(Goodness, try saying that title 5 times fast!)
Bonds are normally very hit or miss for me, but the concoctions are always fun, the packaging is amazing, and the correlations Laurice has started drawing between art and fragrance are very thought-provoking and classy. Andy Warhol's Lexington Avenue is the third in a series of Warhols, preceded by Silver Factory and Union Square. I have not yet reviewed the previous two, mainly because they don't smell good on me but smell fun on a card, and it always takes me a bit more time to write those kinds of Bond reviews. I always feel I'm missing something.
However, Lexington Avenue is different. The concoction, to start, is very unusual in its notes - who thinks of cypress as a top note? Or roasted almonds, fennel, and peony together?? It has been compared to Bond's prior success, Chinatown, and I think for good reason. It seems to share the same kind of rich, incensey sensibility, but there's one major distinction.
This starts off pale for me and stays pale throughout. Whether it is on the card or on my skin, there's just something about my nose that renders it very sheer for me. When on my skin, instead of fennel I get faint cinnamon with my pale cypress. If I breathe deeply I can smell the roasted almonds, but it is never strong. The creme brulee in the drydown sits shyly behind the lightest smoke-trace of sandalwood. The sillage is nearly nonexistent, but even with my nose next to my skin, it's incredibly faint. It's as though someone had burned incense a while ago, and I can still get a gentle whiff of it from the tray that sits nearby.
In itself, this is unusual. I'm sitting here pondering to myself "when in the world has Bond EVER made a fragrance that sits close to my skin??" I thought my nose was wrong somehow, and that I was smelling something incorrectly, but no... While others find the scent much stronger on the card, on my skin it's this wild "your skin but SO much better" kind of scent.
It's a little miracle of chemistry. I guess my skin eats whatever molecule brings out the normal sillage in this scent, but I'm not complaining. While I'm not that fond of the shoe motif, it's always good for a woman to have a yummy, neck-bound scent in her arsenal - one that makes people want to move in closer.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Brainfreeze - Versace's Bright Crystal
Every once in a while, you come across a perfume which has an intriguing set of notes, which excites you and at the same time, you wonder how that will work. I liked the notes list, but I wasn't sure how the thick sweetness of notes such as peony and pomegranate would work out with slightly greener notes, like yuzu and acajou (cashew tree), and the rich creamy-pink smell of magnolia and lotus flower. Fruity-florals are ubiquitous, but this had an interesting enough take that I wanted to try.
On a card, Bright Crystal comes across initially like a lovely fruit sorbet with orchid garnish, settling down into an outright tropical experience with none of the typical heaviness associated with tropical fragrances. On my skin, though, the experience was vastly different. I got frozen grapefruit with turbinado sugar right off the bat, but within 10 minutes that "iced accord" note takes over everything and I was surrounded by citrus-punch-Slurpee. It doesn't take long for the iced accord to really mimic the sensation of brainfreeze. It was quite the overdose, and it's a pity because I enjoy quite a few other Versace compositions (The Dreamer being my favorite).
I do wonder how this scent would work on someone with different chemistry. Aldehydes are notoriously tricky on my skin, amplified to a surprising degree. My skin turns a sparkle in a scent into the equivalent of an uncomfortably bright strobe light. So if you can wear Chanel No. 5 with grace, this scent would probably do marvelously on you. If you, like me, avoid Chanels, this wouldn't suit you at all.
On a card, Bright Crystal comes across initially like a lovely fruit sorbet with orchid garnish, settling down into an outright tropical experience with none of the typical heaviness associated with tropical fragrances. On my skin, though, the experience was vastly different. I got frozen grapefruit with turbinado sugar right off the bat, but within 10 minutes that "iced accord" note takes over everything and I was surrounded by citrus-punch-Slurpee. It doesn't take long for the iced accord to really mimic the sensation of brainfreeze. It was quite the overdose, and it's a pity because I enjoy quite a few other Versace compositions (The Dreamer being my favorite).
