We are off to Kansas to play with the prairie dogs and rattlesnakes in the wheatfields while the tornadoes, wicked witches and cowboys gallivant past.

I’ve had the request to pack up a suitcase of perfumes for my sister and Kelly to sniff, and I have. It’s so difficult to know what to take, so I just start throwing things in, hoping they will be fun.

And a question, which if you answer in comments, you’ll get an entry into a drawing for… let’s see… a set of JAR samples, yes! And some other goodies, which will be surprises. I have my sillage monster favorites, like Clive Christian No. 1, 24, Faubourg, Jil Sander No. 4, Poivre, Or et Noir — those perfumes that just leave an oustanding wake of scent as you walk by. What are your favorite sillage monsters? This is an important question because I want to put together a sample pack of sillage monsters from your recommendations. I won’t use all of them, just the most frequently mentioned. Think about it, I’ll leave this post open for a while to take entries

Also, the winner of last week’s grabbag full of samples is…. Camille! Just hit the contact us button over there and shoot me your address, and I’ll stuff this bulging bag of samples into an envelope and send them on their way.

Everyone, have a great and safe Labor Day weekend. Where did the summer go? I’m always happy to see it end now, fall truly is my favorite time of year, right up until Jan 2, and then I want spring back…

This is going to be a brief post, because we’re heading into Labor Day Weekend, and yesterday I got my XXL September Vogue in the mail (squeeeee!!!) and I’ll be busy propping that up in my lap for perusal for the next few days. I read online that it weighs 4 lbs. 5 ozs. without the advertising supplement. Between that and the endless odd-smelling envelopes, my postman probably wishes I would move somewhere else. Anyway, here are some random thoughts:

1) I have some fragrance samples that are a year or two old that appear to have turned. I’m talking specifically about the ones in the plastic atomizers. And I don’t mean the top notes have gone off; I’m not a chemist, but it seems to me like the plastic is literally dissolving, and they smell terrible. A bunch of extra airspace in the atomizer probably isn’t doing the scent any favors either. If you have a plastic atomizer of some rare, much-loved juice you’d like to hang onto so you can take it out and sniff it every now and again, I’d seriously consider moving it into the smallest airtight glass container it can fit into.

2) If I ever win the lottery I’m going to track down Victoire Gobin-Daude and throw money at her until she reopens her shop, brings back her original line and creates some new ones. You can thank me later. My 1ml vials of Nuit au Desert and Sous le Buis are almost gone, and I am pretty torn up about that.

3) If you’ve tried a specific fragrance, particularly one that you really thought would work on you, and it was all wrong, please try again. And by “try again,” I mean: get some from a completely different source and try again. Let’s face it: stuff happens. Bottles go bad sitting on counters under the light and heat. Samples get mixed up and contaminated. Patty and I have both had instances (we shared a nasty vial of Iris Silver Mist once, and thank God she eventually got another one) where it was clear that there’d been some problem with the first go-round. I’m not talking about your nose coming around to something eventually; that happens too, of course. But I’ve done enough re-sampling at this point to feel pretty confident that sometimes you get a bum steer. No fault, no blame. But please don’t write a fragrance off forever based on a sample of one.

4) For those of you suckered into buying Kenzo Jungle Elephant based on my review, and/or other folks who are still trying to figure out how to “ride the Elephant” through the first intensely sweet hour to the mother lode of spicy goodness – I discovered through happy accident that it layers beautifully with the original Comme des Garcons parfum (which I think is actually an EDP? with notes of Cardamom, Coriander, Geranium, Nutmeg, Cinnamon Bark, Clove, Labdanum, Styrax, Cedarwood, Cut Hay, Olibanum, Black Pepper, Sandalwood, Rose, Honey). The CdG spices smother the gooey candied opening of the Elephant. For any of you who haven’t tried that CdG (created in 1994 by Marc Buxton)… well, what the heck are you waiting for?! Look at those notes!!!!!! If they hold any appeal at all, you owe yourself a sniff. I’m really looking forward to wearing it this fall.

Well, that’s all my little pearls of perfume wisdom for the moment. Feel free to share your own pearls in the comments below. Otherwise, have a great Labor Day weekend. Don’t forget your sunscreen! Drink plenty of hydrating, ice-cold alcoholic beverages from a can! See you in September!

image: allposters.uk.net

For today’s group experience we’re reviewing two scents from Montale, a company with a pretty extensive inventory — Basenotes lists 36 fragrances, a lot for a company that’s been in business since 2001. Montale’s fragrances are considered unisex by the company. How did your Posse pals feel about Montale Aoud Roses Petals and the opposite end of the spectrum, Aoud Cuir D’Arabie?

Aoud Roses Petals has notes of rose, geranium, amber, cedarwood, teakwood, oud.

Bryan: I have only come across a couple fragrances that (or is it which?) send me screaming to the sink to scrub skin away from bone. MPG Fleur d’Iris is the first…blech! Aoud Roses Petals is now the second. I have dissed some fragrances in the past, only to return to the blog, head held down in shame, to eat the words I spewed all over the laptop. Ether de Lilas by PG comes to mind…Ahem…This will NOT happen here. I gave it all night….cringing the entire time. From start to miserable finish, it was like a bleach/ammonia/rose nightmare! I enjoy Roses…I love Frederic Malle’s Une Rose. I love the Parfums de Rosine line. Well, most of them. This I just don’t get. I crave Tubereuse Criminelle, so I don’t shy away from the odd blasts of cool notes….This however is completely unforgiveable. Just unforgiveable.

Lee: I thought we were doing Aoud Flowers? Oh well…. (runs off to test this one. Waits four hours. Returns). More than virtually any other scents, these Montale Aouds are entirely different from start to finish. You can’t get an real impression of them in the first ten minutes, and if I did take that impression, I’d hate them. I was a very healthy pre-teen, but a very sickly teen, affected inexplicably by ENT disasters. These aouds are unpleasantly medicinal memory trips for me, enough to make me back away and feel a creeping sense of light-headedness and wan fever. But this scent changes. I don’t do roses very comfortably, but there’s nothing mosquito-pitched about this one - it’s a heady and dark tea rose scent of a very high quality. I can appreciate it, but not want to wear it.

Patty: You guys are wimps! It’s oud, for cry-yi-yi! Anyway… it is a little strong, but I like the contrast of the strong, strong medicine and those delicate little rose petals fighting for their lives in a vat of pitch. I can’t wear many of the ouds for very long, they are fierce and overpowering sometimes, but I still like them for what they are.

March: Lee, yeah, I know — she sent us this one instead. How strong is Aoud Roses Petals? Without opening the package, I could smell a 1ml, unleaking vial sealed in bubblewrap inside a plastic shipping pouch. Just to give you an idea. It’s not the sort of thing you’d want to spill on your upholstery. I applied four drops to my inner arm; two or three healthy sprays of this would likely kill me. It’s pretty much roses, geranium and oud, and you know how much I love rose in fragrance (not much). So I am surprised to report that I kind of like this. The geranium and oud do a great job of cutting the migraine-inducing plastic sweetness I dislike in rose. It’s spicy and deep and a little smoky, moving in the general direction of, say, OJ Ta’if — rose is only part of the story. After half an hour, the rose falls back even further and I’m left with an oud-amber-rose-geranium, in that order. I’d never buy this, but I might wear it again, the way I wear really strong fragrances — I apply a drop or two in the general vicinity of my navel, and enjoy catching hints of it as I go through the day.

Aoud Cuir D’Arabie has notes of tobacco, leather, oud and burnt wood.

Lee: In my early twenties, one of my best friends was friends with a 50something stoner biker. He had a grey whiskery beard, a receding hairline, and a permanently nicotine stained pony tail. He wore shirts with small dope burns all over them - these allowed his wiry chest hair to perform curlicues on the cotton. On his lower half, he always seemed to wear the same leather trousers. If I could imagine inhaling the buttock section of these pantaloons, that would be the first few minutes of Cuir d’Arabie. It really is that powerful. I don’t get oud here, just the entire process of leather manufacture, with all the smells of flesh, decay and render that entails. It’s the most accurate depiction of leather-in-action I’ve ever sniffed. It makes me feel like animal hide, which I guess in one way or another, I am. I just don’t want to be flailed quite yet, thank you very much.

Patty: Lee’s description is pretty spot on for the open, though I never smelled his best friend’s butt-end of his leather pants - not asking to, either. This thing is just rank on the open, but in a very pungent, interesting way. I do get a little oud in there, it’s slightly medicinal behind all that leather. But in a few minutes, it’s Saddle me Up, Cowboy! I adore this… just hand me my hairshirt and start flailing.

