We could be heroes...just for one day.

I am always neglecting this blog. I have an entire box of beautiful samples waiting to be reviewed, but real life always seems to get in the way. For instance, it took me over a week to finally get my last final done after we got snowed in here in Portland during the Snowpocalypse of 2008. During this period there were at times as many as eight people hanging around my house, needing food and company and, I, ever the hostess, wanted to provide.
I have not, as yet, received all my gifts, but I think the chances of fragrance being among them is low, despite it being on my list. I had asked for any of the following:

1. Costume National 21
2. Domenico Caraceni Ivy League
3. Kai
4. L'Artisan Ananas Fizz
5. CB I Hate Perfume Burning Leaves
6. CB I Hate Perfume To See a Flower
7. CB I Hate Perfume Tea Rose
8. CB I Hate Perfume At The Beach 1966
9. CB I Hate Perfume Wild Hunt

I am saddest about not getting the 21, though At The Beach 1966 or Kai would have added more depth to my collection.
Which brings me the big question: in this, my maiden year as a perfumista, which perfume rocked my world with the most regularity? 
S-Perfume's 100% Love

This is totally unexpected by me because I really thought it with would be L'Artisan's Dzing! Dzing! is so unique, bold, and dangerous as a scent because who knows if people will like it or think it's awful. I mean, there's even a little bit of a burning rubber note in there, but I love it.

100% Love, on the other hand, is everything you expect to like in a perfume. It's soft, unassuming, and combines two things lots of people like -- the smell of baking chocolate and the light smell of roses -- into what has got to be the ultimate ad for Valentine's Day advertisers. And yet. And yet...here I find myself shamelessly loving it, too, because it deserves all five stars that Lucia and Tania gave it. It's subtle and sweet and deliciously delicate. I found myself wearing it, over and over, on days when I wanted to feel pretty. (As opposed to Dzing! which I tend toward when I'm feeling a lack of confidence.) So 100% Love gave what I needed when I needed it, which it turned out was fairly frequently this year.
I am so curious to see what comes of next year.

Image courtesy of The Scented Salamander.

Fall Flu

I haven't posted in a while, I know. I got the flu, which turned into bronchitis, which turned into pneumonia, which means my sniffer has been off for about three and a half weeks.

Now that I can smell again, more reviews soon.

Scent of the Day: Lady Vengeance.

Two days later, still floating...

I have no review, but in honor of Michelle and her GAP dresses, today I am wearing Gap So Pink! my trashy girly pink grapefruit scent.
Thanks to Slate.com for all the wonderful Obama-related political toons!

Election Day Jitters!

On this historic occasion, where we will inevitably elect either a minority president (GO OBAMA!) or a minority VP, getting dressed was easy. I picked clothes in the traditional reds, whites, and blues and a progressive style -- black knit skirt, black hose, blue docs, blue jean jacket covered in liberal pins, and my Obama'08 tee shirt.

But I had a terrifically hard time choosing a scent. Do I go cutting edge and revolutionary? Do I go staid and traditional? Classic French foreign? Homegrown American? Old traditional perfume house or new, young, net-sales based independent perfumer?

I considered a lot of options. CB's Memory of Fire, in honor of the rockets red glare and all the burning pages of history and the burning desire for change we have today. CB's Black March , because it's cold and wet and rainy here in Oregon where we march to our boxes to drop off ballots in an effort to change a country. S-Perfumes 100% Love because no matter who you vote for today, voting means you love this country and you believe in the way it works and you are engaged in the act of patriotism, which is its own special kind of love. And many other options...

In the end, though, I went with Chanel No. 5 EDT. Classic. Traditional. Purchased after I sampled it in a duty-free in the Sea-Tac airport on my way to Philadelphia to campaign for yet another equally historic candidate in the primary. French, yes, but hey -- they love a good revolution as much as the next gal. High-quality. Because the choice I made today, I hope, will be a radical choice in how normal, how mainstream, how overwhelmingly populous it turns out to be. That we have the opportunity to confound external critics and embrace ourselves -- in all our diversity -- is something that I hope can become the artful choice. The classic choice. In a country founded by radicals and malcontents and rejects, may our election of a man who blends so many different aspects of ourselves and who ran under a banner of change become the stuff of our normative fabric, for surely it already is.

Thinking Perfume

Part of the difficulty of loving the bottles I have is that it seriously slows down my sampling. Yesterday, I wore CB I Hate Perfume’s Smokey Tobacco Accord, which fit my desire to smell warm and smoky on a clear cool fall day. The day before that, I wore S-Perfume 100% Love, during which I noodled around my house before going to the hipster-est joint in town for dinner with some friends. Today, I ran straight for another CB creation, Black March, in honor of the rainy misty foggy morning I awoke to.

And this is my problem. I have a lot of samples, many I have not yet reviewed here. But I have many lovely bottles, and when I am in a hurry, I reach for them first. I even carry samples around with me, but I love what I am wearing so much, I am frequently loathed to sample over it.

Weak as it is, that is part of my excuse for being behind on my blog. I am trying to push myself toward my samples and away from resting on my bottled laurels. Hopefully I’ll be posting a couple of new reviews this weekend. Until then, dear readers, have faith that while I may not be writing about perfume, I am thinking perfume.

The warmth of your love is like the warmth of the sun...

So! Work has been having me for lunch. Between my full class load and my 25-30 hours a week (that is really only supposed to be 20) at the D.A.'s office, I am, in a word, overwhelmed. Plus there has been an intense amount of family drama lately, which does not help my stress levels. Plus there's the election...the economy...my pending exams... It just never seems to end.

I've been sampling, though, and while these deserve full length reviews, I just want to say Kai = good, Tauer Perfumes L'air du Desert Marocain = WOW!, and I apparently won the drawing for the Perfume Posse Top 25 of 2008, which is about the only thing good to happen to me in a couple of weeks. Which is truly awesome. Really and truly. And I promise to get on top of my reviews again, as soon as my ethics midterm is out of the way next Tuesday.

While I'm here, though, I just wanted to say that living in the PNW, there is a fragrance I have latched onto for fall I never expected: CB I Hate Perfume's Black March.

Black March, from Christopher Brosius's collection, was inspired by a poem by Stevie Smith of the same name. CB says the following of Black March:

A fresh clean scent composed of Rain Drops, Leaf Buds, Wet Twigs, Tree Sap, Bark, Mossy Earth and the faintest hint of Spring Flower Bulbs as pretty and bright as rain drops on black twigs in March.

The description is pretty dead on. It's wet and wild and earthy, like the PNW in fall and winter.  There is a great green wildness to Black March, which I find so oddly comforting, like someone bottled the Green Man himself. At a time when I expected to be reaching for intense incenses and orientals, here I am reveling in this rich dirty-ness. The only thing that I don't get as much is the "spring flower bulbs," which I smell more in CB's Wild Hunt than in Black March. Instead I just get this subtle sweetness in the dry down, which reminds me more of a sweet sweat smell than a flower. Like the sweet smell of a baby, mingling with the sweet smell of earth in bloom after rain. This scent, which so uniquely captures life, has turned out to be a welcome counterpart to the natural cycle of death and decay around me. So compelling...so hopeful.