I do wonder how this scent would work on someone with different chemistry. Aldehydes are notoriously tricky on my skin, amplified to a surprising degree. My skin turns a sparkle in a scent into the equivalent of an uncomfortably bright strobe light. So if you can wear Chanel No. 5 with grace, this scent would probably do marvelously on you. If you, like me, avoid Chanels, this wouldn't suit you at all.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Ikebana - Jo Malone Dark Amber and Ginger Lily
Many people are well aware that Jo Malone, the person, is no longer involved with Jo Malone, the company that produces the perfumes. She left in 2006, along with her husband. Many people bemoaned the departure, worrying about what Estee Lauder would release in her name. Blue Agave and Cacao was the first post-Jo release, followed by Sweet Lime and Cedar and then White Jasmine and Mint. They all seemed to miss the mark of a Jo Malone concoction by quite a bit.
Given all of that, it was such a lovely surprise to put on Dark Amber and Ginger Lily. It truly has a similar character, that minimalist yet vibrant beauty that marks such formulas as Vintage Gardenia. At first spray you take off with gingered wood, gathered in a bow of spice (cardamom, and for me the faintest touch of star anise) and a minimalist warm floral to accent it. Like many Malones, there's little evolution of the fragrance, which is something I appreciate, but this does have some heart notes and base notes. The heart has a slightly bready sillage, though it is cleaner and spicier close to the skin in that phase. The base casts off the ginger and keeps the wood and cardamom. The floral never takes off on me; it's like a single blossom in a larger composition; a single orchid placed carefully among the wood on which it is anchored.
This aspect is what brought Ikebana - the specific Japanese art of flower arranging - to mind. The minimal flower presence, combined with multiple woods, evoked some of the floral compositions I've seen. Even the triangular nature of Ikebana seems reflected here in the constellation-like arrangement of subtle notes. I am largely unaware (read: ignorant) of the mechanisms of symbolism within Ikebana, but this fragrance does feel as though it carries the sacred and the symbolic within itself.
The scent is something I shall wear for a long time, and I'm very pleased that Estee Lauder succeeded in making something so... Jo-like. Incense lovers, run, don't walk, to the nearest Jo Malone counter!
Given all of that, it was such a lovely surprise to put on Dark Amber and Ginger Lily. It truly has a similar character, that minimalist yet vibrant beauty that marks such formulas as Vintage Gardenia. At first spray you take off with gingered wood, gathered in a bow of spice (cardamom, and for me the faintest touch of star anise) and a minimalist warm floral to accent it. Like many Malones, there's little evolution of the fragrance, which is something I appreciate, but this does have some heart notes and base notes. The heart has a slightly bready sillage, though it is cleaner and spicier close to the skin in that phase. The base casts off the ginger and keeps the wood and cardamom. The floral never takes off on me; it's like a single blossom in a larger composition; a single orchid placed carefully among the wood on which it is anchored.
This aspect is what brought Ikebana - the specific Japanese art of flower arranging - to mind. The minimal flower presence, combined with multiple woods, evoked some of the floral compositions I've seen. Even the triangular nature of Ikebana seems reflected here in the constellation-like arrangement of subtle notes. I am largely unaware (read: ignorant) of the mechanisms of symbolism within Ikebana, but this fragrance does feel as though it carries the sacred and the symbolic within itself.
The scent is something I shall wear for a long time, and I'm very pleased that Estee Lauder succeeded in making something so... Jo-like. Incense lovers, run, don't walk, to the nearest Jo Malone counter!
Friday, May 1, 2009
Wet hearth - Le Labo Oud 27
Normally, Le Labo has a bit of an unfair advantage with me. Not only did I meet and talk to the owners of this line long before I looked at their site or marketing, I also sniffed four of their most stunning scents in a row (Neroli, Ambrette, Fleur D'Oranger, and my beloved Labdanum) before hitting something even remotely mediocre.