Bryan: Thank you Lee for the mental. If I’m ever feeling a bit “randy” at an awkward place, I’ll recall that image and go immediately from flushed to ice cold. I do however agree with the description. (Damn, I wish I could write like that). I don’t really hate this as much as the other Montale. I just wouldn’t ever, ever reach for it. I am knocked over the head with dirty leather…and not dirty in the skank, delicious way. I mean the Pleather wearin’ in the summertime trashy way. I really wanted to enjoy the Montales, but I am like 0 for 6…though that does leave 30 more, right? (Crystal Flowers is a joke and the Tiare is ok, but it’s better elsewhere). Here I just get ripe leather and some smoke (maybe that’s the oud). Missed again Montale…(stolen from Will and Grace…)

March: I thought what Lee was writing was complimentary, even up to and through the buttock/animal hide parts, so I guess I’m a little slow on the uptake. I also thought Cuir D’Arabie was sort of yummy. It comes right up to the skank line for me but doesn’t cross it the way, say, Miller Harris’ L’Air de Rien does. (Actually, Rien doesn’t cross the line so much as stomp it into the dust with its hobnail boots and sprint away.) Then the buttcrack accord backs off a bit and it’s a rich, deep, dirty (as in dirt) leather, like Tauer’s Lonestar Memories only with more motor oil and possibly some roadkill, like an armadillo or something, waaaaay off there in the distance. Now I’m off to assume another identity, since I used “dirt,” “buttcrack accord” and “roadkill” in a review of something I called “yummy.” I wouldn’t buy a bottle of this either, but I’d wear it to … something. Not sure what. Mucking stalls? Bridge night at a leather bar?

March: (later) hey, why not go for it? Roses Petals layers nicely with Cuir, which smothers the rose element pretty decisively, and you get the leather without so much of Cuir’s animal skin dirtiness. Either that or my nose broke. Also … Cuir and CB Musk Reinvention together are a smell to behold. The musky sweetness of Reinvention on top of the peat-y leather of Cuir morphs them both into a sultry thing that you hardcore skank lovers might appreciate.

Patty: You are right! I wonder what Rien and Musk and Arabie would do to each other after all the nekkid mechanic wrasslin in the horse corral? Maybe we should do that next Fourplay.

Lee: steady on, you freaks!

As promised, I’m reviewing a couple of Parfums de Nicolai today, a perfume house truly deserving of more love.   I’m getting a little distracted by the Montale Cuir d’Arabie thing sitting over on a corner of my hand, but I’ll just keep ignoring that bit of… well, more on Wednesday when it’s up in the Fourplay.

Balle de Match –   Incense and citrus.  The top is the tartest grapefruit I can remember smelling.  Mouth-scrunching tart perfection underpinned with a beautiful, understated incense. It never truly loses that tartness of the citrus through the drydown, which is pretty rare for but a few perfumes, the lasting power is very nice, and it is utterly charming, balanced between the incense and the tart. Surprising that someone could pull this off, it’s a tricky balance on me, sometimes almost veering off into a bad direction.  Thinking this doesn’t work on everyone, but glad it’s working for me! 

Cococabana – Notes of coconut, bitter oranges, ylang-ylang, tuberose, cedar wood and palm. Given the notes, and how much I despise coconut and island tropical fruity scents in general, this really doesn’t work for me personally.  However, out of the islandy scents I’ve smelled and hated, which is most of them, this really isn’t that bad.  Those that like island fragrances and don’t mind coconut will find a lot to like here.  If it didn’t have the coconut, the palm and cedar in the base would make it work, adding enough to the ylang and tuberose so it wasn’t completely over the top with white lushness.  If you don’t care for coconut, this isn’t going to work for you, and you can join me over on the “no” side. The Coconut fades, but true hatahs will smell it down to the last drop.  I don’t think it’s one of the best things they’ve done, but it’s nice for what it is.

Number one – the first fragrance from the line, has notes of Egyptian jasmine, Indian tuberose, orange blossom absolute, cassis, rose, iris. It’s all floral, and mostly white, but just saying that really doesn’t describe it well enough.  It’s not a white floral like Marc Jacobs, which I find to be too much most of the time — it is understated and classy with a casual elegance that would work for day or night. Don’t make the mistake I did of spritzing some Montale Oud Cuir d’Arabie over the top of it, thinking that could liven things up.  Mis-take.  Oh, wait, but the brakes on that dis!!!!!!!!   The Number One/Arabie is getting really interesting as we go along.   Kind of like when Secretariat won the Kentucky Derby and had that floral blanket put on in the winner’s circle, but they subbed jasmine and tuberose for the roses.  Hey, don’t scoff, it’s a great contrast.

What’s your favorite Parfums de Nicolai? And a PSA for a deserving series that is coming back this fall. They have Friday Night Lights out on DVD for $19.  Truly the best series  I’ve seen on regular TV, and if you missed it last year, you can catch up on DVD and join the rest of us that are begging for this Little Show that Could to make it this season.

I’m supposed to be reviewing Elternhaus’ Moslbuddjewthing today, the scent which according to their website is “directed against limited partisan political and religious thinking, which always produces violence. For this reason, the Elternhaus perfume object may be understood politically, but if it had to be categorized, it would be, at the most, cosmopolitan.” You can achieve all that at $300 for a 50ml bottle (from Luckyscent.) Knock yourself out. If you haven’t had your daily fill of fatuous, high-art bloviation after reading that excerpt, here’s the link.

Marc Buxton created it. I mean, I guess he did. His name’s on the website, anyway, but who can tell? Maybe “Marc Buxton” is the name of their dog, along with that dog named Jesus they talk about. All I know is, I’m not going back in there without my waders on.

Sure, it’s a fine fragrance. I mean, look at the notes (cassis, basilic, marioana base, mate, immortelle, labdanum, olibanum, rose, gaiac, black pepper, vetiver, sandalwood, cedar wood, patchouli, musk, amber.) Unless you upped the rose or the cedar to some sort of thermonuclear proportions, you’d have trouble producing something I hate. I don’t get any cassis in the opening and for the first three minutes it’s rich and woody and I found myself thinking, Christ – what if I fall in love with this? But then Christ answered my prayers and trotted in a somewhat bitter, herbaceous smell (is marioana like marijuana?) which wasn’t terrible, but unless you love the smell of dope it wasn’t fabulous either. I can’t really detect the immortelle, which makes me sad but would make some of you happy. The sandalwood and vetiver kick in, the dope note fades after half an hour or so, and the drydown is one of those powerful, seamless, creamy wood fragrances where no notes stick out particularly. It’s like a giant, smoothly sanded wooden ball. Did I love it so much that I’m going to buy a bottle? No. But I’m not going to judge you if you buy it.

What’s an incense that achieves world peace for me? Well … that’s a pretty high bar, frankly. I went up and stared at my collection for awhile, trying to figure out where I wanted to go with this review, and here’s the rough segue:

Point A: I have a lot of incense and woods fragrances, because those notes are arguably my favorite in perfumery.

Point B: (follow along here, this gets twisty, do you need to go get another cup of coffee first?) I can conjure up pretty effortlessly in my mind the smell of many of my greatest perfume rides – from Mitsouko through En Passant and Carnal Flower and right on out to the weird wings (Jicky parfum. Bal. Le Labo Vetiver.) If I think of them, I can smell them in my mind.

Point C: I’ve been in a period of fascination with fragrances with low sillage/high longevity – the sort of stuff that vibrates in the background for a long, long time.

If I do a diagram of those mental tangents as applied to me personally – and why not, it can’t be any stupider than the diagram on the Elternhaus site – I come up with a sample of one – L’Artisan’s Passage d’Enfer.

I have always been amused that a fragrance name that allegedly translates to “the gates of Hell” can provide me with such happiness. There’s no brimstone there. It’s the all-purpose fragrance improver. I have sprayed Passage on top of more insipid florals and dull musks than I care to remember. Olivia Giacobetti did it, and it’s genius – fragrance as a personal transporter. This is not church or cathedral. There’s a delicate floralcy (Luckyscent says lily) that emerges slowly from the frankincense, a luminous glow, an other-ness that gives me the same kind of thrill I get from meandering alone at dusk down an interesting rain-damp street in some city I love.

The thing that really blows me away about Passage, having given it a whole day of attention recently, is I never remember what it smells like. I remember maybe 75% of the scent – the silhouette of the fragrance – but my mind fails to capture the rest of it – the part that rises like smoke and hugs me like mist, all at the same time. Melancholy and joy. No matter how many times I wear it, I never quite remember just how beautiful it is until I put it on.

