Spritz Me With Mexican Chocolate!

Chocolatl, by Euphorium Brooklyn, was a scent that had me pacing back and forth by the mailbox while I waited for the sample to come for me to review.

I'm a little obsessed with all things Mexican and that most certainly includes champurrado, or "Mexican hot chocolate," something I was particularly craving at the time I found out about this scent and learned I was getting a sample of this new release. 

Chocolate originated in Mexico, originally called xocoatl, an Aztec word, which was originally a bitter (not sugary sweet!) drink made from cocoa beans. (I used to make chocolate - I have weird chocolate knowledge.)

When I was in Oaxaca, I eschewed morning coffee for the delicious champurrado each morning, hand mixed with a special wooden whisk (I own one) to create a fabulous blend of spices and chocolate that ended up oddly gritty and thickly foamy. I highly recommend it.

Anyway, that craving was running high and I was drinking my own sub-par homemade version (I can't get it thick enough!), when this sample landed. 

Sprayed immediately. 

Here's what we are expecting, according to the website:

DARK MEXICAN COCOA

SPICE & PILONCILLO

TZAPOTL FRUIT, VANILLA & HONEY

BALSAM & MUSK

tzapotl ("chocolate pudding fruit")

Translations: piloncillo is a cone-shaped sugar kind of like brown sugar; tzapotl fruit is the name for something also called "chocolate pudding fruit."

I'd say Euphorium Brooklyn satisfied their brief well. This is a definite dark chocolate scent through most of the development. Not sweet (though not as spicy as my drink). It's got some sweetness to it, a honeyed stickiness. Delightful. I'd say your top and heart notes are pretty much the same. Not much change there. 

About two hours in, though, when we're headed to dry-down, some of what I consider Brooklyn Euphorium's signature, quirkiness, kicks in. 

Balsam. 

This is odd. 

At first I started to get a bitter note. A green bitterness creeping in. I was put off, to be honest, as it was still lingering with the chocolate, but then as it started to truly swap itself for the heart notes and came into its own, I was won over. And mind you - this is all me sticking my nose in my wrist at several-minute intervals. Subsequent, less-attentive wearings skip the awkward teenage gangly phase because I'm not looking for it. 

The drydown-proper is balsam and musk and a little raunch, without which it just wouldn't be a Brooklyn Euphorium scent. Since I'm recently a balsam/fir ho, this pleases me. 

I find it interesting the choice to add Tolu Balsam, as it does keep this a little on the "odd" side. Tolu is a bit more medicinal and sharp than Peru Balsam, also used here. It's noticeable. As I said - quirky. 

I'd classify this as a comfort scent times ten.  I'm truly pleased with this scent. I may splurge and buy it.  

FRAGRANCE NOTES
Mexican Cocoa, Nutmeg, Clove, Cassia, Black Pepper, Myrrh, Coffee, Neroli, Davana, Raisin, Prune, Labdanum, Angelica Root, Honey, Vanilla, Caramel, Palm Sugar, Peru Balsam, Benzoin, Tolu Balsam, Castoreum, Musk

Unisex. Sillage: Skin scent to close-to-skin; wear: 5 hours-ish;  Pretty much chocolate, then balsam and musks. Available exclusively at Twisted Lily. Prices are niche-normal. 

To be released in December. 

Visit Brooklyn Euphorium @ euphoriumbrooklyn.com

Disclosure: sample provided by the house for review

Euphorium Brooklyn has the answer for dark mysterious perfume: Pétales

Do you remember back when edgy, dark, shadowy makeup artistry line Illamasqua released their fragrance, Freak? The one in the dark tilted bottle with the snail on the side? 

Illamasqua Freak
Freakily disappointing 

That's about as dark as we got there. To say I was disappointed was a huge understatement. Nice perfume, but not worthy of the Illamasqua reputation. 

I envisioned something haunting, yet pretty. Something a little dangerous, but seductive. It was good but I wanted more. More darkness. More edge. More mystery. More staggering beauty. More... MORE. 

I found it.

Euphorium Brooklyn's Pétales fits the bill in spades. 

I swear it starts with an innocent olfactory feint that smells like, I know I'm nuts, but--- well, I get rootbeer for a second. The fizz of grapefruit and florals must be to blame, as they mix with the spicy sweetness of star anise and pepper, the bite of galbanum, and the smoothness of honey. 

But that's just a little game, because this flirtatious scent turns quickly into a much more mature scent.