Seriously. If Eddie and Fabrice were movie directors, I'd be so in love I'd forgive almost anything. (Cue Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg giggling in the background.) So when I received the rather astoundingly generous sample of Oud 27 this past month, I was so excited I bounced. Yes, they made a near-40-yr-old bounce.
Therefore, the development of the top and heart notes on this scent were pretty devastating to me. I have tried a few times, and each time I wander around going "Where's the gaiac wood? Where's the saffron?" Well, I'll tell you where it is - it's waiting in a back alley to come sneak up on you and steal your wallet ~2 hours later... after you've come out of the theater, recovering from watching a version of Cinderella where all they do is throw buckets of dirty bathwater on the poor girl's fire. I kept thinking 'soaked ash can, ash can' for those first two hours. It's a pity, because the intriguing, oud-and-spice drydown is reminiscent of (yet divergent from) some of the more bold Montale oud mixologies. However, I can't wait two hours for my fragrance to get to a point of public wearability.
The positive bit is that I never, even during the ash can/soaked fireplace phase, felt compelled to wash this off. In a sense, it reminds me of Fumerie Turque in that way. I'm curious what FT wearers think of this scent!
Seriously. If Eddie and Fabrice were movie directors, I'd be so in love I'd forgive almost anything. (Cue Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg giggling in the background.) So when I received the rather astoundingly generous sample of Oud 27 this past month, I was so excited I bounced. Yes, they made a near-40-yr-old bounce.
Therefore, the development of the top and heart notes on this scent were pretty devastating to me. I have tried a few times, and each time I wander around going "Where's the gaiac wood? Where's the saffron?" Well, I'll tell you where it is - it's waiting in a back alley to come sneak up on you and steal your wallet ~2 hours later... after you've come out of the theater, recovering from watching a version of Cinderella where all they do is throw buckets of dirty bathwater on the poor girl's fire. I kept thinking 'soaked ash can, ash can' for those first two hours. It's a pity, because the intriguing, oud-and-spice drydown is reminiscent of (yet divergent from) some of the more bold Montale oud mixologies. However, I can't wait two hours for my fragrance to get to a point of public wearability.
The positive bit is that I never, even during the ash can/soaked fireplace phase, felt compelled to wash this off. In a sense, it reminds me of Fumerie Turque in that way. I'm curious what FT wearers think of this scent!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Mother-strong - Miller et Bertaux bois de gaîac et poire (Close Your Eyes And...)
In 2007, I listed this fragrance among my "Best of" list, but I didn't do much of a review. I mentioned that my skin brings out woody scents like mad, a fact which renders most perfumes with a strong cedar note unwearable, and then proceeded to gush for a few sentences about this scent.
I revisited this scent recently, and was again stunned at how lovely it was on my chemistry. When you sniff the concoction on a card, it's mostly ordinary-pretty - a powdery floral which doesn't have much oomph besides rose and cedar. It's Kenzo Flower with cedar replacing violet. (I think that simple replacement on its own is worthwhile, even though I love Flower, but I digress.) Sprayed on a card, the wood isn't remarkable.
Then I put it on me.
Oh my. I have to say, when I was an ignorant child reading all those Victorian stories which included lush descriptions of "teakwood," this is what I imagined teak would smell like. The wood note is almost resinous, smelling remarkably sensual without being sultry, and the rose and heliotrope fade into a scattering of warm face talc... not baby powder, but that unique mineral-ish powder smell. It also has a tiny tinge of brandy, which is kind of thrilling. It makes me into a woman of old, writing in a small room, with an apertif by her side. Or I am Jane teaching Adele how to write by a cloudlit bay window. Or I am a gifted pirate figurine on the desk of a lonely captain from the East India Company. Most importantly, in this scent, I am Sara Crewe's mother-memory.
"Close Your Eyes And..." turns into this stunning nostalgic scent on my skin while being modern and romantic. If you have the type of chemistry that makes cedar scents turn to ground pencils, I highly recommend you try this scent.
