Michael Kors is selling a pretty pink pen with scented ink! It comes in the Very Hollywood scent. Maybe other companies will do this! I don't want a Very Hollywood pen, but I'd write in Angel. ;)
Pretty neat!
Michael Kors is selling a pretty pink pen with scented ink! It comes in the Very Hollywood scent. Maybe other companies will do this! I don't want a Very Hollywood pen, but I'd write in Angel. ;)
Perfume Review: Cafe Noir (Dawn Spencer Hurwitz - DSH - Parfums des Beaux Arts)
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The first time I sampled Cafe Noir, part of DSH's line Parfums des Beaux Arts, I mostly picked up the coffee note. It's the note most often used to describe this perfume. I think that's selling this scent short!
Sure, there's a beautiful coffee note present, but that's not all! Let's talk about the coffee, though, for a minute. Where New Haarlem (Bond No.9) was a bracing double-shot in a styrofoam cup, Cafe Noir is richer, softer coffee in a cup and saucer. The barista sprinkled some cinnamon in it, a spicy-sweet twist.
"A Paris night... Dark and sophisticated,
it evokes late concerts in smoke-filled rooms...
sipping coffee and listening to jazz."
-DSH
it evokes late concerts in smoke-filled rooms...
sipping coffee and listening to jazz."
-DSH
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Once the nose acclimates to the steaming coffee and delicate spice, it's free to venture further. With the cinnamon coffee always present, a sexy floral blend wafts in. Jasmine and rose dance softly but distinctly, reminding me a bit of twin snakes of smoke and steam spiraling upwards from lit cigarettes and hot mugs.
Labdanum, a note I'm learning more about (and love), is probably what's responsible for the somewhat creamy, ambery facet to this perfume. It's the slightest bit like warm skin kissed by smoke.
Cafe Noir is not a perfume that follows the typical pyramid evolution (top-> heart-> base). On me, it's like those smoke tendrils, snaking and myserious, allowing brief glimpses of this and that. It's not a difficult scent, but it refuses to sit still and be defined simply.[1]
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In my opinion, Cafe Noir is unisex and nearly universally appropriate to wear, though it certainly would smolder at night! It draws you in for a whispered conversation and while some people consider it dark, I see it more as candlelit. But Cafe Noir is not just for night, in my opinion; it's my new favorite comfort scent.
Cafe Noir is cozy. It's romantic. It's sexy. It's most certainly beautiful... kind of like Paris (or so I understand).
House: Parfums des Beaux Arts (Dawn Spencer Hurwitz- DSH)Perfume: Cafe Noir
Perfumer: Dawn Spencer Hurwitz
Notes: bergamot, black pepper, cinnamon bark, pimento berry, benzoin, Bulgarian rose otto, jasmine, labdanum, coffee absolute, tolu balsam, vanilla
Released: 1997
Sample: purchased from DSH
Final Word: Full bottle-worthy comfort scent.
Do you have a comfort scent?
[1] Although there's a tiny smoky hint to this perfume and I'm using smoke as imagery, I don't detect any toboacco or incense or cigarette-type note here.
Falling Down the Rabbit Hole: How I Became a Perfumista.
I don't know who said it first, but someone somewhere referred to the beginning of their love affair with perfume as falling down the rabbit hole. [1] Poor Alice chases a rabbit and tumbles into a bizarre world that seems familiar but is worlds apart. Becoming a Perfumista is kinda like that.
And then one day you somehow come across a CD. It doesn't matter whose CD, or how it happened to land in your hands, but for the first time the stars aligned just so or something and BAM! You fall into a world of sound.
It's an awakening. This new world was already there around you - that's the crazy thing. You not only start finding more CDs, but you start reading about music, seeking out concerts, talking to people about it. There's so much to hear! Has it always been around? It's everywhere! People catch your attention on the train (his deep voice!), at the market (her soft whisper!), on the phone (raspy smoker!). You notice the various bird songs over your head, the jets roaring through the clouds, the crunch of leaves as you walk. Sound is everywhere and it had been all along. You can't get enough. Becoming a Perfumista is kinda like that.