So, here’s my earnest, multi-faith prayer for you – if you’ve got some long-neglected fragrance sitting up there on your shelf, because you’re always catting around with the new samples on the block, go put some on right now – or tonight or tomorrow – and give that scent the love it deserves.

Photo: Campanile di San Marco, Venice: Jim Richardson, apertureprofessional.com. If you didn’t really look at the photo, you might want to scroll back up there, it’s striking.

It is good from time to time to take stock of perfumes that I have trashed with glee in the past that I now love or at least like a lot — excellent tonic for humility, that.

Chief among them this month is Annick Goutal Eau du Fier, with notes of bitter orange, osmanthus, salt flower, clove, tea, and birch, and extra heavy on the birch, and throw in some creosote and a Kansas Highway after it’s been freshly tarred.  Smoke, fire and hot tar, how did I ever hate this? In a review many moons ago, I think I referred to it somewhat  a lot pejoratively. I still think it smells like a hot Kansas freshly tarred highway in August, but for me now, that smells pretty great.  Sad thing is the distribution on this now amounts to just the Paris Goutal boutique, and I’m not sure how many vats they have sitting in the back or under the counter, but if you’re there, grab one, it sounds like they won’t make anymore, and that’s a darn shame.  I intend to stock up when I go in October and to use my newly minted French (Pimsleur French 101, and I suck) to explain to them why they need to start making it again and shipping it to the U.S.  It, Duel, Mandragore and Sables are the most interesting of the Goutals, and I far prefer them to the florals they do. This part of the line gives it a great balance and takes it out of just another niche pretty floral perfumer into something much, much more.  Perhaps we should all bombard them to make sure they keep the tar and pancake syrup around?  Yes, I sure think so too!

Parfums de Nicolai.  Most underrated deserving line in existence.  Listen, I’ve ignored them too, but after March enjoyed them so much when she was in England and sent me a bottle of the divine Eclipse, I’ve been exploring them slowly and having a blast.  Ina at Aromascope admires this line as well.  If you’re looking for perfumes that do not follow normal lines, but have lots of quirks and eddies while remaining beautiful and captivating, spend more time with PdN.  Maharadjah, notes of lavender, patchouli, sandalwood, cinnamon, clove.  Blast of lavender on the open, which quickly dissappears, and then it’s like how red hots make you feel after you pop a bunch in your mouth – getting warmer and then hot and almost unbearable, but it’s the kind of spicy torture you enjoy until it settles down into a warm, enchanting scent.  Yeah, yeah, like that.  Love this one. Someone please slap me hard when I’m ignoring a line that is this great.

 More to come on Nicolai reviews next week, as well as some more biehl reviews.  Also, I had a drawing, um… well, quite a while back that I forgot to announce a winner for. It was for a drop of a sample of the Guerlain Pois de Senteur vintage parfum and four samples of the winner’s choice of the Memoire Liquides.  And the winner is…. Anne!  And because I’m so darn slow with this one, I’ll do a second winner, and that is…. Rosarita! Just hit the Contact Us button over there on the left, let me know which Memoire Liquides you want. You’ll have to check TPC for what’s available, and I don’t have all of them listed, some of them belong to my tpc buddies, so give me more than four choices so I can make sure I can get them to you!

Now, I have an interesting proposition that nobody seems to want to commit to doing yet, so I will.  Guerlain is releasing Quand Vient La Pluie this month, and they have a 17-ounce vat of pure parfum for about $2450.  The perfumer is Thierry Wasser and Sylvaine Delacourt.  Notes of heliotrope, violet, rosemary, sambac jasmine and a skosh of praline (huh?  oh, well, I do love Iris Ganache, so I’m trusting them that they made this work). I have no idea what the juice smells like, but since it’s a limited edition, I think it’s probably well worth having some.  I can’t ever, ever consume, sell or otherwise dispose of 17 ounces of pure parfum, but this bottle screams for a split.  There was one in the works at MUA, but they never quite seemed to come together.  I’m willing to get this bottle and bust it up into 1/2 ounce and 1 ounce splits.  But you’ll have to do it sniff unseen because there aren’t any samples yet, obviously.  It should run about $90 shipped for 1/2 ounce (includes bottle, mailing & paypal fees) and $170 for 1 ounce (includes bottle, mailing and paypal fees). Again, this is the pure parfum.  Those are estimates on the prices, but it should be pretty close.  If you’re interested, drop a comment or click on the Contact Us Button on the left. Let’s make this happen!

Last thing… I’m awash in samples again, so let’s do a drawing so I can get rid of them. This will be a big grab-bag of tons of samples of things I already have, etc.  Profumums, Parfums de Nicolai, Andy Tauer scents, Montales, CBs,  and more.  Just drop a note in the comments, and I’ll select a winner!

I had my eyes dilated today and I can’t see anything. Let’s test my touch typing skills! In keeping with my semi-blindness, here are blurry impressions of some of the fragrances I have sniffed recently, most of which did not leave me breathless.

The new Fendi Palazzo – the bottle is absolutely gorgeous, the best bottle I’ve seen in some time – a glass and gold rendering of a building (hence the name). I stuck the photo in here, but it really doesn’t do the bottle justice. The juice, as Patty reported, needs further evaluation in cooler weather. It’s a heady mélange of orange blossom, rose, tangerine, bergamot, lemon, pink pepper and jasmine, and my initial impression is that I like it better than Asja but not as much as my best friend Theorema. It starts off with a strong hit of bergamot, goes through a weird 5 minutes where it almost disappears, and then the fireworks start with the florals, and I’m thinking some excellent base notes (vetiver? patch?) It’s very rich and made an amusing fragrance accompaniment to Hairspray, in which, in case you are wondering, John Travolta in a fat suit doesn’t hold a candle to Divine as Edna Turnblad. The music’s pretty catchy, though.

Are you wondering where all the leather went in Hermes Kelly Caleche? You’re missing your leather, right? I’m missing mine. Do you know where it is? It’s on the arm of my 10-year-old Enigma. On me, Kelly Caleche is all about the roses, and no thanks. On her, it’s all about snuggling up in your gearhead boyfriend’s old leather motorcycle jacket, which is so … unfair.

I would love to tell you more about the Prada Iris Infusion, but I can’t get it to linger on my arm long enough to form much of an impression. One of the rare fragrances that will not stay, although fleeting impressions were favorable. I did try the lotion, which was lovely, and I’m not a lotion fan. I may actually get some of that lotion, which would be the first time I’ve ever bought one. A pale, dry, non-rooty iris.

Patricia de Nicolai Vanille Tonka – Louise sprinted back to their store in London and bought some after Judith commented that it smelled like incense (and what kind of stupid false advertising is that name?) On Louise, and on me for the first five minutes, it is a sheer, woody frankincense – a fascinating scent with some of the luminosity of CdG Palisander. Then on me it morphs rapidly into an atomic-level vanilla with an off note, like cake mix batter with artificial vanillin in it (don’t they make that stuff out of wood pulp?) God, it was awful. Eventually the vanilla died down again, but I won’t be repeating the experiment. What my skin does to vanilla is criminal; no wonder I hate it in any kind of quantity.

That stanky, teeny, expensive vial of oud juice that Louise bought from the flashy shop across from Selfridges – I’m sure she’ll fill in the rest of the info below. I dabbed it on and it smelled all poopy on me, like the great ape house at the zoo, or the circus without the cotton candy. Then it died down to that mulch-smell. After about an hour it was delish

Huh. Would it surprise you to hear that my computer keyboard smells like perfume? No?

I have to give SJP credit — when you smell her new Covet, you don’t think, meh, I’ve smelled that a million times before. I still can’t believe what she used as a top note. (Remember, folks — this is the throwaway, short-lived opening that’s supposed to reel the suckers in and get that credit card out before it dries down and they realize they don’t like it.) Now Smell This describes it in her review as “vaguely reminiscent of citronella,” and Bois de Jasmin (I don’t think I’m giving away any state secrets here) told me in an email that “I like it very much. It opens on a crisp, floral lavender with a bit of rose-geranium and dries down to a very soft, sensual musk.” To me, sprayed on the paper strip it smells like hell. Or, more precisely, like industrial carpet cleaner, or maybe oven cleaner. I jerked my head back like my dog did when he stuck his snoot in a nest of red ants. But NST and BdJ both give it the thumbs up and say I need to try it on my skin.

At the other end of the spectrum, the new Gwen Stefani L – holla back, gurrrl!! that juice is so unbelievably booooring. It could be any random bottle in Victoria’s Secret. Or BBW, even. There, Gwen, take that and stick it in your wide-leg sailor pants. Of all the people I expected to release something interesting, you were it. Okay, you and Prince. (Has anyone smelled the Prince one yet? I thought it came out in July?) The only thing interesting about it is the bottle, and that’s only interesting because it’s so stupid. The giant cap essentially fits over 4/5 of the bottle, leaving random customers in Nordstrom trying to figure out where the sprayer is. Cripes.  It’ll probably be one of their bestsellers.