And with the economy in a shambles and dire news all around, both personal and external, maybe hope is exactly what we need right now. 4 of 5 nods.

And I won't forget the way you held me up
when I was down
And I won't forget the way you said,
"Darling, I love you,"
You gave me faith to go on.

The warmth of your love
is like the warmth of the sun.
And this could be our year;
took a long time to come.

~The Zombies

To buy Black March for its very reasonable price of $75 for 100ml, you can get it straight from CB or from Lucky Scent. For additional reviews, see Perfume-Smellin' Things' review.

Fall Scent Exploration: CB's Gathering Apples

The cool breeze sweeping through my window means fall is coming. Fall is my favorite season. I love the changing leaves, their colors and the way they crunch underfoot. I love the smells, the burning wood in stoves, the ripening of fall fruits, the musk of wet wool sweaters, slightly mothball-y or cedar-chipped and newly aired from storage.

This fall brings a new challenge. As a newly minted perfumista, this is my first fall, which means my first attempts at finding fall scents of my own. This is an exciting opportunity for exploration, and one I look forward to.

I am launching my fall exploration, appropriately I think, with CB I Hate Perfume's Gathering Apples. The CB line belongs to New York-based perfumer Christopher Brosius, who espouses a hatred for traditional perfume, and this has come up with a line of scents aimed at mimicking good smells that might not traditionally be made into perfume. Gathering Apples is described as

Does the smell of apples make you happy? It should, as studies show. I used to love to go with my father to pick up the apples from the local orchard. I can still recall the scent of hundreds of bushels of ripe red apples glowing in the cold room.
Even now the memory makes me smile.

Thousands of Ripe Red Mackintosh Apples and a bit of old weathered wood from the bushel baskets.

And when you smell it, you know what it smells like? Apples. This is just what it says it is. It does not smell like a chemically cobbled facsimile of apples, it smells like apples. Like the juice that runs down your chin after biting into a first fall harvest apple. It's not sweet like the refined sugar of an apple strudel, but sweet like fresh fruit, like nature. CB captures the smell perfectly, which is applause worthy because it is as authentic an apple as you will find on any bottle—quite a feat given how frequently it is attempted. That said, by itself, Gathering Apples makes a better room spray (which it comes in) than a wearable scent.

Not be dissuaded, however, I tried layering it with CB's Smokey Tobacco Accord. On me, it wears beautifully as long as I am careful not to wear too much of the smoke, which will overpower the apples. Which was nice, but not enough to invest in Gathering Apples as something I’d wear a lot. It’s the best on the market for what it does, but smelling like apples, in the end, is not what I guess I prefer to smell like.

If Gathering Apples is your style, you can buy it directly from CB on his site.
Images from Photobucket.

Sweetness Follows: 100% Love.

It would be a lie to say that I never had good experiences with family. While our relationships were, at best, complicated and difficult, and, at worst, violent and cruel, there were things and times and people that I loved and love still. It’s the kind of love forged from common experiences and common roots and the formation of some fundamental building blocks of identity, not from common goals or values. It’s the family/personhood of origin, not the family/personhood of creation or choice, held in common with those people who, for whatever reason, you share blood and history with.

In that same vein, I’ve realized how great 100% Love is. Like the idea of going home, it took a while for 100% Love by S-Perfumes to grow on me. The Guide saddles it with the handle of “chocolate rose.” Created by Sophia Grojsman, 100% Love is described as

The pulpy erotic part of a secret red fruit, the rich, deep and velvety skin of a dark natural rose by L.M.R., a ray of green sap from the rose's thorn, a mystical "concoction" of incense and black cacao.

My love (no pun intended) for 100% Love is, in part, a reflection on the improvement of my nose. When I first sniffed it, about six months ago, I did not love it. Too light, too airy, too thin, too simple. Nope. Not for me. But, like a good little level one perfumista in training, I took the advice of those with vastly more developed sniffers than mine. I set it aside to try again later. About a month ago, I bought a small spray sample to try it again (the first came in a 1.5ml tube sampler, and the sprayer with this one really did make all the difference), and all of the sudden, I saw its genius. 100% Love was a light, sweet and liquored cloud hanging around me, like single barrel whiskey or really good rum mixed with sweet cola and grenadine. One of the more pleasurable memories I have from my childhood is that when my father would drag my brother and I around to the extra jobs he worked at a group of 610-Loop Houston hotels, he would lead us into the bar and ply us with all the Roy Rogers we could drink, complete with red plastic swords stacked with cherries. When I smell 100% Love, it smells like those drinks.

100% Love also reminds me of the boxes of cherry cordials my father bought every year at holidays. While there was always the inevitable Whitman Sampler for Christmas, and my mother received a giant heart-shaped box of chocolates every Valentines, the cheap cherry cordials picked up at the local drugstore meant a good mood, a happy time to be shared. And when I spray on 100% Love, I feel a lost sort of love, the love that comes from having had certain shared wins and loses, shared joys and sorrows, shared anger and resentment and regret…and the naivete of youth and its inability of processing the complex emotions that come with family at the time. Nostalgic and sweet, with a tiny sour note or dark mark inevitable on the horizon. Like a little girl in a bar with her drunken father, blissfully unaware of the alcoholism that will eventually kill him, slurping down Roy Rogers with lots of cherries. Like the soft and fluttery feeling of rose petals from the bush my grandmother’s backyard brushed across skin, rose bushes that would one day later, unforeseeably and inexplicably, cease to bloom again. A little drunk…a little sad…on chocolate and roses and an unshakable love that lies so deep inside you that you can run from it, but never escape.

Readying to bury your father and your mother,
what did you think when you lost another?
I used to wonder why did you bother,
distanced from one, blind to the other.

Live your life filled with joy and wonder.
I always knew this altogether thunder
was lost in our little lives.

Oh..., oh..., but sweetness follows.

Another perspective can be found in Robin’s review over at Now Smell This! Also, special shout out to Angela, who gifted me with a totally undeserved bottle of 100% Love. It made my week.

Drink image courtesy of instructables.com.
Cordials from Sanders Candy.

A Summer of Irises: Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist

Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist is described simply as

Wooded and powdery iris, gracefully.

Now Smell This! has the notes for Iris Silver Mist as “iris pallida root, galbanum, cedar, sandalwood, clove, vetiver, musk, benzoin, incense, and white amber.”

Lots of reviewers have commented on the quirky way that Iris Silver Mist goes on. It isn’t plasticy sweet like a lip-balmed teen kiss like Infusion d’Iris and it sure isn’t the mournful one note, straight tone lament that I love about Iris Pallida. The word I have settled on, after trying it four or five times, is one that lots of other reviews have seized on: weird.

Iris Silver Mist is weird. It’s original. It’s unique, quirky, and really speaks to the ability of perfume to be a one of a kind, you really will never smell anything like it, a work of art. It’s so spicy on me; I pick up on the clove and incense right away. One of the weird things about it as how green it seems, how alive. This is Iris the Living Organism, not Iris the Flirt or Iris the Lonely Soul. It feels like a breathing creature that is traveling on and around you, not something you happen to wear. Iris Silver Mist is not something that enhances you, it’s something you experience. On me in the dry down, it floats just above my skin, lightening up quite a bit as the sandlewood bleeds in. But it lives on, along with you, and it lasts and lasts. I was surprised at how clingy it became on me after such a strong start, like a herky-jerky romance.