How did I get here in this land of perfume? The rabbit I chased wasn't white, it was amber. But let me back up for a moment...
I read a lot of blogs. First, I read blogs because they are interesting. But also reading other writers helps you know what's going on, inspires you, and keeps you on your toes. A favorite blog of mine is The Non-Blonde. Gaia writes about makeup, perfume and sometimes about celebrities. I love her snarky way with words! I also love how passionately she writes about perfumes. I don't always agree with her, but it's clear she has a bad case of Perfume Fandom.
Fascinating! Had this all been out there all along?! I read and read, then read some more. Eventually it was time to try some of these "strange" perfumes (meaning: scents not available at my Macy's or Nordstrom). I ordered some samples based on favorable reviews, skipping notes I was pretty sure I wouldn't like. And I waited...
One of the first samples I tried was by Annick Goutal. The line isn't sold anywhere nearby, but I happened to have a bottle of La Violette hanging around that had been given to me by a PR person for review on my other blog, so I knew it was good stuff. Anyway, I had ordered a sample of the much-raved-about Ambre Fetiche. I had no idea what to expect except that a lot of bloggers loved it and that "amber" was listed as a note in many of the scents I had enjoyed smelling and wearing over the years.
I'll do a proper review of Ambre Fetiche soon, but what's important for this story is that I loved this scent. I wore the sample every day. I milked almost every molecule out of that tiny little vial. I was obsessed with the way Ambre Fetiche smelled! I sniffed my arm... I slept with it swirling around me. At times, I wanted it to wear off, just so I could reapply it!
Eventually, the vial was so depleted that I was afraid to dab any more. I was twitchy. I felt like I was in withdrawl or something.[2] I couldn't stop thinking about this perfume! After a week or so, I caved and bought a small bottle. I was so relieved when it arrived, I can't even tell you. Pathetic, I am!
But that sample and subsequent purchase... That blissful feeling I got (still get) when smelling that perfume... That need to never not have that scent available to me... That was the beginning of the Fandom for me.
Since then, I've sniffed a lot of great perfumes (and some not so great ones). Only a few take me to That Place, though.[3] But that's not the whole point, now is it?
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| Jackson Pollock, Greyed Rainbow, oil and enamel on canvas, 1953. Don't get it? You don't have to. I did. |
I once stood in front of a Jackson Pollock and was moved to tears. Goosebumps spread up my arms. It was my leap into the rabbit hole of Abstract Expressionism, an art movement that gets a lot of flack from non-art types but that resonates deeply with me. I appreciate most of it, dislike some, love some others, and am absolutely blown away by a few. Becoming a Perfumista is kinda like that...
Have you officially fallen down the rabbit hole?
What was your White Rabbit?
[1] Re: "Falling Down the Rabbit Hole" - this phrase, used in another non-Wonderland related way a few years ago, was misheard as "falling on a rabid whore." The conversation was fairly confusing for a few minutes, there!
[2] I mean no offense to anyone in recovery or battling addictions. I have the utmost respect for anyone going through that struggle, but this is the only metaphor I can come up with to really show what I experienced. I'm not trying to make light of addiction.
[3] In case you're curious: Bois des Iles (Chanel), Amaranthine (Penhaligon's), Eau Claire des Merveilles (Hermes), Une Rose Chypree (Tauer).
Falling paintings: Gail Siptak
On John Mayer and lavender. Also a perfume review: Penhaligon's Lavandula.
That's a gorgeous picture, isn't it? The rolling hills of France. The purple highlights on the rooftops of homes dripping down the mountain. The nearly-clear blue sky. Those soft mounds of lavender...
That last bit is where you lose me. Sure, it's pretty, but all it makes me think of is the smell of lavender! What's wrong with that? Well, I dislike the smell of lavender, that's what.
