Showing posts with label moss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moss. Show all posts

A peek inside Jo Malone's garden on the first day of Spring! [PLEASE SEE FOOTNOTE FOR CLARIFICATION]

My own pictures from my yard.

Happy Spring!
It's finally here, groundhogs be damned. In fact, it's been Spring for a week already in Virginia, if you go by the weather and not the calendar. In my yard, the crocus blooms have already faded and fallen, the daffodils are wilting, and the tulips are pushing their way up to the front of the garden. The delicate blossoms of our plum tree have already dotted the lawn like snow, and the horrid Bradford Pears* are in bloom. Phlox creeps across the neighbor's yard, crawling with pink and purple petals, and forsythia waves cheerfully from its long, skinny stalks.

Like many perfumistas, I insist that I do not wear perfumes seasonally - I love them all and wear them when the mood strikes.

Lies!
Of course I wear perfumes seasonally. Just because I don't pack up the Winter ones and tuck the lot of them in a box in the back of the closet doesn't mean I wear my heavy oriental scents all year long. Let's get real: not every scent is meant for every season.

When the temperature starts to rise and the clothes start to lighten up, so do my perfumes. There's a brief window at this time of year where I start to become A Floral Girl. Straight-up, hardcore, all-flowers all of the time. That's right - Bad. Ass.

Or pretty. Actually, I like pretty flowers in the Spring.

Enter stage left: Ms. Jo Malone1.



Jo Malone1, she of the transparent, layerable scents has shown us pictures of her own garden. Olfactory pictures. And they're quite lovely!

I usually find Jo Malone's1 a bit too light and a little too temporary for my tastes. Hey, what can I say? I like power ambers and intense leathers and dirty, earthy skank. 

But the trio of gorgeous florals in London Blooms really got to me. I have been lucky enough to sample all three thanks to the wonderful generosity of my friend Adrienne of Best Things in Beauty.

The three - Iris & Lady Moore, White Lilac & Rhubarb, and Peony & Moss - are limited edition and they have the prettiest silk-screened bottles that just make me giggle.


Let's start with the one I was least interested in: Iris & Lady Moore.  I am not totally about the iris. It's a lovely flower - I would love a bed full of them! But the scent, at least in perfumes, doesn't rock my world. There are a few pretty iris perfumes, but I don't really feel a need to try them all and certainly don't need to own them all*.

But this one is pretty. Iris & Lady Moore was designed to be a play on ethereal iris and earthy geranium. The florals sit on a bed of cool, dry vetiver.

Iris & Lady Moore is an olfactory pressed white blouse. If I needed an office scent, I'd grab this one. It's also great for a bit of backbone -a spritz of liquid courage. I find a lot of iris scents to be bracing in that way. This perfume is an excellent choice for women who a) love iris, b) want a pretty but non-offensive scent, or c) want to smell clean but dislike the scent of clean musks.

Notes: tangerine, geranium, marigold, iris, orange blossom, sandalwood and vetiver. 

*Famous last words. Every time I say something like that, I end up eating my own words. Watch for an "I Love Iris" post soon. 


I think I have said before, my favorite Spring smell is lilac. I have a lovely lilac perfume made by Elizabeth W. I have sampled a few others (see some reviews here) and prefer En Passant above all others - there's just something about the yeasty note and the watery nuances that makes me smile. So, do I need another?

Well, maybe I do. Maybe White Lilac & Rhubarb is the prettiest, freshest lilac I have sampled in quite awhile. It's incredibly soft, ladylike, Spring-y, and pretty. It's even got a little hint of spice that makes it stand out just a bit from other lilac soliflores. That said, I don't really pick up rhubarb. More's the pity.

Notes: violet leaves, rhubarb, white lilac, rose, amber, musk, heliotrope.



 

So now it's time for my favorite. I think. Peony & White Moss.

It opens with a kick, which I love. It's a blast of berry, flowers, and greenness. Does it smell just like a peony? Well, not any peony I've smelled personally, but there's a peony-ness about it, if you get my meaning.