On the whole, nice, and certainly worth experiencing, which thanks to samples available over at The Perfumed Court, you can do. Which is good, because Iris Silver Mist is on the SL “exclusives” list and can only be found at Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris, where 75ml goes for €100.00. SL will not ship exclusives outside of Europe, so unless you've got a nice friend in Europe, it will be tough to find otherwise.

A review from Bois de Jasmin, Robin’s review over at Now Smell This!, and yet another review over at Perfume Smellin’ Things.

Photo from Flickr.

Everybody Else is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?

Hello, dear reader. My name is Diana, I am a budding sniffa, and I have a problem.

In my early twenties there was a young man I hit it off with and went out with exactly four times. At the end of each outing, I’d think, “Why did I go out with him *again*? He’s nice, and he’s lovely to look out, and what a wonderful kisser, but we just don’t click!” Yet the next time he’d call, and I still wasn’t seeing anyone else seriously, I’d go again. Each time I’d think, “I’m sure if I just spend a little more time with him, we’re going to figure out why we are attracted to each other.” But we never did. And it wasn’t that we ever had a bad time so much as that we just never had a very good time that made it seem so dissatisfying, but even that dissatisfaction was tempered by our failure to connect. I could never get too worked up about him, one way or another.

Some scents are like that. There are fragrances I love from the moment I sniff them. Beautiful, rich, and dark. Light, clean and angular. Something in between, I just love them. It’s the olfactory equivalent of looking across a crowded room and falling, instantly, in love. Then there are perfumes I smell and I think, “Not if you paid me to smell like this would I wear it.” I am smart enough to know how much of love is about taste to try not to be overcritical of what is probably someone else’s love (though I am still overly harsh too frequently), but there are potential lovers you just know instantly are not for you, and sometimes those come in a pretty package and are adored by plenty of others.

No, my problem is that fragrance first date that goes well, but not well enough. I splash it on my skin and think, “Well, you’re sort of nice. Let’s see how it goes.” But then it just stays there. In cases where the fragrance is particularly well-liked or even lauded by more mature noses, I find myself feeling frustrated, mostly with myself. I wonder, “Everyone else sees how wonderful this is – why don’t I?” Yet, I just don’t. And I want to. Like that young man from years ago, I just keep saying yes because I cannot get why I seem to be the only one who cannot get into it.

I’ve been told by my personal Obi Wan Kenbo of perfumistas to just sit such perfumes aside and wait. In six months or a year, as my nose develops, she assures, I might feel differently. And perhaps that’s true.

The fragrance I am struggling with at the moment is L’Artisan’s Mûre et Musc. Mûre et Musc, released in 1978, is described as follows on Lucky Scent:

Fresh, lovely and a bit naughty. This groundbreaking blend of wild blackberries and clean musk has become a L’artisan classic. Since its creation in 1978, the enchanting fragrance of “Mûre et Musc” has never ceased to cast its spell. Those who have chosen it are so attached and faithful to its scent that it has remained one of L’Artisan Parfumeur’s all-time greats. Some, bemused by its powerful charm, have tried to imitate it, but none have succeeded. Elegant, playful, sexy.

Mûre et Musc notes: wild blackberry, musk, citrus.

Mûre et Musc is a lovely scent. Light, sweet, flowery…like a scent one catches on a breeze in a beautiful English garden. I imagine small children with ribbons flowing behind running across manicured lawns with lush flowers beds on warm summer days, fingers sticky and mouths stained purple with blackberries. I see those little girls crowned with laurels made of flowers on green woody stems. There is something innocent about it, which is beautiful. But it’s also so very…nice. Picturesque. Like a blushing eighteen year-old virgin getting her prom corsage. Like full-bottomed white panties edged in lacey ruffles.

And perhaps therein lies the problem. I’m not sweet. I'm not innocent. I’m not nice. I tend toward scents that are dirty or skanky or wild or cruel because I’m a lot of things but I’ve just never been very nice. So while I like Mûre et Musc a lot, and I think it is brilliant at what it does, I just don’t see us going anywhere.

Which is kind of too bad. I’m sure there is a part of me who would really like to be nice. That part just does not seem to earn more than a few moments of consideration, flirting with what might be, before the reality of what is settles in.

For other reviews, see Bois de Jasmin's review.

Photo from Flickr.

A Summer of Irises: Prada Infusion d’Iris

For several weeks I've been swapping back and forth between three irises. The first, L'Artisan's Iris Pallida, I wrote about almost a month ago now. (Sidebar: Work has kept me so busy!) The second, and far more readily available, is Prada's Infusion d’Iris.

Prada describes Infusion d’Iris as follows:

As elusive and unique as the precious ingredient from which it takes its name, Infusion d’Iris fuses tradition with idealism, heritage moulded to modernity, classicism reinterpreted through originality.

Infusion d’Iris is like a dream, an Italian voyage, an ambiance, the smell of soap, the clean scent of crisp linen sheets, and naked skin. It combines classic, exceptional quality ingredients from Italy such as the Iris Pallida from Florence and the warm top note glow of Sicilian mandarin. It expresses itself through its contrast between a great freshness and apparent lightness and a type of tender veil, sensual, and strong, that envelops the body and the clothing of the woman who wears the fragrance.

Infusion d’Iris evokes an ultra feminine experience set within a world of luxury and Possibility—quintessential Prada universe.

The notes of Prada Infusion d’Iris include mandarin, orange blossom, galbanum, iris, incense, benzoin, cedar, lentisc and vetiver. The Eau de Parfum can be found at Neiman Marcus.

On me, Infusion d’Iris begins with a little bit of a back of the throat twinge, but one different from Iris Pallida. This is a tickle, as if, upon thrusting one's face into a bouquet of irises, one breathed in a little pollen and suddenly found themselves powdered as well. It is a tiny bit peppery, rooty, and even a little waxy.

On dry down, this saucy number softens a bit on me to about half its original umph. Still a little spiced, it becomes less rooty and earthy, and more sweet. It reminds me a little of the taste of candied ginger or spiced candied nuts.

Infusion d’Iris is not the indulgent, tragic super-sophisticate that is Iris Pallida, but that does not seem to matter. This effort is so entirely different it almost seems a different flower, related but nonetheless singular. To me, it is like the difference between the bored way a young woman, full of life and ignorant of her own mortality, mentally drifts away to more pleasant pursuits at a Spring funeral, while the elder widow looks at her spouse and finds herself rooted to the receding vistas of her own invincible youth. Where Iris Pallida demands gravitas, Infusion d’Iris is vivacious and lively. Certainly, everyone has room in life for both kinds of moments.

But don't take my word for it -- here's Robin's review from Now Smell This! and a review from Bois de Jasmin. Prada Infusion d’Iris is available at Neiman Marcus and also from discounters (I'd check the discounters first).

A Summer of Irises: Iris Pallida is Llorando

L’Artisan Iris Pallida is an expensive but incredible fragrance.

