Alrighty then. So Monday we tackled most of La Collection; today we’re doing Magie. And forgive the sporadic posting and response, I’ve got work projects that need to be done in 2009, and the kids are underfoot. We’ve all had a little too much time together, between the holiday break and the unscheduled snow days, and the twins are turning feral, so that periodically I have to go assess the situation when, for instance, Buckethead gets aggravated with Hecate’s fencing proficiency on the Wii and smacks her upside the head with the controller.
Magie was humorous because first of all, I couldn’t get the stopper out of the bottle. So I used Melissa and Louise’s trick of placing the bottle in the freezer for a few minutes, et … voila. It came right out. So there’s a handy piece of information for you.
Then I broke up another squabble, had some lunch, and threw on a generous amount of Magie. Notes are jasmine, violets, musk and amber, sorry, that seems a bit short but that’s the most complete list I can find.
Magie is powdery at the top, and sweet – the jasmine is very slightly indolic, but nothing too scary. Just as I was settling in the house started to shake, and then Amberzilla stomped through the room in a truly terrifying way, and one of these days, so help me God, I’ll learn not to stick my wrist up to my nose right after I’ve put something new on. That heavy, sweet amber singed all my nose-hairs right off and then it stomped around some more. And okay, I get it, some of you are true amber lovers. And I appreciate amber in the abstract, I see the attraction, it can (theoretically) be very comforting. Alas, I like my amber buried behind a heavy, restraining hand of a bunch of other notes, and this was TOO TOO MUCH. I lasted about 30 minutes before, tears running from my eyes, I sprinted upstairs and grabbed my uber-skank atomizer of Bal a Versailles EdC – y’all know the one, you twisted perfumistas – that particular version of Bal that smells like they read the recipe wrong and put in twice as much butt as was called for. Anyhow, a couple of sprays of that pulled Amberzilla’s fangs right out of my wrist. Then I went off to Trader Joe’s smelling like I’d just ridden in from the Winter Bal Masque, having stepped in something barnyard-y while dismounting my stallion, and oh well. I tried the whole experiment again today, because apparently I am a slow learner, and same results, only this time I threw some Demeter Bonfire on there to take the edge off. That was nice. You know what would be really great on top? Something dark and leathery.
As it stands, then, Magie is the only one of these I probably won’t be wearing. I may be the sweet-eater but I am the amber-magnifier, and I end up feeling like I’m drowning in a vat of syrup.
Climat, on the other hand, after a few more test drives, has emerged as the surprising front runner. I just can’t get enough of its weird development – that split personality it has, all green and fizzy and armed-with-a-shiv up top, with those sweet, creamy white florals underneath. It’s so stunning I keep putting it on over and over, just for the ride. I can’t even say that I particularly love it, I don’t think it’s “me” at all – and thank heavens it’s in a dabber, this is some serious sillage, I wouldn’t want to dump this bottle on myself accidentally. But it’s so arrestingly beautiful I want to wear it again and again.
By the way, I dug around, here’s a link to the page where you can download Luca Turin’s original blog posts via a PDF. “The Lost Chord,” where he tells the story of searching many years later for the mystery perfume he smelled on a girl while on a trip to Spain, is on page 386. Page 426 is the update, where he begins to focus his search, with the names Je Reviens and Climat emerging. I’m annoyed that I can’t seem to find the final post (maybe it was on NZZ?) where he reveals that after sampling around, it was Climat he’d been searching for.
I found the Lost Chord posts (and many of the others on his defunct blog) wildly entertaining, and the comments are lively. And no, I’ve never met the man, and no, his opinions don’t bother me. I’ve always been baffled by the complaint that his perfume reviews (or Chandler Burr’s, or – hey – mine) are “opinion.” Well, of course they’re opinion, folks! Criticism, informed and otherwise, whether of art, music, literature, and perfume, is at some level opinion. When LT and I agree – hey, he’s spot on. The man’s a genius. When we disagree, well … he’s wrong, isn’t he? It’s nothing to cry over. If someone can direct me to Luca’s big reveal and discussion of Climat (was it in one of his books?) I’ll publish the link.