I revisited this scent recently, and was again stunned at how lovely it was on my chemistry. When you sniff the concoction on a card, it's mostly ordinary-pretty - a powdery floral which doesn't have much oomph besides rose and cedar. It's Kenzo Flower with cedar replacing violet. (I think that simple replacement on its own is worthwhile, even though I love Flower, but I digress.) Sprayed on a card, the wood isn't remarkable.
Then I put it on me.
Oh my. I have to say, when I was an ignorant child reading all those Victorian stories which included lush descriptions of "teakwood," this is what I imagined teak would smell like. The wood note is almost resinous, smelling remarkably sensual without being sultry, and the rose and heliotrope fade into a scattering of warm face talc... not baby powder, but that unique mineral-ish powder smell. It also has a tiny tinge of brandy, which is kind of thrilling. It makes me into a woman of old, writing in a small room, with an apertif by her side. Or I am Jane teaching Adele how to write by a cloudlit bay window. Or I am a gifted pirate figurine on the desk of a lonely captain from the East India Company. Most importantly, in this scent, I am Sara Crewe's mother-memory.
"Close Your Eyes And..." turns into this stunning nostalgic scent on my skin while being modern and romantic. If you have the type of chemistry that makes cedar scents turn to ground pencils, I highly recommend you try this scent.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
citrus salsa - Sisley's Eau de Sisley 3
Well now, this was a surprise. I'm not normally a Sisley fan, but for #3, they surprised me. It looks like they took a page from the book of Ultraviolet (Paco Rabanne) and mixed an unusual flower and fruit with something spicy. But where Paco Rabanne combined pimento and capsicum with osmansthus, Eau de Sisley #3 removes the pimento and adds TONS of citrus to the top, combining the bittersweetness of grapefruit with lemon and mandarin. I had no idea that the combination of sweet citruses would work so well, but they do - the "ginger" note is a melange of typical ginger aromatics plus the tinge of capsaicin.
You wouldn't know the difference until you ingest ginger alongside the fragrance - then you can tell that the sesquiterpenesque notes are enhanced ;) Capsaicin is the obvious culprit, though I have no proof whatsoever. However, if you mix sliced grapefruit, sliced mandarin, and sliced ginger, then sprinkle cayenne pepper on it? You get exactly what this smells like on my chemistry. Since grapefruit normally smells nasty-sour on my skin, this is a sheer success. This smells STUNNING on my skin. So much so, that I needed a whole bottle. I'm not normally a fan of fruity fragrances, but successful citruses are a distinct exception. Even during the (brief) romantic and ambery drydown, the citrus and ginger lives on, and considering how fleeting citrus usually is, I'm VERY happy with this concoction. #3 will be a lovely summer-into-fall scent, for those of you who are seasonal with your fragrance-wear
Notes:
top / citrus, bergamot, mandarin, grapefruit, lemon
heart / red ginger, osmanthus
base / patchouli, vetiver, benzoin, vanilla and musk.
You wouldn't know the difference until you ingest ginger alongside the fragrance - then you can tell that the sesquiterpenesque notes are enhanced ;) Capsaicin is the obvious culprit, though I have no proof whatsoever. However, if you mix sliced grapefruit, sliced mandarin, and sliced ginger, then sprinkle cayenne pepper on it? You get exactly what this smells like on my chemistry. Since grapefruit normally smells nasty-sour on my skin, this is a sheer success. This smells STUNNING on my skin. So much so, that I needed a whole bottle. I'm not normally a fan of fruity fragrances, but successful citruses are a distinct exception. Even during the (brief) romantic and ambery drydown, the citrus and ginger lives on, and considering how fleeting citrus usually is, I'm VERY happy with this concoction. #3 will be a lovely summer-into-fall scent, for those of you who are seasonal with your fragrance-wear
Notes:
top / citrus, bergamot, mandarin, grapefruit, lemon
heart / red ginger, osmanthus
base / patchouli, vetiver, benzoin, vanilla and musk.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Light the lamp - Crazylibellule and the Poppies Dans tes Bras
There is something lovely and accessible about the Crazysticks line that Isabelle Masson-Mandonnaud created as the opening salvo of Crazylibellule and the Poppies. One can acquire niche-fragrance charm without having to pay niche-perfume prices. The sticks come in interesting and pretty paper containers, and they last quite a long time, even if the scent fades quickly.