According to Now Smell This,

Iris Pallida is based on Tuscan Iris, the symbol of Florence. The notes include lily of the valley, orange blossom, Turkish rose, anise, violet leaves, cedar, vetiver, iris absolute, ambrette seed, white musk, gaïac wood and patchouli.

I love Iris Pallida. I know it’s expensive. Really more expensive than it has any right to be, honestly. But at the same time, it moves me. Some scents are like that. When you smell them, they move you emotionally. To me, Iris Pallida is the saddest perfume in the world, and each and every time I smell it I have the sensation of a sob catching in the back of my throat.

It’s a beautiful iris, pure and strong. It's not rooty like some irises, or particularly flowery and sweet like others. It’s not a complex smell; it holds more or less the same scent on me for hours. There’s little change for initial application through dry down, though it does soften over time. To me, this softening completes the conveyance of the emotional moment, as though you are suddenly moved to tears by something, and then you feel a release as you give in and begin to cry after holding it back as long as you can. In fact, this video, this moment of music in film, is precisely how smelling Iris Pallida makes me feel:



What's more, Iris Pallida is a limited edition. So even though it is the most expensive perfume I can ever imagine myself buying, I might just do it. I've smelled quite a few irises now, but only this one is actually emotion in a bottle.

Video from David Lynch's film "Mulholland Drive."

They twist, and I'll twist...

So, David and I have returned from the great dramarama of Disney reunion 2008. Sufficed to say, there are quite a few things I'd have undone about the weekend, not the least of which was getting unbelievably sick. My ears, nose, and throat are a-ringy-dingy-dinging, making it impossible to enjoy one of the good things about the trip: there is a GIANT Sephora in downtown Disney.

Let me make this plain -- Portland is no backwater. Certainly there are Sephora stores here, but none that I live near. Going to Sephora in Portland requires a half hour pilgrimage each way, and I tend to work in the opposite direction. So walking past a giant Sephora 2-3x a day on vacation is bound to test the will of any devoted sniffa. I held out until the last day, but have since returned with...bottle number 13.

Chanel's Coco Mademoiselle is lovely. According to Chanel, the notes are:

Top Notes: Orange, Bergamot, Grapefruit.
Middle Notes: Litchi, Rose, Italian Jasmine.
Base Notes: Indonesian Patchouli, Haitian Vetiver, Bourbon Vanilla, White Musk.

Now I admit that my nose has been a little off, but on me it reads as a light, lemon cirtusy scent, perfect for the blaring heat I was experiencing in June in L.A. There five days and without a cloud in the sky, most of the stuff I took with me was not cutting it. It all seemed too rich, too heavy, too warm, too much. I did sport Annick Goutal's Songes, which always makes me think of the beach, and Red Flower's Guaiac, but neither were wearing as well as I would have liked given the amount of direct heat and perspiring I was doing whilst I stood in line for my fourth go at Space Mountain. (As my friend Kate pointed out, it's amazing what you can do with the advanced technology of disco balls.) Coco Mademoiselle was light enough, not too sweet, and flowery without being powdery, thus meeting the challenge.

Post-purchase, I discovered that Emma Watson has signed a two-year deal to front Mademoiselle. Personally, I think this is an improvement over Keira Knightly. I am amused to think I now own Hermione Granger’s perfume!

Lastly, I have to say, I think perfume may be the best souvenir I could have opted for. My olfactory memory is, like most people’s, very strong, and now when I catch a whiff of Mademoiselle, I immediately have a little déjà vu experience that warm California sun. This fortuitous discovery may encourage more holiday perfume shopping on future adventures. Why buy $30-40 of t-shirts, key rings, pint glasses, and other bric-a-brac when you can have the joy of juice and all its attendant memories?

"Well the girls are frisky in old ‘Frisco
A pretty little chick wherever you go
A-a-and they'll walk and I'll walk...
Well they're out there a'havin' fun
In that warm California sun."

It might be unbelievable...but don't get me wrong.

I counted today. In three months, I have acquired:

85 samples, 12 bottles, 2 books, and a startling love for perfume. And a little bit of debt, if I'm honest.

I cannot imagine myself winging away to Sniffa until I have a real job and am finished with school/the bar/getting settled into a new place, but I would say that I am deep in the throes of a developing perfume habit. It haunts me in the night. "More juice!" a voice whispers in my ear. "Must have more juice!"

I have also realized that I have very different sampling habits than the grand dames of net.perfumista-ing. I tend not to sample more than one thing at a time unless I'm comparing things within the same scent 'family' (which mostly exist in my head, but consist of trying two or three roses or irises side by side until I figure out which one I will actually buy). I tend to sample something across an entire day, usually giving it an afternoon reapply as I would anything else. Unless I have multiple events of *very* different sorts on the same day, I tend to stick with one thing throughout, though I might try something else at night as I sleep. I will drive home at lunch if I forget to scent in the morning. It has gotten so bad I have samples stashed in my desk at work -- at all three jobs!

And lastly, but perhaps most important to me, is that I wear the things I have bottles of. Not all the time. Not as a signature scent. But more often than I sample. I think I sample three days a week and wear somerthing I genuinely like the other four. And my comfort scent, the scent I really go to when I feel nervous or scared, is L'Artisan Dzing! Not exactly uncomplicated, but in sync with me on those days when I feel nervous or intimidated by life. I smell it on myself throughout the day, and it makes me smile, and then I feel better. Like hearing a favorite song or walking down the street wearing headphones. It's like a secret language you speak only to yourself.

I think tomorrow is going to be a Chanel day. I finally received my bottle of Chanel No. 5 EDT. It is my first "classic" acquisition. If I don't wake up with a case of the Mondays, I will probably try it out with my aqua button down. If, however, tomorrow morning comes as fast as my currently tired bones anticipated, I think I will need something *far* crankier...maybe CB's Memory of Fire or INeKE's Derring-do? It would go well with my cranky morning blouse. On bad days at work, sometimes I calculate how many samples I can get for an hour of work. If I tell myself "every 12 minutes is another new olfactory adventure" sometimes those long afternoons aren't so bad.

Don't get me wrong,
ff I come and go like fashion.
I might be great tomorrow
but hopeless yesterday...
Don't get me wrong.

You know I used to be a bad girl....

A few weeks ago Kate & I saw Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, which I loved. Smart dialog, historically interesting, and the lovely Amy Adams.

Since then, I have been thinking about how much I enjoy Amy Adams. I first saw her a few years ago in Junebug, where she managed to be lovable in a pitiable story, hopeful and upbeat in the face of genuine tragedy. I saw the film by myself, sitting in the Vancouver theatre one night when I really needed a break from my university job, and I was just overwhelmed. Here was a story about the inability of one woman to communicate or appreciate across lines of class and education, who was made that much more deplorable by the naive, sweet, undereducated and overly optimistic girl who comes to worship her. Amy Adams plays a lovely young thing trapped by circumstance, who refuses to think of herself or her life as unhappy even as she acknowledges via perverse fascination that there is more to the world than the tiny torn corner of the page she gets to live it in.

In Pettigrew she almost plays a different version of that girl, one who passes up marriage and a baby to escape, but in doing so seems to lose her center of gravity. In this case, she is aided by the older, more experienced and slightly jaded Pettigrew (played admirably by Frances McDormand), and once again seems to have figured out at the end what is important to her, even if it would be lesser than by other's standards.

