people new to niche perfumes.  This question perplexes me only because how you sample depends on what kind of Perfumista you are. Which leads me to the point of this post:  What Kind of Sniffer Are You?  

For All samplers — when you get a load of samples in, you will be tempted to just dive in, and you can do that to some extent, but use that as a preliminary sorting thing - like the Sorting Hat in the Harry Potter series - open the cap and sniff, then put them into a pile of Love the Top Notes or Don’t Love the Top Notes.  Remember that this pile means absolutely nothing, but by all means, smell those first where you love the top notes.

Sample no more than 2 perfumes a day.  You can go up to 4 a day if you spread them out by a half day.  Doing multiples up and down your arms and on your knees is for later.  Now, take notes, and you will find a couple of things:  One, the perfume very often does not smell like just the top notes, and those notes are quickly gone, replaced by something else… something you may love, hate, or be indifferent to. 

Now, organize your thoughts on this somehow - notebook, spreadsheet, post-it notes, something - jot down the notes of the perfume, what you thought about each one in each stage - top, middle and drydown.   Don’t note just yet on whether it is worth buying because you should test each one 2-3 times. The nose can be fickle on the wrong day, and you don’t want to toss, give away or swap away that sample, only to find out three years later that you swapped away the perfume you love. Sample each one a few days or weeks apart.  If you need to be more organized in knowledge since you’re having trouble figuring out which notes are doing it for you, spring for the Le Labo Olfactionary - it’s expensive, but worth it.

Part of your sampling is dependent on your purpose, and the purpose can change, though people do fall into some main categories:

• Sniffing With a Purpose - you are looking for something specific and don’t won’t to be sidetracked with other pretty things.
• Sniffing Randomly — You like to sniff a wide variety before narrowing in your search
• Sniffing Wildly — You just like to sniff everything. You may or may not bother to buy bottles. For you, the main advernture is in finding and cataloguing all those smells out there so you know them.

Now, while you may not stay in one of those groups all the time, there are some major types of Sniffer:

Gimme My Holy Grail… Now!

There’s a couple of botles of perfume on my dresser, one from 10 years ago that I can’t bear to wear anymore. There’s probably a couple more in the closet packed away from college or high school.  I’ve gotten down to not wearing perfume anymore because everything in the drugstore and/or department stores smells alike, and I don’t want to smell like everyone else.  I’d really like to find my Holy Grail and have done with this hunt - I have zero time to go hunting for perfumes, but I’d like to smell good and unique.  There’s been articles I’ve read recently about niche perfumes, and from what I’m reading, I’m thinking my Holy Grail will be in that genre, but I am not spending wicked much money on this like some of those Perfume Kooks.

You have a very focused sampling viewpoint. You want to get in, find something to love and get out. You may get distracted if you’re not careful, which could be a good thing for you, you Little No Frills, All Business, Type A Perfumista.  Here’s how you want to sample.  Get something from all the major note/type families that you know you don’t hate, even those you aren’t sure about.  Try and get the best or most classic examples of the type.  Sort them carefully in a spreadsheet with the notes in each, comments about what you thought of each of them and what seemed to be lacking. Then you can try and find others of the same type that have that something else you’re looking for or a note that you do like but wasn’t in there but is in another.  Sort them by favorite to least favorite.  There, that will satisify your organizational abilities.

Now go out and sniff something crazeeee niche and expensive where you don’t know the notes.  See? That was fun, wasn’t it, smelling in a void just for the pure pleasure of it.  You may now resume your orderly search for your Holy Grail, but don’t remain so closed minded that if you don’t find it quickly that you quit looking.  You may find out that just as you are not the exact same person every day, one perfume just won’t fit you every day of the year. There’s no need to think you have to be one of the crazees that has 100+ bottles of perfume, but having a wardrobe of 5-10 scents won’t kill ya.

Hey, I’m on a Budget!!

Listen, I’m in college or have six kids to raise or whatever, but there’s only about $50 a year to toss out on a perfume… but I still love them so… and so many of them. How can I satisfy my great love of perfume without breaking the bank?

Swapping.  Spring for one bottle, a really good one that’s in high, high demand (do two years of your budget, if you must,  for a bell jar from a friend going to or in Europe), try and get it something on eBay for less than retail (NOT Chanel or Creed, they are too often fakes), and then start swapping away samples and decants of it for the things you really want to try, then keep the swapped samples to swap for other things you want to try. Don’t be above begging here. It’s worked used to work on me when I was MUA swapping.  This is the harder, more painful, slower road, but many perfumistas can attest that they have been able to sample a lot of wonderful things using this method, it just can take longer.  You probably won’t have to worry about how to go through a bunch of samples at a time, though, since you’ll likely have time to savor the ones you get when you get them!