Pucci Vivara – I love Pucci. I have some faux Pucci gear, and two gen-u-wine vintage Pucci dresses, and when I work one of those with some big Dallas hair I feel like a million flashy smackers. Anyway, you look at that swirly purple and blue container and you think, cuuuuute!! Probably something fresh and sparkly, maybe citrus?! And then the SA at N-M sprays it on a card and hands it to you and NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! It was just … really, really strong. Not sweet. More like being hugged by someone wearing Animale. Or like eating a whole gorilla. I’m thinking something fierce along the lines of Aromatics Elixir, maybe? I made that embarrassing Mr. Yuck face to the SA that I had to apologize vigorously for, and I’m not smelling it again. You chypre sluts go do some reconnaissance and report back.

PS. Remember back in March when we all talked Patty out of getting that shar-pei bag? Well, the New York Times Sunday fashion spread was filled with a half-page of New Yorkers carrying those purses, which are now the thing. P — you’re ahead of the game.

PPS Scentzilla’s back with a post on Yatagan. I love her writing; we’ve missed you, hon.

Before I get onto today’s topic, please tell me why I am so suddenly craving a sniff of the new Parfum d’Empire scents? - especially the horsey one and the Bengal Fougere… Oh yeah, baby! They’re not out yet (September sometime I think), yet I GODDAM NEED ‘EM TO BE, ALRIGHT? Look at those bottles, wouldja? Holy guacamole! I think my Cuir Ottoman frenzy lies behind this one, alongside Robin at nowsmellthis and her finger on the pulse of all that’s scented (my fault for reading through her archive on a slow Monday afternoon)… What autumn numbers are you jonesing for, with desperation?

Actually, I can segue into today’s post quite easily from the previous paragraph, as I have Tom of Perfumesmellinthings to thank for Cuir Ottoman. I got it from him in a swap: he received three two-thirds full bottles of SLs for a full bottle of CO and one of Costes - on sale at Barney’s - why the hell not? So yes, I did make the lovely man be my personal shopper for the day… He also threw in a stack of samples, hence the focus of today’s post. When I picture him schlepping across town in the LA heat, I feel a tinge of guilt…

As I meet more perfume fans online and in real life (would you believe it? *that* place still exists), I never ceased to be amazed by their generosity. It’s not simply down to glut - folks who love a scent and only seem to have a tiny sample vial of it to hand, willingly hand it over with a smile and a wave… I imagine the last part of course, but I’m sure that’s the case. Which is why I’ve ended up with Tom’s sample of Profumum’s Olibanum that he picked up at Scent Bar. If you read his review a couple of weeks’ ago, you’ll remember it suggested gothic orgiastic reveries to the poor lad’s febrile mind. Well, hoping for some fun, I liberally poured some on in front of Matt, my long-suffering SO, and laid next to him on the bed… and waited.

Now, in spite of his occasional anosmia and frequent lack of interest, Matt does seem to have a gift for, sometimes at least, pinning down a scent. ‘It’s a room with wood in it - polished wood - and there’s a pipe. It’s still warm from being smoked but no longer has the tobacco in it’. He was right; there was a sense of tobacco remnant to the scent, if not tobacco per se. As the top notes faded, I was expecting the fragrance to become more incense heavy - it didn’t. In fact, although not listed anywhere I can see, it became more cedary - Matt said ‘Someone’s chopping wood.’ It has that oily resinous feel you get from fresh log piles… So, perhaps if lumberjack outfits were our kink, it would’ve got us going. Which means I will be investing in some plaid pretty damn soon.

Another wonderful person who sent me samples recently is Judith. I shamelessly declared how I wanted to try Berberiades - she offered me some. She also sent me at least eight samples of Montales - in vials so full, they squirted a little when I closed them back up. Judith - you’re a marvel. I’m going to save the Montales for another time for a couple of reasons - first, I’m new to aoud (except for M7 and a couple of other places) and need to get my head around it; second, you need a long time to appreciate the facets of these scents because they take you on a journey and a half. I’ll stick with Berberiades for now, and my testing on Matt. I’d given up on the idea of frolics by now, as I was too busy with nasal eroticism for anything else. I thought this understated scent started like, of all things, a hesperidic gourmand - somehow both creamy and citric. Matt claimed it was lemon sherbet. However, as it dried down, the saffrony aspect became stronger, alongside soft, somewhat feminine spices. It’s one of those lovely, easy-to -wear scents, like Costes actually, but smelling like a less nausea-inducing sibling of Safran Troublant. I really like it.

One of my biggest enablers in this perfume malarkey is Ida aka Chayaruchama aka Bostonian lovegoddess and houndchaser. You’ve probably come across her, and once you’ve broken through her introversion and natural diffidence….(ha), you’ll know that she’ll offer you a sample of anything at the drop of a hat. Truly, a heart of gold. So, recently she mentioned Santa Maria Novella’s Muschio in an email, saying how it ended its life smelling like one of her guinea pig’s bellies. She offered me a sample; it would’ve been wrong to say no, wouldn’t it? This is where Matt’s ability to define a scent goes pear-shaped - he claimed it was cleaning products and wax - nothing more. Crazy fool! This fragrance is a beauty. It’s the earth and dried vegetal matter and hay (yes, I know I’m repeating myself; it’s for effect) and the outdoors in September as the sun rises and the light is sepia-hued. I felt like I was in ‘The Go-Between’, looking at Julie Christie backlit in the early morn. *sigh*

Finally, regulars will know I met Louise a couple of weeks back. She handed over a hefty (10 mls? More?) decant of Bois 1920’s Sushi Imperiale. Now, if you’ve smelled this, you’ll know it’s about as shy and retiring as the aforementioned Ida (love you I!), but without overwhelming the sniffer at any moment. Or having a mackerel or any other fishy moment either. To M it was ‘an exotic milk pudding with a glug of booze’ from the outset, transforming into something more broody and masculine as time moved on. I left the room for a few minutes and returned. It was all pervasive, impossible not to smell, an envelopment of spices and booze and vanilla and glorious milkiness. I asked Matt what it was like now - he couldn’t detect it at all, or at any of the subsequent ten or so times I asked him, that wild obsessive look lingering in my glittering eyes… He’s now gone to the gym.
Thank you to all those people who have shared with me. My life is all the richer for knowing you, and not just richer in fragrance. Even if it does occasionally make Matt run from the house in terror.

So then, what have you sampled recently, and what’s your judgement on it?

Oh, and that’s me, by the way, looking daft and tired.

Chanel recently released an updated version of Chanel No. 5 — Chanel No. 5 Eau Premiere.  Wow, who thought they’d do that?  Some classics should not be messed with, so I approached this one with much skepticism.  So let’s compare and see how they did.

Chanel No. 5 has notes of aldehydes, Grasse jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, iris, amber, and patchouli. The aldehydes fairly bust loose from the concoction, and even though I find No. 5 to be perfumery perfection, it’s not one I wear that often and prefer in the parfum because it’s a little more tamped down. It is potent and rich, and it hits that spot we all know… it’s just not me.

Chanel No. 5 Eau Premiere has the same notes, but they added more ylang in the top notes.  It comes out sweeter, less like a canon firing a blat of aldehydes at you. It feels softer.  It certainly reflects the original, and it’s easier to live with.

I find No. 5 to be the more interesting of the two, the one you can ponder and sniff and think about, looking for a new facet of it… but I’d reach for Eau Premiere as the one to put on about any time, it’s lovely and easy to wear, and it’s definitely me.  Does that make me a horrible perfumista?  Well, maybe!  As in all things, I view No. 5 as art, and Eau Premiere makes it wearable art for me.

And this brings me to my perplexing topic of the month.  Vintage Rochas Femme… what in the hell is the matter with it? I’ve had three bottles of it, and have lost better than half of the contents of each bottle to some weird pressurized fizzing problem?!?!  It has a fierce overspray and goes everywhere, so I even put it inside of a ziploc bag to spray it, hoping I would lose less of it, I still get maybe half of it that was left in the bottle. And it fizzes!  Did they put Coke in it or baking soda?  Any help would be appreciate on this topic since I’m not buying anymore until I know I can get more than half of the bottle for use!