How many of us live lives that loved ones or passersby might think hold unacceptable sacrifices or resignations? We all fight battles, but we chose, for ourselves, which ones are worth demanding a win in and which disappointments are the ones we can live with. Sometimes I think part of growing up is realizing that everyone makes concessions, and no one can predict or judge -- not even one's younger self -- what those might be. I never thought I would be happy sacrificing some of the things I have, but by and large I do not miss them. At the same time, I am surprised by the things that I find missing, the things that bother me more than a younger me could have ever anticipated -- particularly, the lack of connection to blood family. I'd love to, as Julia Roberts said so poignantly in Steel Magnolias, "sit on a porch, covered in grandchildren, yelling 'No!' and 'Stop that!'" But neither Shelby nor I seem to be headed for such a fate. At the same time, I don't see myself being sad about a footloose and fancy free life of travel and adventure.

At the same time, I do not regret my choices. But on occasion,I find them worth reflecting on because they have lead me places I never expected. For the type-A obsessive planner I am, I continue to find that part of life pleasantly surprising.

I used to love to do the things they tell me not to do,
but now I'm different--now I sing a new song.
~ Everclear, "Volvo Driving Soccer Mom"

Wearing nail polish remover, by choice?

Given my limited time and my copious amount of samples, I am starting to end up with a back log of review notes. Thus I am going to start doing some short reviews, but I'll reserve the better, interesting, or more difficult fragrances for longer multiple wear exploration. Also, I'll be honest, when I hate it, I don't want to write about it a length.

So now, for the...well...unfortunate results. Today I'm reviewing Lanvin's Rumeur, and its flanker, Rumeur 2 Rose. Here's what Lanvin has to say for themselves:

Lanvin Rumeur EDP: A refined fragrance that is irresistibly attractive, sexy and elegant. Mysterious and enigmatic, Rumeur is a contemporary classic floral housed in a bottle inspired by the traditional Arpege flacon. Top notes: Magnolia; Middle notes: Seringa, white rose, sambac jasmine; Base notes: Patchouli, musk.

Lanvin Rumeur 2 Rose EDP: A sexy, refined fragrance that is irresistibly attractive, feminine and elegant. Mysterious and enigmatic, Rumeur 2 rose is a contemporary classic floral housed in a bottle inspired by the traditional Arpege falcon. Notes of Magnolia, Seringa, White Rose, Sambac Jasmine.

Lanvin Rumeur EDP - Yick! Nail polish remover fighting with a fruity bubble gum smell. Less candy, more cleaner.

Lanvin Rumeur 2 Rose EDP - Smells like cherry koolaid and fruity bubble gum. I love roses and there is NOTHING rose about it. Like someone was trying to make perfume and accidentally dumped some cleaner in it.

Hiatus endeth!

Sorry for the break, dear readers. I am now finished with my 2L finals and will resume my fragrance love documentation.

Generally, I tend to love heavy, dark, rich, strong fragrances, but now that things are getting warm (like 96 degrees with no air conditioning warm), sporting these fragrances seems so...stuffy. So I am now engaging in a search for lovely light summer scents. Whilst I and my credit cards embark on that create experiment, I offer up my "So Far 2008" list, the list of fragrances I've acquired thus far this year:

First Quarter

1. Annick Goutal Songes (x2 - great deal!)
2. CK Euphoria (Yick! What a mistake that was!)
3. Gap So Pink! (I have no excuses for my fondness)
4. L'Artisan Dzing!
5. Lorenzo Villoresi Alamut
6. Origins Ginger With a Twist

Second Quarter

1. CB I Hate Perfume Smokey Tabacco Accord
2. Chanel No. 5 EDT
3. DK Black Cashmere
4. Juliette Has a Gun Lady Vengeance
5. Origins Ginger with a Twist (2nd bottle b/c now discontinued)
6. Red Flower organic Guaiac

This is not counting decants, samples, etc. Just full bottled purchases... Wow. More engaged than certainly I would have ever expected given that I accidented my way into this via wanting to buy myself a gift of perfume for my 30th birthday (just this past Spring). And, of course, I still have a long list of more scents I love/want!

Review: Solange Cosmic

Solange Azagury-Partridge has launched her second fragrance, Cosmic. Here's a description from Cosmetics International:

Like the jeweler's first fragrance, Cosmic was developed with the help of perfumer Lyn Harris of Miller Harris. The modern chypre combines a sweet candy accord with top notes of bergamot, aldehydes and galbanum, a heart of rose, jasmine absolute and iris absolute, and a dry-down of patchouli, vetiver, labdanum absolute, opoponax, myrrh and vanilla.

Oh my god! Hello, scrubber. This is one of the worst things I've smelled in a while. It's like baby powder that's gone sour and the dry down shifts further from sweet and more toward sour. I'm sure the artificial grape-flavored cotton candy smell is for someone, but in the immortal words of Bob Dylan, it ain't me, babe. 
Now I'm off to the bathroom to get to scrubbin'.

Do you like American music?

I was talking to some people about perfume and blogging recently. I've had a private personal journal for seven years, and this is one of the few times I've found the need to split one of my interests off into a separate journal.

One reason is that perfume is a new hobby for me, and one I really enjoy. I love trying new perfumes and I love writing about them, but most of my regular readers would be bored to tears by it. For me, though, thinking about and writing about perfume is like having a permanent writing prompt. Perfume is hard to put words to; learning the vocabulary required to describe smell is like learning a foreign language. I like the challenge and that the world of perfume presents, literally, more possible prompts that I have money or time for. And given that right now, law school continues to suck all the creativity out of my daily life, having something bto write to/against is really hope inspiring.

The other reason I split off from my regular journal is that I intend this blog to be an open writing experiment, one that I invite public readership of. The other projects I have going are narrowly focused on their respective topics and my private journal has evolved over time to be something that just is not for public consumption. But writing, my writing,is something I want read, at least some of the time. I've been at it for so long, and I spent so much of my angsty teenage life keeping all of it private, but like a teenager, yearning to have it read. So now I have this medium and a create-your-own-forum, things that were not available when I was young, and I want it to be read.

Hence this blog. When I first saw Memory & Desire, I thought maybe I would merge my love of modern American poetry and perfume. But when I smell perfume, I hear music in my head. Pop music. Rock music. Indie music. Country music. All kinds of music, but still, music. So that's the crux of my blogging I think. Music and perfume.


Okay, back to my law school finals.

I like American music.
Don't you like American music, baby?

Three Sisters

So in all my weird hidden girliness, I have a weakness for rose scents. Such a weakness that in the short period I’ve been acquiring perfume samples, I ended up with several rose scents. So today I decided to try three of them — Juliette Has a Gun Lady Vengeance, Juliette Has a Gun Miss Charming, the new Chloé EDP — to see which one was worth the $80+ plunge.

The Darkening of the Light
Lady Vengeance is part of a five perfume Shakespeare-inspired series roll out. Here’s the ad copy:

The perfume with a rich and sophisticated trail. The expression of undeniable femininity, confidence and divinely sensual. The fragrance of a lady for whom the art of seduction bares no secret. You can smell... you can dream...but it's all in her hands. The very elegant but thorny Bulgarian Rose marries patchouli and vanilla to draw this fine elegance, both contemporary and inevitable.