I know, I know: how can anyone dislike lavender? It's easy! It makes me think of old potpourri. Limp sachets pushed to the back of a drawer. The masks I'm meant to wear over my eyes to chase away a migraine or sinus headache. Herb shops. [1]
I was thinking about lavender this morning as I drove the big kid to school. As I pondered, I realized I was singing along to a song (not so unusual for me, but why are the tone deaf the most enthusiastic singers?). Then it hit me: Lavender is the John Mayer of perfumery!
Think about it. Both John Mayer and lavender are universally known. Both are everywhere [2] - consider lavender and a zillion perfumes, laundry detergents, soap, home scents; Mayer and just about every starlet he can get his paws on. Both can be annoying and overwhelming. Both are a little bitter at times. Both are, in my opinion, better when not solo (lavender and vanilla, Mayer and his guitar).Here's the thing: I dislike the smell of fresh lavender. And dried lavender. I dislike the entire concept of John Mayer from his skeezy "dating" behavior to his prolific media-hounding. But I love quite a few perfumes that have lavender in them (no one is more shocked than I, trust me). And I think John Mayer can jam! He's a good singer and a talented guitar player and can really work a pop song. What can I say? Enigmas, both...
Which brings me to Penhaligon's Lavandula. I thought it was going to be a sweet little lavender soliflore. Soliherb? [3] Again, I ask: what do I know?!
Lavandula is not your Grandma's lavender. (I don't know what that means, either) This is apparent from the opening sniff, which is a bit peppery, actually. I know, right?
A bit of black pepper, a little herbal sage... Then this perfume rolls like those hills in the picture up yonder into something softly floral. Delish! And then, when you think the surprises are over, a sexy vanilla musky amber thing starts happening, and it sticks around for a few hours, much to my delight!
Where's the typical bitter bite of lavender? The medicinal edge? The dusty potpourri?
I don't miss it, I'll tell you that. Just like I don't miss John Mayer when he's not singing. However, I admit Penhaligon's Lavandula is as soothing as some of Mayer's ballads. (and kinda sexy, like his tattoos! ahem.)
House: Penhaligon's
Fragrance: Lavandula
Perfumer: ?
Released: 2004
Notes: Basil, Canella and Black Pepper, Lavender, Clary Sage and Lily of the Valley, Tonka bean, Musk, Vanilla and Amber
Sample: Swap
Final Word: Pretty, like John Mayer
[1] I enjoy herb shops. They often have amazing things to discover! But why must they all smell sooooo strongly of dusty, dry lavender?!
[2] OK, I don't fer sure know John Mayer can be found in herb shops, but he's everywhere else.
[3] It's an herb. Which is a plant. With flowers. A floral plant herb. :)
The wearing o' the green: Chanel No. 19, Balmain Vent Vert, Puredistance Antonia.
Top o' the mornin' to you, my fragrant friends! It's Saint Patrick's Day!
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| Yes, I'm Irish. via |
But I will take this moment to say Happy St Patrick's Day to all. And, of course, talk about celebratory perfumes!
The way I look at it, we can choose to honor St. Patrick with perfumes scented with wool. Or tweed. Or eau de sheep. Or lager. If none of those work for you, there's always GREEN!
Here are my favorite green perfumes:
Chanel No. 19 is not Irish, but it is very green. Made in 1971 (like me, and all other perfect things) by Henri Robert, No. 19 was the last perfume made with Coco Chanel before she died - or so the story goes.The opening is bracing and intense green galbanum and hyacinth - almost the personification of Spring itself! Ostensibly containing bergamot, neroli, rose, ylang, jasmine, and a host of other notes, mostly all I get is that intensely green opening, some iris, and a cool leather base. The scent, for most if its wear, is light and dry and cool in a nearly powdery way. And on my skin, it lasts for ages. It's one of those scents that I'm always aware of having on; my nose never seems to forget its there.
Some consider No. 19 cold or stand-off-ish or even a bitch. Not me! It's my comfort scent. It is often what I spray on after a long, trying day. I sleep with it, and I use it when I need to find my center. I wear the modern EDT, but look forward to meeting the vintage (a yellow-green, not the acid green of today). The word on the street is that the vintage jus is even better. I don't doubt it, but I still love the current version.