I admit to being dubious at first. It seemed a bit odd. But the notes were appealing, so when I received a sample of Dans tes Bras (In Your Arms), I tried it.
Well, I could SMELL there was something lovely in this, but it's overlain by a far-too-distracting smell. I apologize to those who use this medium, but I can't help it. I smell the paraffin base as though someone was burning one of those interesting glass lamps. The smell has a LOT going for it, but I simply couldn't smell it until 2 hours had gone by, and by then it was so faint I wasn't sure I was smelling it correctly. However, if you all try it and don't smell the paraffin, do feel free to share your views!
Notes: juniper, pink pepper, patchouli, peach, cedar, amber, musk
I admit to being dubious at first. It seemed a bit odd. But the notes were appealing, so when I received a sample of Dans tes Bras (In Your Arms), I tried it.
Well, I could SMELL there was something lovely in this, but it's overlain by a far-too-distracting smell. I apologize to those who use this medium, but I can't help it. I smell the paraffin base as though someone was burning one of those interesting glass lamps. The smell has a LOT going for it, but I simply couldn't smell it until 2 hours had gone by, and by then it was so faint I wasn't sure I was smelling it correctly. However, if you all try it and don't smell the paraffin, do feel free to share your views!
Notes: juniper, pink pepper, patchouli, peach, cedar, amber, musk
Friday, April 24, 2009
the 14-yr-old wallflower - Juliette Has A Gun's Miss Charming
As a woman who loves words, I occasionally get fluffy over a perfume name. Plus Que Jamais? Passage D'Enfer? Iris Silver Mist? All are perfect examples. I am unsure how many of these perfumes would rate so highly on my scale without their names.
However, I am not the sort of person to get fluffy of a description, no matter what, and so poorly written ones will send me quite the opposite way. Therefore, I am presenting this review with the understanding that I am SO unbalanced by my reaction to the description, I cannot be held accountable.
No, really. When I read this I had to wonder who would fall for it:
sic, and sic sic sic again. Yes, host tears on her bowl. The name, Miss Charming, did little to reconcile me to it. So with some intense reservation, I sprayed on skin.
Well, it isn't horrible by any stretch of the imagination. After the first few minutes, a sort of strange, powdered, almost aldehydic apple-y rose comes to the fore, and woody notes and some oakmossy tones start jamming in the background. Each component on its own is not offensive in the least. The problem is the combination. Sniffing this reminds me of nothing more than a young girl showering before the school dance, then applying Rose Milk lotion and Johnson's baby powder before lightly spritzing some Charlie.
Poor girl doesn't know that the three just don't go together. Drop one out of the mix and a girl might have something keen; the three smack of trying too hard. And so I imagine the girl standing against the wall all night, even her friends deserting her as the music twirls.
Now, once that funky appley rose dies down, things get better. It smells a bit more like a 60s-style chypre, and on that level I really enjoy it quite a lot! By that time, though, I am reminded of older Catherine Deneuve, and while the moniker of "Miss Charming" can still apply to her, that description has seriously got to go.
Notes: Moroccan rose, musk, wood fruits
However, I am not the sort of person to get fluffy of a description, no matter what, and so poorly written ones will send me quite the opposite way. Therefore, I am presenting this review with the understanding that I am SO unbalanced by my reaction to the description, I cannot be held accountable.
No, really. When I read this I had to wonder who would fall for it:
The perfume of a virgin witch, docile and provocative, elegant and sensual. One instant, holding up the pressure of the world and the next, crying host tears over the death on Enzo, her bowl"
sic, and sic sic sic again. Yes, host tears on her bowl. The name, Miss Charming, did little to reconcile me to it. So with some intense reservation, I sprayed on skin.