I love Lady Vengeance. It’s rose, true, but also more. It starts sweet, but quickly descends into a sour little undernote. I smell it hit the middle notes and it turns vaguely funeral, invoking a kind of iron bitterness, smelling the metallic way biting your tongue bloody tastes. After that shock of blood passes it settle into a sweet and spicy end. As roses go, this is a dark little number, and when I smell it, I hear Concrete Blonde in my head.

Smile Like You Mean It
Miss Charming is described as follows:

The perfume of a virgin witch, docile and provocative, elegant and sensual. One instant, holding up the pressures of the world and the next, crying hot tears over the death of Enzo, her bowl fish! A joyful interpretation of the Moroccan Rose, musk and airs of wild fruits. A fragrance that makes up ingenuousness and lucidity.

On me it reads as rose and honey, but turns powdery and more tangy sweet on the dry down, the same sweetness you smell in fresh orange juice. Compared to Lady Vengeance, it is lighter and sweeter. Miss Charming is what I think of as more classically rose.

You can read an additional review of both Miss Charming and Lady Vengeance from Robin at Now Smell This! here.

Love Me, Love Me, Say that You Love Me
 I decided to give Chloé EDP a chance despite the scorching review Chandler Burr gave it. As a little girl, I really enjoyed the cheap drugstore Chloé, and so I figured giving the tiny sampler a go could not hurt anyone. Here's the copy shtick:

A new fragrance that encapsulates Chloe's youthful and contemporary appeal launched this month. Robertet perfumers Michel Almairac and Amandine Marie combined hints of peony and lychee with the embellishment of springtime freesia. The distinctive character of a rich rose is accompanied by magnolia and lily of the valley, along with subtle warm amber and cedar.

It was actually one of the first roses I tried, and smelling it now, next to the others only a couple of months later, is an interesting experience. Next to the Juliettes (or as I like to think of them, Rose-Red and Snow-White respectively), it has a hollow smell to it. Reviews have described it as synthetic, and maybe that is what it is, but to me it has a clean smell like you find in lemon based organic cleansers. Not sweet, but not soapy either. Instead, tall and angular, like one of the mod dresses they used to dress Twiggy in. Also, while Chloé lasted the longest of the three at a good six hours, what you smell up front is what you get. This is a one note song.

Final Verdict
As much as I enjoyed Miss Charming for being exactly that, charming, and as interesting as I find Chloé interesting in its comparative 60’s model stickfigure style, I decided to card down for Lady Vengeance. I’m not tall and skinny like Chloé, and I’m just not nice enough to be Miss Charming. I never was. But dark, angry and stubborn, misunderstood but really wanting to be good? Lady Vengeance, we were made for each other.

We are alive, so we've gotta live life to the fullest...

You were on my mind
at least nine tenths of yesterday;
it seemed as if perhaps I'd gone insane.
What is it about you
that has commandeered my brain?
Maybe it's your awesome songs
or maybe it's the way
when I look at your face
I can tell that you're not going to be stopping soon
or even slowing down...

I have a weakness for inconvenient love stories.

You know, the kind where two people meet and fall in love, but one of them is leaving for war or dying or has just lost their job and is going to bury a parent. I don’t know why.

For me it just seems like love, if it is meant to last, with all its difficulties and strains and stresses, should be hard. It’s not supposed to be easy. Yes, you look across a room or a bar or a plane or, hell, a mall food court, and you see someone and your heart literally hiccups in your chest. But there should be something difficult about making it work in the beginning, something out of the control of the two people involved that isn’t just about personal insecurity or drama, but about real life choices, that makes it all more real. Because if it is real, if it is meant to move you and change you and turn not just your head (which a lot of people can do) but also turn your heart (which very few will), it should require turning your life around. Making choices is something that will be required for loving someone over a lifetime because there will be moments when one or both of you are struggling or scheming or dreaming and the other has to learn to be the proverbial wind in the sails.

So, yes. I like stories where people get pregnant and then fall in love. Where you fail at work and your dad dies and all you want to do is commit suicide by exercise bike, but instead choose a girl in a red hat. Where you think you’re going crazy because a voice is talking to you telling you that you are fated to die while the girl you love screams at you for auditing her, but somehow your life is saved by wheat flour and a wristwatch.

There were times apart;
there were times together.
I was pledged to her
for worse or better.
When it mattered most I let her down.
That's the way it goes. It'll all work out.

Seth Cohen, Hot Jewish Man of Sarcasm

So, since this blog is for all my (sometimes embarrassing) feminine things, I will take this opportunity to make a confession: I love the first season of The O.C. Yep. I do. This is clearly the worst of all the bad teen dramatic comedies I have watched for an entire season (not counting the random episodes One Tree Hill or Jack & Bobby).

The worst. The most melodramatic. The most over the top convoluted plot lines. Worse than the Dawson’s Creek's would-be teens played by 20-somethings spouting dialogue written by 30-somethings. Worse than Felicity, an entire series premised on a girl following a guy who does not know she is alive across the country to college and then getting a not-even-a-break-up haircut so bad it became a cultural icon. Yeah, the first season of the O.C., it’s worse than that. And while I had the good sense to stop at the end of the first season, while I and the plot were still ahead, I still really enjoy it to an embarrassing degree. To me it’s the television equivalent of caramel corn. It’s light, fluffy, so sweet it is almost sickening, and 20 minute after I’m finished I’m hungry again because I completely forgot I consumed it.

So whilst I fry my brain trying to cram a semester worth of very complicated legal rules in there, I try to balance it out with the most captivating, least substantive mental food I can find. It’s my opinion of a balanced psycho-diet. Dee-licious.

Now back to Ryan’s arms, Sandy’s sexy jewbrow, and my personal favorite, Seth’s dorky quippy self-loathing.

For the record:

It isn't as though I love everything I smell. It's just that I don't have a lot of time right now, so I keep posting the stuff I actually like.

More slammage--later.

Review: Costume National 21

21 Costume National is described in this way:

Created in honor of the 21st anniversary of Costume National, 21 pays homage to the luxurious simplicity that can be found in the hypermodern and timeless creations of this Italian fashion house. 21, an alluring blend of understatement and sensuality, captures 21 favorite scents of the designer Ennio Capasa. The intriguing list of notes features milk and orange blossom, saffron and cumin, royal jelly and oud, moss and vanilla. Creamy, dreamy, enveloping, 21 is an olfactory vision in white. The tender floral top notes dissolve into the soft spiciness of the heart, where saffron mixes with patchouli, oud and olibanum in an accord of astounding depth and opulence. The sweet darkness of the base notes of tonka bean, vanilla and musk is the very epitome of comfort. At once astonishingly sensual and beautifully tranquil, 21 is destined to become a new cult favorite.
21 notes: bergamot, milk, orange blossoms, saffron, cumin, pepper, cashmere wood, royal jelly, moss, clary sage, patchouli, olibanum, amber, sandalwood, oudh wood, cedar, vetiver, labdanum, tonka bean, vanilla and musk

There is no world in which I can actually smell 21 different things in this. I doubt there will ever be a time I can actually smell 21 different things at once, period. That said, I have been wearing 21 all day long and for the life of me, I still can't figure it out. Immediately out of the vial it's medicinal, like camphor, but shifts into a tabacco/vanilla/cinnamon (probably the amber and sandalwood), and then settles into a sweet woody scent that occasionally kicks me in the nose. There's a bite there -- I don't know what it is, but it's sharp to the point of inciting a tangy feeling, similar to when you inhale chlorinated water. Or maybe when you accidentally inhale pepper?