For Pete’s sake.. it’s Just Perfume

Look, it’s just perfume. I want to smell good, but it’s not solving world peace. Last time I bought perfume, I liked it fine in the store, got home, and wore it twice, it was horrible. I know perfume has to be better than this, doesn’t it? How do I get the most bang for my buck so I can accumulate 5-10 scents to wear that will take me through the next decade, and then I’ll worry about new things then.

JUST PERFUME?!?!?  Okay, deep breaths.  Yes, you’re right, it’s not solving the world’s ills, but it’s making it a nicer, more beautiful place on the way through. Scent is the Sense with Memory, and it remembers everything.   Okay, Miss Neanderthal, your sampling should be geared to trying those things that you’ll love or are fairly certain to love, playing it safe. If you already know types you hate, cross those off, and go after ones that have the best likelihood of making it work for you.  As you find one that’s a keeper, make a note of it. Once you get to your magic number, just stop… or don’t. Oh, unexpected fun?  Now you can either buy the bottles to last you that 5-10 years, if it’s in your budget. If not, it’s a really high-priced scent, just get a decant and wear it for your more special occasions. Decants won’t last as long, but at least if it’s an expensive mistake, a decant won’t be as expensive as a full bottle.

I WANT IT ALL!! (Perfumed Piggy)

Yeah, yeah, responsible sampling, orderly, taking notes. Right. I really want to smell everything and have been slowly going through everything, including my budget and credit cards and home equity line of credit. How do I keep sampling but do it somewhat financially responsibly?

This is a really hard one, truly.  The Advanced Stages of the Perfume Smelling Illness (as our beloved Pitbull Friend commenter put it).  First, take your time with your samples. I know how easy it is to just flit off to the next new things, but there’s a treasure trove in all those samples and decants you have laying around. Take time to truly appreciate them.  Use a combination of approaches to stretch your perfume dollar. Swap the ones you don’t care for or just aren’t you for other things, and you’ve just doubled that sample dollar right there!  Take more time in smelling.  Yes, I know this is similar to the slow down when you eat your dessert advice, but try it anyway. You may find a new love by re-sampling.  You also know you’ve become one of those Perfume Phreaks people whisper about?  I know this because I am one, too.

So remember — sample slowly, sample sober, and stay safe out there.

Which kind of sniffer are you, and should there be more categories?

Remember, oh, awhile back, when I talked about really wanting to get out there and live, do stuff with the whole family before they’re grown and gone?

The entire Ship of Fools, including our four kids, is leaving for Thailand in a couple of weeks; we’ll be back in early August, making it a (roughly) five-week trip. We’re going to spend some time in Bangkok, which I hear is insane, and the air’s dirty, and you might not want to live there, but visiting is supposed to be a rollicking trip.

Then we’re heading for Phuket, where we’ll alternate between lolling on the beach and by the pool (except for me; I’ll be huddled under a giant sunhat wearing my sunproof long-sleeved shirt, and the locals will give me some colorful Thai nickname like “white foreign grub.”) I’m busy packing – not clothes so much (it was in 98 degrees in Bangkok last week, roughly ten degrees cooler in Phuket; who needs clothes?) as basic medicines, etc. We’ve got our Hepatitis A shots, our typhoid pills, and mom’s Valium, which I’ll be needing for the daylong flight. God, am I dreading that flight.

Potential highlights include renting our own sloop (the Big Cheese has all his proper certifications) for a pleasure cruise to the spectacular Phi Phi islands. I’m also probably doing a side trip with the girls to Siem Reap, Cambodia, because I have always wanted to see Angkor Wat, and – well – there we’ll be, and how can I be that close (like a flight from New York) and not go? I have no doubt that the Cheese, having visited most of the neighboring countries, will work a solo adventure in there somewhere.

Yeah, I’m a little nervous. If you can read the invisible writing on my tee shirt from where you’re sitting, it says “Bring ‘em back alive.” I’m aware that statistically I’m more likely to die in my car on the Beltway than I am in Thailand, but still. It’s the kids. We have two four-year-olds and we’re spending a lot of time around water. We’re all boned up on our swimming (the twins can swim, sort of, thanks to weekly lessons) and we’re taking our own, very nice life jackets. I’m just hoping not to find myself in a position to need them to save us.

I’m going to blog. I’m taking my laptop, and if that doesn’t work out there are plenty of internet cafes. I haven’t quite decided on an approach. (Yes. It’s true. Faced with a trip of a lifetime to Thailand, I’ve been thinking about … how that relates to the blog. Draw your own conclusions.) I’ll probably bring some random samples with me, and blog on whatever I find there. Maybe they have local perfumes. Maybe they’ll have endless shops filled with fun, poorly made dupes (“Christian Deor Poisson”), or I could write on all the cool local smells. Seriously, I’m sure some of them will be awful (hello, durian!) but I love the smell of new places, a