Well, it isn't horrible by any stretch of the imagination. After the first few minutes, a sort of strange, powdered, almost aldehydic apple-y rose comes to the fore, and woody notes and some oakmossy tones start jamming in the background. Each component on its own is not offensive in the least. The problem is the combination. Sniffing this reminds me of nothing more than a young girl showering before the school dance, then applying Rose Milk lotion and Johnson's baby powder before lightly spritzing some Charlie.
Poor girl doesn't know that the three just don't go together. Drop one out of the mix and a girl might have something keen; the three smack of trying too hard. And so I imagine the girl standing against the wall all night, even her friends deserting her as the music twirls.
Now, once that funky appley rose dies down, things get better. It smells a bit more like a 60s-style chypre, and on that level I really enjoy it quite a lot! By that time, though, I am reminded of older Catherine Deneuve, and while the moniker of "Miss Charming" can still apply to her, that description has seriously got to go.
Notes: Moroccan rose, musk, wood fruits
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sensual from All Directions - Etat Libre d'Orange's Tom of Finland
I bought this during Sniffapalooza, after reading the notes and sniffing it on a beautiful friend. I openly admit that I never tried it on my skin before buying a full bottle. Smelling it on S and then noting that the purchase benefited a foundation dedicated to preserving erotic art was enough to warrant a purchase.
Given that, it's a damn fine scent on me.
But let me rewind. First things first: no one told me that the box would be so SILKY. I think I've spent about 30 minutes just stroking the box. It's like the subtlest suede ever - like those soft, velvety book covers in the 90s, the Bukowskis from Black Sparrow Press, the reprints of Miller's Tropics, or the selected poems of Anne Sexton. I don't know who else will know what I'm talking about, but the texture is unique. Skin-like. Like touching a young person's neck. For this particular texture to preface a fragrance is for someone to open my memories of a time when a young man said to me (whilst holding one of those books), "I want you to be my Anais Nin."
(Yes, that is a true story. Luckily, I didn't play that role for long.)
Therefore, the jump into Tom of Finland's briny, earthy playground seems apropos. According to the description inside:
After a while, one's heat brings out the cypress and the pepper, but pine and geranium are never pronounced. Normally I don't smell good in evergreen notes, but this concoction makes it work. It's not particularly sexy on female skin, per se, but during the top and heart notes it is ultimately very playful.
Then it dries down.
Oh, dirty, dirty, dirty.
No, really. Romantic, but dirt. Lovely, springtime, wet musky earth. But with, oddly enough, really subtle yet gorgeous ambery sillage. Imagine a pretty amber with the lightest touch of lemon and birch, overlaid on a rich peaty whiskey scent. Heavy swooning on this end! Even better, your spring-earth-fecundity stage will only be noticeable by those who are close to you. As a quick note - vetiver earth is vastly different from patchouli earth, and it should be noted that there is no moment where the earthiness ever smells in any way unclean. Even the tonka bean note, which usually ends up as halitosis on me, is the tiniest, wispiest smell.
All in all, an incredibly pleasant, sensual, yet unthreateningly unique fragrance. The lack of anything particularly unsettling is unusual for something branded as racy. There is nothing brash or over-the-top about the way this smells. It is, all told, a scent that is charming with its surprises.
(In the meanwhile, I can still be entertained by the idea of me as a male Delta of Venus. Hold Nin's later works, please - I shall stay fervently within the non-contentious Four Chambered Heart.)
Notes:
top/aldehyde, lemon
middle/birch, leaves, pine, safraleine, pepper, cypress, galbanum, geranium
base/vanilla, tonka bean, iris, vetiver, styrax pyrogene, suede, musk, gray amber
p.s the box says "dirty drawing inside" but all I found was a drawing of two men kissing. I feel both cheated and sad for the society that thinks this needs a 21+ warning.
Given that, it's a damn fine scent on me.