Whatever it is, I enjoy it. A lot of the warm scents I tend toward might start off sharp, but wear down to something sweet, powdery, feathery. This, whatever it is, stings me all the way through, and that dirty musky note is...well, hot. It's just hot. Sexy enough that I might even sport it during the summer heat with the right little black dress.

For additional rumination on 21, check out Robin's review over at Now Smell This!.

Like swimming.

INeKE Derring-Do
Independent San Fran-based perfumer Ineke Rühland offers a very attractive way to get consumers to try samples from her alphabet-scheme-named line: all five in small 1.5oz sprays, presented in a beautiful box, for $20, shipping included. As if that were not enough, should you love one of your perfume options, that $20 will be put toward the cost of a bottle!

Needless to say, I ordered the sample box posthaste following the recommendation of Heather over at Memory & Desire. Upon arrival, it was just as Heather described -- each bottle, wrapped in colored rice paper, individually boxed, inside its own beautiful and sturdy showcase box. As presentation goes, this is at the top, and would make a lovely gift for any budding perfumista.

But does it smell as good as it looks? Today, I'm sporting Derring-Do. INeKE describes Derring-Do as:

Spring rain, fresh and fearless, the first glimmers of light.

Notes: top, fresh citrus blend, rain notes, cyclamen; middle, magnolia, fougere accents; base, guaiacwood, cedarwood, musk.

 INeKE notes that this fragrance is "for men" but I'm in the perfumista camp that believes there is no such thing. I like Derring-Do. It smells like modern art to me -- clean, angular, stark. The initial application is a sort of citrus and spice combo. The citrus isn't a real life lemon smell necessarily, but it isn't chemically on me either. On dry down the spiciness drops out a bit, leaving a lovely clean lemon citrus kind of smell. INeKE aimed for spring rain, but I see light and air...like the fragrance version of modern architecture. James Turrell's work with light or Phillip Johnson's glass house. It's got structure, but it's clear, visible, even empty...but in a good way. Like sticking your hand through what Turrell has constructed to read, to the eye, as solid space, but isn't. Floating inside the solid, swimming in clear Carribean water.

This kind of art is an experience, whether it is visual or olfactory. You just have to know it for yourself.

Sweet like the way it was
like swimming for the
very first time...

I've got my spine; I've got my orange crush.

Red Flower Guaiac

So today, my perfume discovery is Red Flower’s organic, Guaiac. Red Flower describes it this way:

Red Flower’s homage to the tree of trees carries us into the infinite expanse of wilderness, into the faraway lands of scorching sun and dark earth. The balsamic, sweet fragrance of guaiac wood with its tea-like undertone, is freshened by the inclusion of pink grapefruit, sweetened by rose and enriched by the resinous luxuriousness of elemi, copaiba and cabreuva. A dreamy, soulful perfume that fills our hearts with wanderlust.

Notes: Guaiac, pink grapefruit, rose absolute, elemi, copaiba, cabreuva

I have a sample of the perfume oil, which comes on at first like a strong juicy orange rind, but quickly gives over to an orange blossom, and finally settles into a sweet, full tension between roses and oranges. Over several hours it lightens up, but because it’s an oil, it hides next the skin, floating up strongly when you warm up. So you have a lovely sweet summer scent that comes on like a sudden blushed response to an unexpected compliment. I find it sexy, flirty, ambitiously romantic. I love it.

I am trying to decide if that means I should go for the roll-on alcohol dilute or spring for the very expensive 15ml concentrate. It’s three times as expensive, but has the added benefit of not contaminating the perfume every time I put it on. I could wait a month or two to get it, but then the summer is coming to a close and I don’t see me wearing it a lot in the fall. I think Dzing! and Alamut will be back in full swing by then.

I’ll probably buy it anyway, because I am a full on sucker for a lovely perfume.

...coming in fast, over me...

Review: Bond no. 9 Little Italy

Bond no. 9 describes Little Italy as follows:

Citrus-flavored melt-in-your-mouth gelato in spray form.
Top Notes: Clementine, Grapefruit, Mandarin. Middle Notes: Tangerine, Jasmine. Base Notes: Sheer Musk.

Gelato? I think not. On me, this reads as more in line with orange sweettarts or smarties. It's both too sweet and citrus-y alright, but it completely lacks depth. And there is sharpness to the citrus tang that I found unpleasant, in a not really citrus but more what faux citrus flavoring tastes like way. Might make a better car freshener, but not a great perfume.

Dzing!: The Greatest Show On Earth

 Back to L'Artisan Dzing! today.

Dzing! is supposed to be inspired by the smells of the circus. L'Artisan describes it as:

A unique fragrance inspired by the circus. Possesses all of the distinguished fragrances of this wonderful universe: saddle leather, sawdust from the ring and the caramelised smell of candy. A perfume that reveals itself completely on the skin and is intended for both men and women. Soft and fierce.

Dzing! notes: tonka beans, balsam, saffran and ginger.

I definitely smell the carmelized candy, and the leather. There is a salty note that I pick up -- probably from the saffron -- that gives it a little bit of a stinging smell, which I experience both at circuses and at live stock shows and rodeos. This is less sweet than a livestock show, sharper and spicer, but it's in the same area.

Also, when I forget I'm wearing it and it wafts up and surprises me, I am immediately transported back to a certain high school boy's room. He was one of those loner types who kept his door closed when he was home with his parents,and he burned incense and played a well-card for, oiled acoustic guitar, and he wore perfume and always smelled lovely. Dzing! when it catches me off guard, smells like his room. Being old enough now to be someone nostalgic for my youth, I think that personal aspect of Dzing! is lovely.

Bond no. 9: New Haarlem

Today, Bond. no 9 New Haarlem.

Bond. no 9 New Haarlem: Described by Bond. no 9 as follows:

Get lost in the brazen jazz-club atmosphere of this wholly unique corner of NYC. With notes of vanilla coffee and patchouli this fragrance plays like an original jazz number boldly beautiful and full of surprises.

Now this -- I loved. I am an admitted coffee addict. And here: a coffee, vanilla, patchouli mix? Normally I hate patchouli. I'm with John Cusack on that one -- "Get your patchouli stink *outta my store*!" But in perfume, turns out, it reads more as minty-earthy, which I enjoy. Yep. I'm working on trying out several Bond scents, and this one is my favorite so far.

Current personal top 10, err 11.

Just for my own tracking, here is my current scent top 10 11 in no particular order. And I still have a whole lot of samples to go through. Because I love samples.