This scent keeps me coming back. I'm not 100% certain that's a good thing. I really can't pin down whether I'm drawn to it because it's beautiful or if I'm drawn to it because something is "off". Or maybe something is beautifully off?

Peony &  White Moss is Spring-y. It's pretty. It's maybe just the slightest bit tart. The moss is familiar - not oakmoss, please understand. It's very similar to the moss in Estee Lauder's Jasmine and White Moss, which I do enjoy.

So, I really, really can't tell if I like this one or not. But the result is I'm draining this juice at an alarming rate - and from Jo Malone's1 perspective, isn't that the point?

Notes: green sap, blackcurrant, jasmine, peony, rose, ivy, moss.


End the verdict, people, is this: these are pretty. Are they groundbreaking? No. Are they lovely additions to a perfume cabinet? Yes, especially if you're in need of pretty florals. And keep an eye on that iris one! ;)




1 Wow. I was finally noticed by Estee Lauder PR!! Sadly, it was to ask me to please clarify that "Jo Malone" is a person and she is no longer related to her former brand, which is "Jo Malone London". Basically, we all know that, but I must clarify anyway, lest you become confused.

And I guess this is where I point out that when I cheekily refer to "Jo Malone's Garden" it's not really Jo Malone's garden (duh!), it's some PR desk in a corporate office building and Jo Malone wasn't there. When I say "enter stage left: Jo Malone" she's not really there, just a figment of my imagination. When I say "she of the transparent, layerable..." it's just me babbling and I'm just trying to confuse you. Also, I will point out that when I say "I usually find Jo Malone's too light and temporary" I mean I find Jo Malone London's scents too light and temporary and I have no opinion at all on the weight or longevity of Jo Malone, the woman.

So, please re-read this whole article and mentally remind yourself that the real-life woman Jo Malone had nothing to do with these scents or my review and then, going forward, make sure you refer to the line as "Jo Malone London" - and everyone you know will give you a raised eyebrow because no one calls the line that. Except Estee Lauder. 

Going green!!!! Vert pour Madame (Dawn Spencer Hurwitz: Parfums des Beaux Arts

I won a dram bottle of DSH's newest (limited edition) scent Vert pour Madame. It's green. It's a chypre. It's stunningly gorgeous!

Galbanum opens the show but hyacinth steps in too. The rest of the florals are, to my nose, well-blended to the point that I can't distinguish each note. Not that I'm trying yet; I'm still enjoying our introduction.

Lower and later: sandalwood, moss. Fresh, earthy and natural. Surprise late-game players are musk and civet which add a lovely nuance to the drydown. This earthy muskiness brings Vert pour Madame into my skin, melting.
 
Vert pour Madame is as striking as most green chypres I've tried, but she's a bit more sexy. Her galbanum is never shrill or pushy, even when at it's peak. Nor is it icy, bitter, or terribly grassy.

This madame may have started the night in an elegant and formal LBD, but by the end of the evening she's shaken out her chignon, ditched the heels, and slipped into something a little more comfortable. She's a natural beauty made all the more gorgeous by being oblivious to her own power.


Inspired by the utterly chic and sophisticated style of the late 1970's and early 1980's classic green floral chypre, Vert pour Madame has power but more than that, she has depth. She's achieved it. As well, Vert pour Madame is the perfect harbinger of Spring with notes of hyacinth, jonquil and lily of the valley sewn into the earth with cedarwood, patchouli and moss.

Are you a fan of green chypres? DSH? I am (of both) so this prize has made me a happy girl. Which are your favorite chypres? Green scents? DSH scents? What would you like to see next from DSH?
  

PS: A special thank you to DSH, not only for the contest and great perfume, but also for the sweet handwritten card, a few samples, and the replacement sample of The Afternoon (definitely getting a bigger size of this sweet, happy, casual floral with the amazing mimosa note!).

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!

via


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
via


[1] Apparently a common theme in Smith's works was death, so what do I know?

my little lilac, doing its thing

early daffodils

  
Header image via; all others are mine unless noted otherwise.