But let me rewind. First things first: no one told me that the box would be so SILKY. I think I've spent about 30 minutes just stroking the box. It's like the subtlest suede ever - like those soft, velvety book covers in the 90s, the Bukowskis from Black Sparrow Press, the reprints of Miller's Tropics, or the selected poems of Anne Sexton. I don't know who else will know what I'm talking about, but the texture is unique. Skin-like. Like touching a young person's neck. For this particular texture to preface a fragrance is for someone to open my memories of a time when a young man said to me (whilst holding one of those books), "I want you to be my Anais Nin."
(Yes, that is a true story. Luckily, I didn't play that role for long.)
Therefore, the jump into Tom of Finland's briny, earthy playground seems apropos. According to the description inside:
This is fresh, pure water, with top notes of aldehydes and lemon, a water that washes away the sins of the night and leaves the skin luminous.To me, that's hardly the water I get. I smell the lemon, but it's more the smell of the garnish of oysters - I smell the slightly earthy tone of seashell, from the birch and vetiver, straight off the bat. Those notes never die, and thus while I can grade it as a masculine smell, it smells incredibly good on my chemistry.
After a while, one's heat brings out the cypress and the pepper, but pine and geranium are never pronounced. Normally I don't smell good in evergreen notes, but this concoction makes it work. It's not particularly sexy on female skin, per se, but during the top and heart notes it is ultimately very playful.
Then it dries down.
Oh, dirty, dirty, dirty.
No, really. Romantic, but dirt. Lovely, springtime, wet musky earth. But with, oddly enough, really subtle yet gorgeous ambery sillage. Imagine a pretty amber with the lightest touch of lemon and birch, overlaid on a rich peaty whiskey scent. Heavy swooning on this end! Even better, your spring-earth-fecundity stage will only be noticeable by those who are close to you. As a quick note - vetiver earth is vastly different from patchouli earth, and it should be noted that there is no moment where the earthiness ever smells in any way unclean. Even the tonka bean note, which usually ends up as halitosis on me, is the tiniest, wispiest smell.
All in all, an incredibly pleasant, sensual, yet unthreateningly unique fragrance. The lack of anything particularly unsettling is unusual for something branded as racy. There is nothing brash or over-the-top about the way this smells. It is, all told, a scent that is charming with its surprises.
(In the meanwhile, I can still be entertained by the idea of me as a male Delta of Venus. Hold Nin's later works, please - I shall stay fervently within the non-contentious Four Chambered Heart.)
Notes:
top/aldehyde, lemon
middle/birch, leaves, pine, safraleine, pepper, cypress, galbanum, geranium
base/vanilla, tonka bean, iris, vetiver, styrax pyrogene, suede, musk, gray amber
p.s the box says "dirty drawing inside" but all I found was a drawing of two men kissing. I feel both cheated and sad for the society that thinks this needs a 21+ warning.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Rediscovery
it has been a long, rough time since I last posted in this blog. I can trace my irregularity (no Metamucil jokes please) back to the moment when I realized that I would not be able to afford new perfume for a good long time, nor would I be able to support the continuance of my own. *cue sad face here.*
All that said, most of life behaves on a trigonometric curve, and no position remains fixed over time. Therefore I find it deeply appropriate that I am returning to some old favorites. This morning it was CK truth; tonight it's Ambra di Venezia. Yesterday it was TBS' glorious but discontinued Mostly Musk. The day before it was Ultraviolet. I see a trend, here.
Therefore, I am aiming to re-initiate my former perfume review chops - let's see if I retain my discipline ;)
All that said, most of life behaves on a trigonometric curve, and no position remains fixed over time. Therefore I find it deeply appropriate that I am returning to some old favorites. This morning it was CK truth; tonight it's Ambra di Venezia. Yesterday it was TBS' glorious but discontinued Mostly Musk. The day before it was Ultraviolet. I see a trend, here.
Therefore, I am aiming to re-initiate my former perfume review chops - let's see if I retain my discipline ;)
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