Spray Pétales to wrap yourself in a slightly mysterious perfume with naughty indoles, an armful of blossoms, and a deeply sexy base. Then watch out! 

Pétales , Brooklyn Euphorium. Available at TwistedLily.com

Family: Floriental. Firmly unisex. Projection is moderate, though you could amp this mother with extra sprays - if you dare. Length of wear is "hours and hours." Cost is in the moderately-expensive range, but snatch up a sample for only $4 and see if you agree: it's worth it. I smell rose and lily and crisp greens snapping over sparkling citrus. A river of honeyed spice flows beneath, before ending in a musky animalic heaves.

Notes: Rose, Lavender, Orchid, Hyacinth, Linden Blossom, Lily, Iris, Orange Blossom, Violet, Orris, Jasmine, Geranium, Palmarosa, Pettigrain sur la Fleurs, Galbanum, Green Stem, Moss, Pink Grapefruit, Fig, Honey, Star Anise, Elemi, Black Pepper, Vetiver, Labdanum, Benzoin, Tolu Balsam, Ambergris, Indole, Tonka Musk

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.

                                                    It was exactly like this...                                       via

Angel. Infamy! It's strong. Intense. Rich. Distinctive. Polarizing. Easily overdone.

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Each time this woman walked by she nearly choked me. You're reading the words - maybe even nodding in understanding. But I don't know you really get it. Let me flesh out this scene a bit more, make it more clear. When you stand in a cosmetics department for 8 hours, you lose all ability to discern scent. You no longer smell your own perfume, even snuffling your wrist. The wall of perfume, the women and men milling about in their own fragrances... It's immediate olfactory shut-down.

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...

                                                Not a fan.                              via

The list of notes shows the insanity: 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.

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.

House: Thierry Mugler
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.

Here's an Angel many of us can agree on!

[1] Got some free time? Peruse the Basenotes, Makeup Alley, and Fragrantica reviews of Angel. What a riot! Example: Fragrantica's ADAMbergris says "This is surely (Madam) Satan's signature scent..." Meanwhile, MUA's ipatieva says "...My friend tried it too and she smelled like a homeless person with wet dog." My favorite, though, is autumn89 on Basenotes: "It smells like diabetes would if it had a smell."



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: Le Mimosa (Annick Goutal)

Here's how I could do this whole review, were I succinct and a little more artsy...

Annick Goutal's new, limited edition Spring scent, Le Mimosa smells like this:

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The End.

*****************************

Sadly, Lucky for you, I'm not at all comfortable with verbal brevity. For your entertainment, a more wordy review follows.

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Le Mimosa is "a soliflore". To save you other Newbies some Google Time, I've done some legwork. A soliflore focuses on a single flower. There's a catch, though. In the words of the esteemable Angela of Now Smell This, a "soliflore is a perfumer's vision, an interpretation of the scent of a flower". ^[1]

In the much less eloquent words of yours truly, a soliflore is a flower or bloom as seen sniffed through the eyes nose of a perfumer. Some rose soliflores play up the honeyed nuances of the bloom, others the spice, while others include green stemmy aspects. It can be said that when it comes to perfumery a rose is a rose is a rose but all roses are not created equal... or something.

OK, so let's get back to Le Mimosa, shall we? It's (wait for it...) a mimosa soliflore.

I don't know too much about mimosa. I've heard of the drink, which is a one part champagne, one part orange juice cocktail. And we have invasive trees here in Virginia called "Mimosas" which look like the these:

silk trees aka  "junk trees"
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But I'm pretty sure they're also called "silk trees" and aren't what the Annick Goutal folk were referencing. I'm certain they were after the big golden fluffies in the other pictures - a harbinger of Spring to folks all over the world ^[2] and a cousin to the ones near my home ^[3].

What does the yellow fluffy mimosa smell like? I can't speak from personal experience, because even though I think the fernlike fronds and happy puffball blooms are pretty, around here silk trees are usually found along roads and lining ditches, earning the classification as  "junk trees" according to my husband. And they probably don't smell like the yellow ones, anyway. Sigh.

Smooth mango goodness.
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We already know putting words to scents is tricky business. What little I've been able to find describing the scent of mimosa tends to involve these words: sweet; slightly fruity; honey; mango; cucumber. ^[4]
By the way, can we all say "mango smoothie"? Um, yum!