1. Annick Goutal Songes*
2. Lorenzo Villoresi Alamut*
3. L'Artisan Dzing!*
4. CB I Hate Perfume Wild Hunt
5. CB I Hate Perfume Smokey Tabacco
6. Origins Ginger with a Twist* (discontinued -- now I have to hoard bottles I find for cheap on Ebay)
7. DSH Perfumes The Vert
8. Worth Courtesan
9. Juliette Has a Gun Lady Vengance
10. The Body Shop Spiced Vanilla**
11. Bond No. 9 Bryant Park

* means I have an actual bottle more of a size of 30ml or more.
** I just love this; no excuse.

Review: CB I Hate Perfume Smokey Tabacco Accord

Familial scents...
My grandfather, my Pawpaw, had a stroke when I was five. It was a stroke of the life altering kind, the killing kind. He lived, and a very long time, but he was never the same person after. I only have a few real memories of him prior to the stroke, and then I have things that I think I remember because people have told me them so many times -- faux memory constructs. 
Here is what I remember of him from before he had his stroke. He mowed my grandparents lawn in a blue and white patterned polyester shirt and shorts. Sometimes he mowed ours, too. He drove us to the beach, and their beach house, in a big battered blue station wagon. He listened to old country and sang loudly and somewhat badly. But happily. He took me out into the Gulf all the way to the second sandbar, him walking and me floating along in an innertube. He took me to his office, and in it he kept a bag of lemon drops in the bottom right drawer just for me. There are a few more things, but those are the strong ones. He used to take me to ride ponies after going to the office, to ride old retired ponies around a dilapidated ring. After the beach, he would take me to a waterslide and he would take me down it because I was too scared to go alone. He drove us out into the wilds of East Texas to visit my great-grandma (Mother Nanny) and my greant-aunt (Ain't Lee) and about thirty other somehow related virtual strangers. He lives, in my mind, as a sort of icon of manhood -- tall, funny, loving, protective, active, responsible, brave. To say, given my tumultuous relationship with my father, that I loved my grandfather is not a clear enough statement. He is more than that to me. Always will be.
One of those things I remember? Before his stroke, he smoked a pipe. My grandmother smoked gross Winston Reds, but my grandfather smoked a lovely pipe. Thanks to CB I Hate Perfume's Smokey Tabacco Accord, I can now trigger those fond memories at will.
I, just generally, love Christopher Brosius's line of perfumes. The line, entitled "CB I Hate Perfume" is different in that it strenuously avoids smelling like what you think perfume smells like. I have samples of about eleven of them already. One of the perfumes, Smokey Tabacco Accord, is now one of my top ten favorites. CB describes it thusly:

I love the scent of smoke. Even the acrid can be made attractive… The smells in this series are the scents of burning: burning wood, burning leaves, burning paper and most especially, burning incense…

Smokey Tabacco Accord smells like the memory of my Pawpaw, pre-stroke, and like the sweet lingering smell of southern men and their pipe tabacco. Sweet, a little tangy, it is the perfect combination of acrid and warmth. On the whole a lovely effort.

A Scent -- Love!

I have a new hobby...one that I actually enjoy talking about, so I thought I’d do that now. I am a burgeoning perfumista.

Yep, you read that right. Though not much of a traditionally girly girl, I have gotten into perfume. One of the regular bloggers for Now Smell This! works part-time in my office, and she got me into it. Now I am a fully fledged, blog reading, scent reviewing level 2/3 perfumista. Partly because I love scent, and I have a VERY STRONG olfactorial memory. Partly because smelling nice makes me feel so pretty, no matter how else I might look or feel.

The tricky thing about being a perfumista? Expensive. Another problem? I don’t speak French. You’d be shocked how much this matters, but hey, buying perfume internationally online means you really need some French. I have managed to satiate my obsessive need to try new fragrances, to experience them bloom and settle on my skin, by indulging myself not in $100+ bottles, but in $3-9 samples from Ebay, Lucky Scent, and The Perfumed Court and direct from perfumers themselves.

And, yeah, okay, I admit that I have now acquired a few bottles of extremely niche, hard to find in the real world, small perfumery too-elite/rare/small-for-department-store-sale perfume. I did pre-order Luca Turin’s anxiously awaited book. And I do now feel practically naked if I leave the house without picking a scent to wear for the day. On two separate occasions I have actually made a mad mid-day dash home to correct such an obvious oversight. And I did start a personal database of scents I want, scents I have, my personal rating, what I think they smell like (spec. notes, also associations), the notes listed by the perfumer, cost, where I got it from, etc.

So okay, I admit it. I am waist-deep into perfumista world. I did identify with, and laugh at, Lee’s post on Perfume Posse the other day. I genuinely love discovering new scents that make me feel pretty or feminine or fresh or sexy or cozy...I could go on and on. Right now, I’m sporting Dawn Spencer Hurwitz’s The Vert. My current reigning fav, though, is L’Artisan's Dzing!, though Romano Ricci’s Juliette Has a Gun: Lady Vengeance is running a close second. I have not had a chance to try Juliette Has a Gun: Miss Charming yet, but I suspect I will probably like it, too. I already broke down and bought Dzing! (though I got a great deal on Ebay) because L’Artisan has cut the 50ml bottle (originally threatening to cut it completely, then returning with only the 100ml) and I was afraid it would go away if I waited. Now I have to try for a measure of restraint before indulging the shift from winter/wet spring scents into wild, fresh summer scent.

Thank god for samples, bottle shares, and swapping boards.

I am not a pretty girl...

I am a woman who tends toward typically/traditionally male pursuits. There are, however, a few exceptions. This is a blog in which I can wax poetic about perfume, poetry, rom com movies, and the like, without constantly annoying my regular journal readers with perfume reviews.

I wish they could see us now,
in leather bras and rubber shorts.
Like some ridiculous new team uniform,
for some ridiculous new sport.
Quick! Someone call the girl police and file a report...

A Word about Rankings

I use a zero to five nods scale for ranking perfumes I review, and you will find these in the tags on each post. This is a very subject, internalized ranking system that I primarily use to keep track of (and curb my) impossible shopping w/r/t perfume. Because I can't even follow my own rules, I sometimes add a half nod when something is slightly better than a whole number but not quite good enough to meet the next level.

5 nods: Totally Genius. Possibly the "best of" a category I've tried (i.e. "best iris; best rose-chypre"). Buy immediately. Hang the cost -- you must own a bottle. If you find it cheap, you may even buy two.

4 nods: Really quite nice. Maybe not the best of, but high quality and worth owning. I'd go out of my way to buy a bottle.

3 nods: Good, but not great. I'd certainly take a bottle if one were offered me, and I might even buy one if I could find a good deal on it. Also, sometimes very good, but very good in a category of scents where I have found several 4s and 5s, which, by comparison, makes it a 3, not for any failing on the particular scent's part.

2 nods: Not terrible; decent and something I can understand some people liking and owning, but not something I'd buy on my own even at a huge discount.

1 nod: I really don't understand why anyone ever paid money to manufacture and market this. Might have been a great idea on paper, but completely falls apart in execution. Not worth it.

0 nods: OH DEAR GOD, why did anyone make this? Not only will I not wear this, I will actively avoid encountering it again. The rare and dreaded "scrubber."