Today I was all set to do a biased, judgmental screed on Elternhaus’ InsertAllReligionsHere (MoslBuddJewChristetc.), having prayed to all the appropriate deities that I would hate it. Because if I loved it, I’d have to throw myself in front of a bus. That’s how I feel about their blather. Instead, the combination of two different allergy medications seems to have done something to my sniffer, adding a bitter, old-vase-water note to everything I smell, including my morning coffee. While we experience technical difficulties and adjust the rabbit ears, here’s an aside, prompted by my visit with hausvonstone to Sephora, where we stared in awe at the ever-increasing “Gourmand” section. Really, a wall of shrunken heads could not have provoked more violent feeling. After some deliberation, we selected CSP Banane Vanille as the single most revolting sounding fragrance (although it was a tough choice). Hausvonstone observed, correctly, that it smells like circus peanuts. The Caramel Sunset or whatever was pretty bad. My fingers refused to pick up the CSP pineapple.

Meditating on my perfume collection (okay, right after I meditated on world peace): do I own and love any fragrances that most people might describe casually as sweet?

Sweet is my nemesis. It is the bane of my fragrance existence. I have a wicked sweet tooth, but generally not in fragrances. Too much candied fruit, or vanilla, or chocolate, or what have you, and I gag. But there are exceptions to my rule. Browsing my fragrances, I came up with a short list of things I wear to satisfy my sweet tooth:

1. Poison and Hypnotic Poison (the one with the almond. Yeah, I know. Kill. You. Now.)

2. Serge Lutens Fleurs d’Oranger (although this is mitigated both by the indoles in the orange and the cumin. But still.)

3. Berdoues Violettes de Toulouse. Go ahead, laugh. I don’t care. I wear it to bed. It’s like my summer granny gown – wildly unsexy but comforting.

4. L by Lolita de Lempicka. The sweetness of the base is offset by the immortelle, but – hey – who’s kidding whom? It’s sweet.

And that’s … about it. Now it’s your turn for your dirty little confessions. Molinard Tendre Friandise? Serge Lutens Rahat Loukoum? (Kill me now.) Your wall of Comptoir Sud Pacifiques? You can tell me. What satisfies your sweet tooth, or are you untainted?

OF NOTE: PERFUME ARTICLES/VIDEO IN SEPTEMBER ALLURE. I believe it was cheesy Allure magazine awhile back that did a big spread on the new Chanel Exclusifs line, and we all scratched our heads. Allure? So far as I know, their demographic is my 13-year-old. When the September issue arrived in the mail on Saturday, with a brunette Britney Spears on the cover (”Britney: Do the Drapes Now Match The Carpet?”), I leafed through it. There are two interesting articles on fragrance, Message in a Bottle (”an unprecedented number of fashion houses are inventing new perfumes…”) and Scents of Self, written by English novelist Kate Atkinson (”from Arpege to patchouli, one woman’s sense of smell transports her to many places”), the latter article starting off with Je Reviens and touching on scent memories. In addition, flipping through the magazine I glimpsed bottles of Le Labo, Malle and Memoire Liquide, connected to other blurbs. On their website at the link above there’s also a video (scroll down the page) of random people sampling the new Tom Fords. I have no idea what’s going on with Allure and their fragrance coverage, but I’m all for it.

Here’s the family!  Photo on the right — Alex is on the left, then Warren (wonderful husband, in his Tilly hat, which he always has) me, then my youngest son, Harry.

The photo on the left — That’s Harry on the left and Alex on the right. Love the disparity in height. Harry’s about 6′4″ and Alex is about 5′7″.  Isn’t that fun?  I had that picture made into a dry erase board too.  When they were growing up, people couldn’t tell them apart. I still look at them and know how much alike they are in all the places that count and how very different and unique. That’s the beauty of kids, watching them become persons, flawed and perfect. 

I adore my boys and my husband, and you’ll probably have to put up with more pictures over the next few weeks.  I’ve waited forever for these.  Both boys hated school pictures, so they wouldn’t bring home the envelopes.  It’s been since both of them were in 8th grade I’ve had new pictures.

So what’s new?  I’ve got a couple of the newest designer releases – Sarah Jessica Parker Covet and Fendi Palazzo. 

Covet has notes of wet greens, geranium leaves, Sicilian lemon, lavender, chocolate, honeysuckle, magnolia, muguet, musk, vetiver, bois de cashmere, teakwood and amber.  I think Lovely, her first effort, was really nice. Covet just isn’t doing it for me. Nothing is really wrong with it, and I’d certainly wear it with little complaint, but the notes seem to wind up in a jumble, and I can’t really find the character of this perfume — nothing completely unique or different or memorable.  Maybe with less lemon or lavender, I would like it more. Or maybe more musk?  I doubt those who really liked Lovely will be disappointed, but I think I was hoping for something a little more out there.

Palazzo has notes of orange blossom, rose, tangerine, bergamot, lemon, pink pepper and jasmine.  Have you see this bottle? Like all Fendi bottles, it’s another masterpiece: clear with the palazzo windows in gold outlined on the backside of the bottle so you see it as you look through.  A gorgeous stone-shaped cap made out of clear acrylic with a gold Fendi insignia shaped inside.  Looking at that bottle, I wanted to fall in love with this perfume, like I’m in love with Asja and Theorema, but I’m deferring judgment for good reason.  First, this, like all Fendi perfumes, is rich and over the top, which is the thing I love about Fendi. They don’t leave anything on the table when they make a perfume, and you don’t have to dance around figuring out whether you like it or not because it’s too subtle to get a read on it.  There’s a little more fruit than I like on the open, which is a minus, but the florals bloom up rich and full shortly after the open.  And that’s where my review stops. I need cold weather to make a final judgment. This is not a hot weather perfume, it needs the fall temps outside before I think I can evaluate it properly. I like it right now, don’t love it, but I have that nagging feeling that I will move it into the winter love column, despite that fruity open.

Patty sent me a surprise taste of the new Serge Lutens Sarrasins, which is why I do things like offer her my first-born child (please, take her! She’s yours! I’ll throw in some earplugs and a year’s supply of CVS makeup!) The only description I’ve seen of Sarrasins is a floral with dominant notes of jasmine and ink.

I couldn’t tell Tunisian jasmine from jasmine growing in an alley in Sarasota, Florida. But I like jasmine as well as the next perfume freak, and I like mine dirty. My jasmine ideal is probably Montale Jasmin Full and the underrated Armani Prive. To me the entire point of wearing a jasmine-heavy scent is that naughty funk in the base. Sarrasins is surprisingly skank-free on my skin. It’s heady – what you’d expect from a white floral from Serge – with a curious synthetic note (I’m guessing the ink?) along with a whiff of Play-Doh, humorous rather than offputting. There are other flowers at work with a green edge – maybe a dab of muguet and/or gardenia. It is fairly linear on me, with a musky base emerging over several hours, but nothing that would scare the horses. The drydown is mildly nutty.

The next question is: how does it compare to Lutens’ A La Nuit? I am probably the only fragrance blogger (and possibly the only jasmine fan) who doesn’t like A La Nuit, and a test-drive of the two side by side reconfirmed that. A La Nuit opens with a cloying cherry-jam-powder note, and when it fades it’s replaced by the faint smell of vomit. That’s the way it smells to me, but maybe it smells like heaven to/on you. (Indoles are often described as a whiff of garbage, or feces, but this is the only scent in which I get vomit.) So — I prefer Sarrasins to A La Nuit, but that’s not saying a ton. Sarrasins is considerably less sweet and more musky than A La Nuit, and less sultry than Datura Noir. It smells very expensive, as it should, being from Serge. It also reminds me of Ellie D., and like Ellie, it leaves me a bit cold, while I appreciate the artistry afoot here. I’ll be curious to hear from you lovers of big white florals when it hits the streets. My guess is you’ll be loving it.

This post has been hanging out in my drafts for a few days while I tried to sort out the missing piece that was bothering me. It came to me a couple of nights ago in the wee hours: I met the Serge Lutens line right around Miel de Bois. I remember that first day I smelled some Lutens, at Art with Flowers with Bill (do you remember your first time with Serge?) Regular readers know I’m not the queen of Lutens personally — some of them (e.g., Borneo) I loathe. But Lutens makes extraordinary scents; there is nothing else like them. It took me a day to recover my equilibrium after my introduction to the line, and not just because I’d put on MdB. I am not overstating it when I say the Lutens line was a revelation in terms of what fragrance could be; they are often like a scented journey, and I am happy to be on it.

So it caused me visceral pain to write the words “it reminds me of…” when writing about Sarrasins. Is the world of perfume so big (or so small) now that Lutens can’t slay me anymore with some freakishly lovely originality, something that makes me want to weep at its beauty and smack my forehead in astonishment? Chypre Rouge did it for me, although very few of you; the others recently, like Rousse, not so much. I put the last two drops of Sarrasins on my skin yesterday and meditated awhile on the empty vial. Maybe I’ll get a different impression when I’ve got a bottle to spray from, but, lovely though it was, the magic was gone. I’m hoping it’ll be back soon; my hopes for Louve are not high.

image: Process of Understanding, by Cameron Boyle, www.artrocksgallery.com; quill pen ink, clay, black charcoal, coffee, various teas.