Vent Vert is another galbanum-strong perfume...at least at the beginning. It came before No. 19 in creation, but not in my sampling. It was the beginning of the green family of scents. Compared to No. 19, it is warm and cuddly. The opening blasts you awake and lets you know it's time to pay attention! This green is grassy and leafy. Fairly quickly, the green is joined by beautiful florals: some rose, some hyacinth, a bit of jasmine. This in turn melds into a lovely mossy woods that becomes part of your skin. It's amazing. To me, it's like walking through very green woods in the Spring. On me, Vent Vert is neither strong nor terribly billowing, though others praise its sillage. Maybe because my sample is dabbed, not sprayed?
I'm wearing an undated vintage EDT. Vent Vert has undergone at least two major reformulations and who know how many tweaks. The original was created for Balmain by Germaine Cellier in 1947. Calice Becker oversaw the relaunch of Vent Vert in 1990, which was then re-relaunched in 1999.
But the smell? It's a bright, Spring-y green opening. Florals (jasmine, rose, ylang ylang) waft continually over a soft but persistent green base. The drydown is a green-vanilla. If Vent Vert is a walk through green woods, Antonia is a stroll through a May garden in delicious bloom.
Antonia was signed by Annie Buzantian. The scent was launched in 2010.
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| Biking in The Motherland. via |
What are you wearing today? (I've got No. 19 on my left arm, Vent Vert on the right ---and I haven't even had a beer yet.). Are there notable Irish scents? Do you wear green perfumes? If so, which are your favorites?
Perfume Review: Black March (CB I Hate Perfume)
March, being my birth month, has always been a favorite time of year. The fact that Spring usually makes itself known during March only makes the month more special.
One of the best things about Spring is the smells of the earth. Even before I woke up my nose, I enjoyed the scent of wet, fresh earth; the first Spring blooms - hyacinths, daffodils; the heady and overpowering blooms pushing free of the trees and shrubs. Even a diehard fan of Winter like myself can appreciate these optimistic signs of rebirth.Maybe you read my post "Scents I Love"? In it, I named fresh soil as one of my favorite scents. Even inside the house I enjoy it: the fresh and dirty combination of highly oxygenated air and moisture coming off of just-watered houseplants makes me close my eyes and inhale each and every time!
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I'm not alone in my enjoyment of this odd scent, this quirk. Perfumer Christopher Brosius began his former company, Demeter, with the hyper-realistic fragrance Dirt. It's still a big seller from the line, from what I understand (I haven't had the pleasure of smelling it, yet).
His second and current business, CB I Hate Perfume, springs up from where Dirt left off, giving us Black March. Based on the poem Black March, by Stevie Smith (who died 4 days after I was born), the perfume epitomizes all of the things I love about the beginning of Spring.
Brosius says, "I have thought about a perfume that reflects this poem for years. Now it's finished. Both the poem and my perfume contain a secret that you must discover for yourself. That's the metamorphosis of Black March."
As amazing as the poem is, the perfume is possibly more so.
When I first put it on, it's like opening a bag of damp potting soil and taking a sniff. On me, it evolves beautifully, like Spring. I smell soft greens pushing out from bark and budding flowers erupting from bulbs planted deep in the soil. I can almost hear the tiny twigs snapping as I lean in to examine the plants, maybe pulling a weed or just enjoying the smells. After a bit of time, I realize that it has just rained. There's no rainshower - no ozone or marine downpour - but magically these new flowers are covered in the dampness of rain. And so it stays until it's gone... a breath of fresh air.
I have read speculation that the subject in the poem is death, that the perfume smells like a fresh grave... Maybe. I'm dense about metaphors and poetry1.
It's not nearly so somber or dark as all that in my mind. I smell no death, no endings (but I'm a Pollyanna). To me, I smell new beginnings. Hope. Renewal. Though, they're not necessarily incompatible ideas, now are they?