I suppose what's important is what Camille Goutal and Isabelle Doyen think a mimosa smells like, since they created this perfume. Here's what they have to say:

^{Built around a mimosa absolute from Grasse, with sweet floral hues punctuated by soft green, Florentine iris and anise are added to enhance the flower's natural facets with their powdery strength. At the heart of the composition a peach, with sweet undertones of sun-drenched flesh, using its fruity curves as though to adorn the mimosa with unprecedented radiance. Then the white musk makes its entrance, draped over a light sandalwood frame, to carefully wrap the wake of this soft single flower perfume in a silky, milky and deliciously addictive blanket.}

What do I think it smells like? Heaven! To elaborate: a peachy honeyed musk. For you synesthetics: I don't picture yellow when I try to pin a color association on this perfume. Instead, I see the color of the flesh of a ripe mango. And there just may be a mango facet to this scent (just sayin').


While a soliflore, Le Mimosa is neither linear nor "one-note". It's as complex as any bloom, and shows several faces as the fragrance develops.


I do detect a slight flirtation with anise in the opening, and if you're an anise-phobe like myself please know that it's amazingly delightful here: soft, necessary, fleeting.

Is this a peach scent? No. While there is peach present, I'd say this perfume is peach-toned. Just as a peachy streak enhances a gorgeous sunset, but a sunset isn't only orange, so this perfume contains peach without being a peachy perfume. Sometimes I think I only make sense to myself, but what I'm getting at is the peachy tones enhance the scent without for even one millisecond resembling an artificial peach perfume.

Do I pick up the iris, though? Not really. Maybe a tad as the heart folds softly into the drydown. Speaking of the drydown, can we talk about how lovely a softly powdered & musky, vanilla'd sandalwood sounds?! Delish.

What happens when you Google "baby kitten peach"
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On me, the peach honey phase is not long enough, but lasts a good hour or two. The drydown is still perceptible on my skin eons later (like, the next morning). My dab-on sample doesn't have a lot of presence or sillage; not sure how spraying would change this, but I suspect it might. If I remember, once I buy my bottle(s) I'll update you.


If I were asked to describe the scent via nose picture, I'd be concocting some visual metaphor involving kittens and peaches and the soft smell of a baby's head. But that would be weird. Instead I'll do a word association: soft; cuddly; fresh; happy; yellow velvet; fluffy; comforting; delicious; soothing; Spring.

In case you're looking for me this Spring and early Summer, you'll find me climbing mimosa trees along the highway, pressing my nose into the fluffy blooms and wearing Annick Goutal's Le Mimosa - just so ya know.







Fragrance: Le Mimosa
House: Annick Goutal
Nose: Isabelle Doyen
Release: March 1, 2011 as a limited edition
Notes: Anise, Florentine iris, sun-drenched peach, white musks, sandalwood and mimosa
Sample: Annick Goutal website ~ I asked for a sample.

Final Word: Full bottle-worthy plus a backup.









[1] I was going to go through this whole "each artist paints a subject differently" thing, but since Now Smell This beat me to it, read the metaphor here. (warning: all links to other blogs may inspire lemmings).
[2] By "all over the world" I mean "lotsa places". I'm not interested in the specifics because research is difficult with my nose stuck to my wrist.
[3] Several sources I found vaguely state that there are over 400 species of mimosa.
[4] Loved this link which answers the question "what does mimosa smell like" with the answer saying, essentially, "I don't know, but probably good." Ah, the internet...

More reading on mimosa:
The Grumpy Gardener: Mimosa -- The Wonderful Awful Weed
Henry Holland's Six Scent Fragrance Smells Like...Sex
CASSIE ABSOLUTE (Mimosa Absolute)

Other Le Mimosa reviews:
Bois de Jasmin ~ Annick Goutal Le Mimosa : Fragrance Review 
1000 Fragrances ~ Mimosa (Annick Goutal) - new fragrance review
Perfume Shrine ~ Annick Goutal Mimosa: New Fragrance

Other mimosa-centric scents:
Aqua Allegoria Tiare Mimosa (Guerlain)
Calèche Fleurs de Méditerranée (Hermes)
Eau de Charlotte (Annick Goutal)
Farnesiana (Caron)
Mimosaique (Patricia de Nicolai)
Mimosa pour Moi (L'Artisan Parfumeur)
Mimosa (Czech & Speake)
Note: I'm sure there are more and I haven't smelled any of them, including the ones I listed. Share your favorite in the comments!

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