Today, as we inch toward September and the beginning of a seasonal shift, we’re revisiting two summer scent icons, Hermes Eau d’Orange Verte and Christian Dior Eau Sauvage.

First up: Hermes Eau d’Orange Verte, created in 1979, contains notes of orange, lemon, mandarin, orange blossom, mint, papaya, mango, patchouli, oakmoss.

Patty: Okay, I really like this one, and I used to wear it a lot… by a lot, I mean re-apply about four times a day because it disappears that fast. It’s a great one for wearing when you want something fresh and green and almost no lasting power. I still love it, but I don’t count on it to be my BFFformorethanaminute.

Lee: You know, I’m experiencing fragrance nostalgia with these two babies - both scents I discovered and wore a lot in my mid-teens. Does that make me weird or just a secret hespiridic lover? With this one, I think I loved the bottle as much as the juice - there was something in that colour which called to the latent sophisticate within (he is still yet to emerge). Anyway, this scent is a memento mori, an echo of existence’s evanescence, or, to stop with the fancy crap, just a smell that doesn’t last that long. Half an hour for me. It’s a sour green citrus with something almost unpleasantly sappy (maybe it’s the mint playing tricks on me) in the top notes and a skin brush of oakmoss and other Hermes sophisticated loveliness in its brief drydown. I wish it could be tenacious.

March: the fragrance notes at Basenotes are ridiculous; this does not have papaya and mango in it. I double-checked and Osmoz has almost the same list! I still don’t believe it. Anyway, whenever there’s a later “extreme” version of a scent, as there is for Verte (the Concentree from 2003 is done I think by Patty’s homeslice Jean-Claude Ellena) … where was I? Oh, yes, stronger versions of scents can be a tipoff to the original’s lack of staying power. Lasting power of a fragrance is a problem I have very rarely; if anything I wish some of them would vamoose a little faster. This thing, though – it gives “fleeting” a whole new dimension. I think it was completely out of sniffable range on me in less than 30 minutes, which is unheard of. I can’t say I was sorry. I think to many folks it’s a nice, juicy, very green orange, but to me that “green” bit is almost pure, um, boxwood. No, thanks.

Bryan: When it comes to the Garden of Hesperides, I’ll visit for a few moments, then ask, so where are the big fat white florals? How about a Rose? Something? I think they’re beautiful but easy. By easy, I mean not so difficult to throw together and market as a cologne or summer version of an existing eau. I just don’t swoon over lemon-lime. With Hermes, big shock, the cologne is Goregeous!!! I don’t nurture old-school love affairs with this scent (nor Sauvage for that matter), but I do respect the workmanship and beauty of this classical, and as March puts it, well-bred Cologne. I get a refreshing scent with a cool twist, which I am guessing is the mint. I don’t want to own this, but I wouldn’t exchange it if I received it…..though it would most definitely collect dust. Give me Amazone instead please.

Next up: Christian Dior’s Eau Sauvage, with notes of lemon, rosemary, petitgrain, basil, vetiver.

March: One sniff and I thought, yes, I remember. This is the ultra-man cologne. There is nothing original I can say about this, and that’s okay. It’s the smell of wealth, power, discretion and good breeding. Fittingly, there’s nothing particularly innovative about it. It’s not “sexy” (except to whatever degree you find wealth, power etc. sexy.) It’s too masculine, in a traditional way, for me to feel comfortable wearing it. Is any of that a complaint? No. Eau Sauvage is the sort of fragrance I’d give to an older man and count myself lucky if I got to smell it on him. It’s not dad-ly, by the way. But it’s not studly, either. The top’s very guy-cologne with all that lemon-petitgrain, but the herby-vetiver drydown is … hang on … hang on, I’m reassessing – aiyiyiyiyiyiyiiiii, that’s sexy. Must be the vetiver? Maybe I just think bankers are hot. Lasted all day on me.

Lee: I didn’t realise that at fifteen I was smelling like old Spanish gents taking their evening paseo around their home towns. I suppose that if there’s a MUA ‘old lady’ category, there’s also an ‘old fella’ one, and this baby sits in there as king of the castle. But, but, but… Just goes to show how idiotic such categorisation is. Okay, to be fair: some days ES strikes me as fusty, old-fashioned, ‘not-quite-me’. But, on other days, I recall why it was such a hit with me in my wide-eyed youth. A lemon and herbal beauty that’ll transport you immediately to the classy barber shop on the corner some time in the second half of the twentieth century. You’ve just got to hope that isn’t Kajagoogoo on the radio.

Patty: The quintessential guy scent. Not too Brute-ish, not too studly, nothing feminine in here, it’s all guy. Not hard to figure out why it was so popular for so long. Well-made, classic with just enough sex in it to keep it from the brink of “tailored stiff.”

Bryan: When I imagine the creation of Eau Sauvage, I picture the genius that is Roudnitska summoning his talents for the “masculine” market. I see all the insipid, silly colognes he could have done. Instead, he pushes the gender envelope and throws in some lightly floral notes and says, this is how a person (no gender required) may smell. I don’t think that this scent is “all” guy….not in today’s pathetic masculine pocket industry. (If I sound bitter, I am). This is a gorgeous, classy, timeless point of view. If a woman wears this, she smells gorgeous. If a man wears it, he is polished and beautiful as well. I understand why this is considered an early “unisex” edt. Here again I respect the composition, and while I wouldn’t want this, just as I don’t want a Magrite on my wall, I like to look at it (figuratively speaking of course) once in a while….or smell it on a passer by.
A quick note….Tom and Erin didn’t contact me….they won the tuberoses…please give my your addresses…bryanmgarwood@gmail.com…..I do so want to share.

We have some changes to announce about the Frequent Buyers Club for The Perfumed Court.  We’ve been back and forth on how best to offer rewards for those people that are frequent shoppers, and we are making changes to the original  to make it more inclusive and to allow more of you to participate.

The Rewards will be calculated every two months, and you must be a registered user of the site to participate, and once you reach a certaom dollar level of spending, at the end of that two-month period, you will get an e-mail that contains discount code good for the percent you have earned for one order in the 60 days following the issuance of the code. The Rewards are earned as follows:

• Spend $150-249 — 5% discount on one future order
• Spend 250-399 — 10% discount on one future order
• Spend 400-499 — 15% discount on one future order
• Spend 500 and above — 20% discount on one future order

We hope this change allows more of you to earn discounts and bigger ones!   BTW, for anyone waiting on an order, we pretty much got buried the last week and are finally digging out. Thanks so much to all of you, we very much appreciate your support.

If I were less lame and less busy, I swear, you guys would get a perfume review of some sort, but seeing as I’m not, you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow’s f

Let’s have an experiment – can I write an entire post without a single smutty reference? You be the judge. But first, please allow me violate the Perfume Bloggers’ Code of Ethics (hah!) to shamelessly flog the new venture of our esteemed blogmistress and three of her former volume-seller buddies on fleaBay – The Perfumed Court! Have you seen that thing? I dropped by for a peek last week and looked around for almost an hour, and there were still bits I hadn’t read. It’s not just the range of product that’s impressive – including all sorts of things I need to smell – it’s the groupings! Check out the sample packs – by note, by perfumer, by house, MUA top 25 sample set… if you’re a newbie, and you give up because you can’t figure out where the heck to start – hey, start with one of those sets! There’s got to be something to love in there. PERFUME ADDICT WARNING: Visiting The Perfumed Court late at night after you’ve thrown back a couple of drinks and you’re jonesing for something new may cause your credit card to magically levitate from its wallet and join you at your computer.

As I mentioned before, I’d overlooked most of the Patricia de Nicolai scents. I just hadn’t run across any, except Balle de Match, and somehow they didn’t sound like “me,” even if the perfumer’s the granddaughter of one Guerlain and trained by another. The scents sounded light and clean and airy and delicate, and those weren’t descriptors that set my heart on fire, no matter how well done they’re purported to be. I’m always suspicious those words are a euphemism for “barely detectible.”

A visit to the store in London with Lee in May corrected my oversight. But of course smelling all the PdNs at once is like eating an entire box of delicious, unfamiliar chocolates – they start to run together in your mind, and after awhile you start to feel overwhelmed, maybe even a bit sick. In the last week, three different Nicolais have shown up in the mail, a happy coincidence that gives me a chance to explore their charms at leisure, and decide whether I’d make a mistake in failing to purchase others besides Fig-Tea.