House: CB I Hate Perfume
Fragrance: M #2 Black March
Perfumer: Christopher Brosius
Released:
Notes: Rain Drops, Leaf Buds, Wet Twigs, Tree Sap, Bark, Mossy Earth and the faintest hint of Spring
Sample: purchased from Lucky Scent
Final Word: Art. Olfactory sculpture. A must-have.
Other reviews of Black March
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- Now Smell This: CB I Hate Perfume M#2 Black March ~ perfume review
- Perfume Smelling Things: CB I Hate Perfume: Black March, Burning Leaves, Tea/Rose and Musk
- Basenotes
- Fragrantica
[1] Apparently a common theme in Smith's works was death, so what do I know?
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| my little lilac, doing its thing |
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| early daffodils |
Header image via; all others are mine unless noted otherwise.
What is Oud?
How much oud could a oudchuck chuck...?
A helluva lot, if you look at today's perfume market! Everyone seems to be putting out a oud scent, which makes it a trend, which makes me curious:What exactly is oud, anyway?
Oud (or aoud 1) is a resin made from moldy wood. No, really. And that's far from the weirdest origin of a perfume ingredient, so don't get your knickers in a bunch - I'll twist 'em for you when we start talking about musk!
The resin is formed in the tree (specific evergreens, for the record 2) as a defensive reaction to the mold. The resin has been used for its distinctive odor since at least the 3rd century in Vietnam, according to some sources.
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What does oud smell like? Woody, sweet, balsamic, rich, sharp, sometimes even smelling like incense or tobacco. Naturally, the quality of the oud oil impacts the scent, with more expensive versions (derived from golden resins) being more complex and smoother.
This is a unique note, at least to my nose, and I'm actually kind of surprised it's a new trend! I've only smelled three oud scents, with one being way too sharp and astringent to wear, one I'm not so sure about, and one I kind of like but only in certain days. Oud has a way of kicking me in the back of the throat, and pardon me for not heing used to it yet! ;)
So... Do you wear oud? What do you have to add to this basic little primer on oud? Which are the best? What kicks you in the throat?!
[1] You may also see oud called agarwood, aloeswood, eagleswood, jinko, gaharu, or oodh. It apparently is the item referred to as "aloe" in the Bible.
[2] Aquilaria and Gyrinops
Perfume Review: Angel (Thierry Mugler)
This weekend, I worked at a huge event at a DC-area mall. It was packed and I felt like I was standing at a conveyer belt doing makeup! But as busy as it was, it was a blast. The women I worked with (coworkers and clients) were lovely. Except...
Except for the woman who worked for the department store in some aspect, the one who kept walking past dragging a huge cloud of Thierry Mugler's infamous Angel in her wake.
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| It was exactly like this... via |
Angel. Infamy! It's strong. Intense. Rich. Distinctive. Polarizing. Easily overdone.
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The fact that I could smell that woman's Angel in such a setting and to such an extent...Damn! That's a testament to the power of the stuff. And I didn't just smell it - I could nearly taste it. It literally stuck in my nostrils and stayed with me for over a half an hour after leaving!
Ok, so we've talked about Angel's power. *Shudder*
What does it smell like? No, really, I'm kind of joking now. Just about everyone and their mother know what Angel smells like. Well, maybe my Mother doesn't (Hi, Mom!). For her, let's briefly discuss...
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| Not a fan. via |
Bizarre, right? But somehow, it works. It works! And it's the scent that launched a thousand ships, too. Angel opened wide the genre of gourmand fragrance: foody scents, perfumes that smell like dessert or confections.
On me, Angel is a pleasant chocolate patchouli. (One hundred and fifty thousand notes, and that's all I get: chocolate patchouli!?)
I love it, though, I really do, but grab my sample rarely. I have to a moment to consider why that is, huh? In part, I think I don't want to smell like anyone else. (Imagine if TWO of us wore it this weekend?) Also, it such a polarizing scent (many people loathe it 1) - do I want to offend? Of course not! And then there's the power. As someone who was a teen in the 80's, I live in fear of overwhelming throw and stifling sillage.