I can’t remember Balkis (raspberry, Turkish rose, black pepper, coffee extract, iris, benzoin, vanilla pods) making an impression on me one way or the other, although my guess is I’d have found the rich berry-rose notes offputting, and the base too vanillic. Balkis Light is apparently the EDT of the original (here’s Now Smell This’ review of both). An initial, dispiriting blast of alcohol (my fault, always jamming my nose in there too early) gives way to a skin scent I found increasingly appealing the longer I wore it. The opening is very much about fruits, without veering into predictable overt jammy sweetness or its opposite, citric tartness. But the scent really comes into its own when the coffee, pepper and iris step to the forefront, and the fragrance becomes more masculine, with the benzoin adding an attractive smoky-sweet sheen along the lines of Guerlain’s Bois d’Armenie. Balkis Light is the sort of fragrance I want to smell when I bury my nose in the neck of someone I love. As it lingered and warmed on my skin over several hours, I began to find it … well, quite extraordinary. Let me reiterate: it has almost zero sillage, even at the opening. But it’s one of those odd fragrances, like Escentric Molecules 01 and Les Nez L’Antimatiere (rumored – I can’t smell L’Antimatiere), that send a lovely thrum into the air around you. I believe this one is available only in their London and Paris boutiques.

Eau Exotique (Mexican lime, apricot, mango, orange, petitgrain, jasmine absolute, vetiver, patchouli, cedar, musk) by comparison is a “big” fragrance – not at all what I was expecting from the line. It’s a fruity floral, not terribly “exotique,” and I ought to hate it, but I don’t. It’s a stellar example of walking a fine line – if it were any sweeter or stronger it would be too much, and the vetiver, patch and musk do an excellent job of rounding out the sweeter notes. Having said all that (and I remember raving about this one when I got back) after wearing it several times I love it in theory more than in practice. It is beautifully done, but somehow not a fragrance I can imagine reaching for very often. On me (remember, I’m the one who retains fragrances) it lasted a full day. If you’d like to experience a full-bodied floral that manages to be rich without cloying, here’s your chance.

Finally, I was grateful to be able to re-smell Maharanih (orange essence and bitter orange peel, rose essence, carnation, cinnamon, patchouli, sandalwood, civet). Maharanih opens relatively sweet on me, all orange and rose, and for the first ten minutes it’s pleasant but forgettable. Then the sweetness fades and the lavender, cinnamon and sandalwood take center stage. Before I read the notes I assumed I was smelling incense; now I think it’s a trick combination of those three ingredients, rendering it into a smoky incense-like smell with an almost oudh-like sharpness, courtesy of the lavender. Finally, the civet in the base (synthetic according to the PdN website, so have no fear) works its rich, musky magic with the patch and sandalwood. Unisexy. If I blow through this decant at my current rate, I’ll be buying a bottle – it’s great now, and I think I’d wear it even more in cooler weather.

Having spent several days smelling all three, and based on my memories of the boutique, I think the PdNs possess an unusual, unifying lack of sugary sweetness and a not-quite-bitter, semi-musky base that make them stand out as compositions. Some of them I liked more than others, but assuming they work with your skin chemistry I think they’re all a breath of fresh air among their more heavy-handed contemporaries. While they’re divided into categories (masculine, feminine, eaux, etc.) they could be worn by anyone. I’m a convert.

Note: Beautyhabit has most of these (Luckyscent has others); Beautyhabit also has several of them in the much-loved, cheap 30ml size, which I am amused to see actually cost less than what I paid in pounds at their store in London, given the wretched exchange rate. If you have any comments on or other favorites in the line, I’d love to hear them.

image: Andrew Wyeth, The Wind From the Sea, pavans.net

I brought three samples of new things with me to Texas, so like them, hate them, bored by them, doesn’t ‘matter, you get them reviewed.  All are available at Luckyscent.

Montale Chocolate Greedy — What is that note?  I’ve hated it in every candle that has it. But I’m never sure if it’s a chocolate piece or vanilla piece or a combination, and this has both notes.  Notes of moka bean, bitter orange, cacao cream, vanilla from Madagascar, it starts off slightly bitter with not much orange at this point.  The drydown actually improves it, as it softens and some of that sharp yuk note goes away, it never goes over to the sickening sweet chocolate or vanilla side of the boat, but goes a little, um, flat. Well, for me, but I’m not a fan of chocolate scents generally, and I don’t need this one, but for those that like the gourmand scents, it’s probably worth at least sampling to see if it will work.  $95 for 50 ml at Luckyscent.

Profumum Olibanum — Perfection. Notes of incense, myrrh, orange blossom, sandalwood.  Starts off sharp, rich and pungent and softens a bit, but maintains a rich incense wood smell. The orange blossom is backgroundish, but I can smell just a little trilling around the incense.  My favorite Profumum to date — worth trying for incense lovers, definitely and emphatically.  $215 for 100 ml at Luckyscent.

 Profumum Acqua Viva - Lemony and refreshing, nothing to hate here, except the $215 per 100 ml price tage. What else?  Um…. er….  nothing. The end.

Texas is hot, but green, a weird state of affairs  for August.  My dad always said if he had a house in Texas and a home in Hell, he’d sell his house and go home.  The recent rains down here have worked a green summer miracle.  The other miracle is my nails. If I had a a way to get a camera picture loaded in, I’d show off my China Glaze Lubu polish, which is a takeoff on the Christian Laboutin shoes with the red soles, so they have a red-black with sparkles in it and a more reddish red with sparkles.  My nails look spectacular. I quit biting them recently, fo reasons that are unclear, and they grew and grew and grew!  Which brings me to my new (waves to R!) passion for nail polish.  If you like dark, rich colors on your nails, check out the Russian Collection for fall from Opi.  Amazing rich, vibrant hues that will make your nails happy.  Available at Head2Toe Beauty.

I love August in Washington, D.C. Anyone with a shred of self-respect has left town. August is the month when D.C. morphs from the city JFK aptly described as having “southern efficiency and northern charm” to having southern efficiency and southern charm. It’s slooooooooow. Also, it was 102 degrees yesterday — too hot to do much besides watch the asphalt melt and eat popsicles on the porch. There are homegrown tomatoes and excellent white peaches. And there are karmic payoffs – like the doofus driving behind me in the Mercedes yesterday, honking at me all the way down the damn road because I was – get this – doing the speed limit. So when s/he blew through the stop sign right after me in a fit of irritation, s/he was greeted by the cop who sits there just writing tickets. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. I’m all for it. That’s the intersection in front of our village store, where the kids cross, and people who are too busy to stop at that sign can bite my biscuit.

August is the month when I can write words like “bite my biscuit” on the blog, because many of you fine readers are on vacation too! I could write about anything. I could probably stick up recipes for chocolate pudding. I could put up some more photos of me on vacation.

Although now I’m worried, now that you know I’m “twinkly.” Now that you know I’m less and more

When I get older will I look like …

or or ?

When my hair’s short, people tell me I look like , which I take as a compliment even if I don’t quite see it.

If I could choose, I’d want to look like She’s still modeling and she’s still hotter than the sun.

Okay, enough of that. My nose has recovered sufficiently to delve into the wonders of Dusan’s gift packet, which I noticed right off the bat contained a vial labeled “SKANK” in all caps, which I’m thinking is that manky gross-out WET scent, and some M7. Which unfortunately was not accompanied by M7 guy, the martial-artist. Although a girl can dream…. hey! let’s go google that ad, shall we?!?? WARNING: SCROLLDOWN ALERT. STOP NOW IF YOU’RE AT WORK!