So I wear it at home from time to time. Just a drop! And I revel in the chocolate patchouli for awhile.
Like most overly rich confections Angel is a treat best enjoyed in small amounts only now and again.
Like most overly rich confections Angel is a treat best enjoyed in small amounts only now and again.
Fragrance: Angel
Perfumer: Olivier Cresp & Yves Chirin
Released: 1992
Notes: melon, coconut, mandarin orange, cassia, jasmine, bergamot, cotton candy, honey, apricot, blackberry, plum, orchid, peach, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, red berries,rose, tonka bean, amber and vanilla, patchouli, musk, vanilla, dark chocolate and caramel
Sample: I can't even recall where it came from (ages ago).
Final Word: Sweet in small doses.
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| Here's an Angel many of us can agree on! |
Tell me: do you Angel? And were you a Buffy fan? Team Spike or Team Angel?
(While I can appreciate Angel, I was firmly on Team Spike!)
Perfume Review: Jimmy Choo
Let's just start here, for lack of a better place: I do not own any Jimmy Choo products. Not shoes, not handbags, and definitely not the Uggs.
I'm aware of the legacy of Jimmy Choo, and I admire Tamara Mellon for being a savvy and successful business woman.
Mellon and Choo certainly have a great understanding of the luxury market! I clearly do not have a great understanding of the luxury market. I wear Skechers. I own numerous t-shirts, none of which cost more than $15. My "handbag" is from Target. Much of my jewelry is hand-crafted by artisans (I like craft shows), but doesn't really have a lot of value. Let's just say Lindsey won't bother stealing any of my stuff.
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| Tamara enjoys it... |
Mellon, who also poses in the ads, is apparently "into" perfumes. She's been wanting to create one for 15 years, the press releases assure.
Reviews of Jimmmy Choo's first perfume are mixed. It seems to be the kneejerk reaction to assume new, mass-merchandised scents are bad. Some are. Some aren't. But is this one...?
Let me describe it, first. The opening is a musky peachy citrus blend on my skin. Not sharp, plastic, or fake. We're off to a good start! It quickly adds a floral aspect that's a bit harsh (like the spike of a high heel?) at first, then slowly rounds out a bit. The lower notes of Jimmy Choo perfume are a gourmand-inflected patchouli. Not foody, but somewhat caramelized.
It wears well, with a presence. Sillage is moderate-to-strong; lasting power was medicore (fading on my skin in about 4 hours).
This is a people-pleaser scent, in a way, but also somewhat more complex than most of the recent launches I've smelled at Nordstrom and Saks. It's got the fruity bit that's so common popular right now (and I think it does it well). It's got that woody (not oud-y) bit that's so common popular right now (and I think it does it well). It also has that sugary bit all the kids like (and I think it does it well). It's a little of everything and as slippery to pin down as JELL-O. It's kind of like some of the Jimmy Choo shoes which, to me, appear to have a lot going on even when providing fairly minimal coverage.
That said, I still don't own anything marked with the Jimmy Choo label. While I found this perfume interesting and pleasant (and will use the rest of the sample eventually) I prefer the floral-patchouli of Flowerbomb (Viktor & Rolf) and Chinatown (Bond No. 9) to the genre of "fruitchoulis" or neo-chypres or however one might label this perfume. Still, I wouldn't say no to a free bottle. Tamara?
House: Jimmy Choo
Fragrance: Jimmy Choo
Perfumer: Olivier Polge
Released: 2010
Notes: green notes, pear nectar, sweet orange from Italy, Tiger Orchid, caramel, Indonesian patchouli.
Sample: obtained at Saks; also liberally spritzed from tester.
Final Word: pretty.
Other reviews of Jimmy Choo:
- 1000fragrances: Jimmy Choo eponymous perfume - new fragrance review
- Perfume Posse: Jimmy Choo perfume
- The Scented Salamander: Jimmy Choo, The Perfume (2011): Mix and Match Like a Fashionable Cameleon {Fragrance Review}
- On Basenotes
- On Fragrantica
- On Makeup Alley
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