YSL M7. Are you wild for that photo? Why can’t we have ads like this in the U.S.? Think what it would do for magazine readership! Everybody loves M7. (notes: bergamot, mandarin, rosemary, vetiver, agarwood, amber, musk, mandrake root.) It’s a crime you can’t find this everywhere, just YSL Homme or whatever. In fact, maybe it’s discontinued. Anyway, I was looking forward to discovering whether M7 can rise to its reputation – whether it can go the distance, whether it measures up. Weird. It goes on all fabulous, more vetiver than citrus on me. There’s the handful of crushed herbs, then the characteristic sharp smokiness of agarwood … then poof. I can’t smell it. Clearly an anosmia issue, because if I give it 30 minutes and whiff again, there it is. It’s lovely; it’s extremely masculine, one of the few fragrances I can say I probably would feel funny wearing out of the house. It lasted all day, another plus. But to be honest, it didn’t stand a chance against the charms of…

WET. Cribbing directly from Nobi at Made by Blog: “In 2003, Terry Richardson and Dominique Ropion collaborated on a scent called ‘WET’ for Visionaire. The image which inspired the perfumer was Richardson’s photo of a woman’s breasts covered with sperm.” Well … that’s disgusting, isn’t it? But WET’s not the retch-fest that Secretions Horrifique is. It doesn’t smell like any secretions. It smells like a cross between L’Artisan Dzing! and a nice snog on an expensive leather couch. I have always been sad that I’m one of the folks Dzing! doesn’t work well on — I get more of the murky elephant-dung smell, not the delicious hay/leather other people get — but I keep trying, hoping it’ll all work out someday. (Actually, I guess I should buy my bottle now, because I believe it’s being discontinued.) WET combines a musky, sensual smell, reminiscent of Malle Musc Ravageur, with a note I’m having difficulty latching onto — it’s a lightness to the fragrance, a freshness, like rain, but not the dreaded fresh accord, adding an almost delicate aspect to a fragrance that is fairly intense. I found the scent strangely … beautiful. During the test-drive Hecate said, “Mom, can I have some of that ‘fume? It smells really good.” Proving that: a) it’s not nauseating and b) maybe Hecate’s a freak just like mommy. Oh, I forgot – I just went back and reread Dusan’s email and WET’s not actually approved for application to skin. Bummer. I guess we’ll see whether my arm falls off. In the meantime, I decided to tart it up a bit. So I tried layering it with:

CB I Hate Perfume Musk Reinvention – you knew that’s where this was going, right? Excellent combination – the sweetness of Musk really offsets the leather in WET nicely. So then I tried…

the vintage bottle of Bal a Versailles that Hausvonstone sent me because she thinks it smells like @ss. Wow, Hausvonstone, you are not kidding! It’s only an EdC, I wonder if somebody’s hand slipped when they were adding the dirty bits to that batch?! Layered with WET, well, that’s not something you smell every day. It was a pretty epic battle — Bal started off strong, then WET came back, then they started doing the Humpty dance. The resulting combination of incense, leather, sweat and civet was extraordinary, worth taking out in the heat for a spin to get the maximum effect.  Here’s hoping all the neighborhood dogs don’t come hang around the front door.

Louise is a regular blog-commenter here (and if you think this blog is all about the posts, and not the comments, you’ve gone wrong somewhere. No offence, team, but them there posters add a little spice to my life and I’d be lost without ‘em), and she happened to be in London until yesterday. So I hooked up with her there on Monday to seek out new lines and new sniffalizations.

First of all (and I know, blahdiblah, sheeshkebab guacamole yahdayah etc., here we go again), Louise is fantastic. Instant clickage. Delightful company. Funny, elegant, strikingly beautiful - a woman who glows life and living like it’s her breakfast cereal (it isn’t - she likes eggs and lasagne or something). And like you, dear reader, she’s deliriously obsessive about scent. But never enough that she loses sight of courtesy, warmth and all those other things that make knowing people that little bit more worthwhile. We sniffed. A heck of a lot. Here, once again, are my hazy recollections (will I ever make notes?) with one or two exciting tidbits of news and new lines, buried in there - so yes, you do have to read to the end.

We started in Les Senteurs of course - where else? This is only the second time I’ve gone sniffing with an accomplice, and this time round I noticed everywhere how fascinated the SAs were by our behaviour, facial responses, and exclamations. Les Senteurs is great because they let you get on with it, know how to make you feel comfortable and don’t assume you’re daft. And all the while you’re in a beautiful boutique with comfy chairs feeling like this is where you belong. Perfect. It’s in a rather exclusive neighbourhood and though I’m a frequently softly spoken chap, I am from the wrong side of the tracks. But I’m very welcome there. East and West (London) do meet. So, we tried a little of everything. We braved the MPGs that the Basenote boys rave about being out there on-the-edge hardcore punk ‘fumes or something - Parfum d’Habit and Route de Vetiver. They didn’t hurt us, but neither held our interest. I enjoyed Caron’s Eau de Reglisse for the first time, and agreed with Louise’s description of Le Parfum de Therese’s top notes - ‘like you’ve reached into the refrigerator for that canteloupe, only to feel your hand go straight through it’. The embarrassment of riches here can tend to make you seek out the old faithfuls once in a while, just to refresh your jading palette.

And for me, that was Chypre Rouge. Now, I know this isn’t a crowd-pleaser, but March loves it, as does Louise, and I’ve been pining for it ever since my decant ran out. I have these bottles of Serge Lutens that I wish I’d never bought - Gris Clair, Cedre, Daim Blond - I like ‘em enough, but they’re just not me. Chypre Rouge is EXACTLY me somehow, in all its twists and turns and immortelle goodness. So those three might go up for swap or something to fund a bottle of this deep russet beauty. I need it in my autumnal arsenal.

The real reason I’d wanted to hit Les Senteurs was for the Mona di Orios. They’re exclusive to there in the UK (or so I thought - see later) and I’ve been pining for a bottle of Nuit Noire - its glorious celebration of the carnal and decay thrills me like nothing else. Before I got to the transaction though, we were told a couple of things. First that Mona (I use her first name; we’re friends after all) is bringing out a new fragrance early next year, based on the scents and sensations of Amsterdam. The SAs had smelled it - totally different to her other four, which do share a common touch I think, at least in the drydown. They wouldn’t be pressed on notes, but said it was watery - natch - and floral. I’m imagining an En Passant with splashes of bong extract, but who knows. Exciting though, at least for me, as I’m a big ole fan.

Second thing: that Mona herself recommends men should wear Carnation and give themselves 30 minutes before they rule it out. Now, Carnation was the one di Orio I had tried that had done little for me. In fact, I recalled it slightly repulsing me. But sprayed: a revelation. Louise and I retired to the charming Chocolate Society cafe for a coffee whilst I let the drydown do its thing. We couldn’t stop sniffing. On Louise, it became rounded, soft, feminine without shouting about it; on me, there was a sharper, more animalic quality. We were both addicted. It’s a phenomenal act of blending, and defeats my descriptive capabilities. All I can muster is this: if Lutens’s Chêne is sunbaked skin in one direction - a lithe muscular torso damp with sweat; this Carnation is its softer counterpart - a pinker hue to the curves and folds, and perhaps some powder to cover up the beads of perspiration emergent with the first flush of pleasurable exertion. I decided that Carnation could be worn any time (I must be a lascivious old goat), but that Nuit Noire, although more limited, was still where my heart sang loudest. But, they were out of stock of the latter; fate intervened; Carnation was mine.

I’m going on a bit, aren’t I?

We moved on to Fortnum’s where Simon, the Micallef associate (Frances was there in the background, March!), chatted to us. I hope he pops in to see us here - we told him of the online world and he felt so much less the freak. I’ve probably given him the wrong advice…

Anyway we sniffed more without much real excitement, until we stumbled on a line neither of us had seen before or heard of, Bella Bellissima. There were four scents, bath oils, candles, the whole kit and caboodle. We sniffed the perfumes and three were okay, but not exciting. The fourth, Perfect Night, smelled great in the bottle. On the tester strip, it was strangely scentless. Louise decided to go for it, and used what I consider to be the most precious part of any sniffer’s perfumeable anatomy - the back of the hand - for a full-on couple of squirts. It was wonderful from the off, ginger, spices, warmth and depth, drying into the most glorious incense. We repeat sniffed as we walked from Piccadilly to Soho - it got better and better. She went back for a bottle. I recommend a visit to the website, though it looks like they’re only available in the UK for now.

At Liberty, the fragrance area have kindly thought of worried male buyers: they’ve gathered a selection of masculine fumes by the entrance so that blokes can do a quick ‘In. Out. Nobody gets hurt.’ kind of thing. I sniffed three or four things I can’t remember clearly, the best of which was one of the Anvers with a geeky lad on the packaging looking all scarved up and heroin chic. And I was pleased to hear that they’ll be getting the Stephanie de Saint-Aignan line soon, as I’ve been, like, desperate, for like totally forever (well, since December 06), to try Berberiades, and Stephanie herself emailed me to say that they don’t do sample vials….

Biggest surprise though was that the Mona di Orio four, exclusive at Les Senteurs, were also exclusive at Liberty. Would you believe it? I now had the opportunity to break my perfume budget and get eye rolls as well as tuts from my sweet man Matthew. Did I do it? What do you think?

To celebrate - a sample of Lux, Nuit Noire and Carnation to the lucky commenter who gets picked out of the hat / shopping bag / makeshift whatever… I’ll announce it in Fourplay next week. So get commenting. And if you never normally do, please dive on in, even just to say hello. The water’s lovely, and there’s a whole world of delightful smellfriends out there for you to meet!