I cannot believe it.

Review of By Kilian Good Girl Gone Bad

I cannot believe how long it has been since I last posted.

Have I stopped loving perfume? No.

Have I stopped wearing perfume? No.

Have I stopped buying perfume? No. I admit I've slowed down some, but I've already made my first purchases of 2014 and we're only a month in.

So why did I stop posting?  Some if it has to do with decreasing free time and increasing work responsibility.  Some of it has to do with feeling like I don't have much to say, which is silliness because actually things are happening all the time. So the answer is, no good reason certainly.  And time to correct it, I think.

One of my coworkers told me around the holidays that I always smell like "Christmas and deliciousness."  That's a pretty nice compliment. (Though I was wearing Jo Malone Bitter Orange & Chocolate at the time, so it was also quite accurate).  Another coworker sent me this NPR piece Friday entitled, "Perfume's Scents Of Subversion? Sweat, Musk And Patchouli" and said, "At first I thought it was you."

So obviously, perfume? Still a huge part of my life.  Right now Portlandia is covered in a crazy ice storm and I am wearing By Kilian Good girl gone Bad while I watch vampire movies and try to entertain my cats.  Part of the "In the Garden of Good and Evil" collection, the scent is described as:

A sensual and unrestrained temptation. The perfume opens on the fresh innocence of the petals of Jasmin Sambac and the Apricot sweetness of Chinese Osmanthus. Letting go of their demure appearances, the flowers toss off their inhibitions and reveal their decadent side! The Rose of May gives off its honeyed heat. The Indian Tuberose nakedly exhibits its milky roundness, while the narcotic sensuality of Egyptian Narcissus surges forth, uncontrollable and deliciously haunting. Notes of Virginia Cedar and Amber open up and try to assert their dominant character.

I have to say, I'm usually a sucker for By Kilian scents, but this one isn't what I expected.  Maybe it's because I have sweat, musk, and patchouli on the brain, but this one just isn't happening for me.

According to LuckyScent, the notes are plenty floral but there seemed like there was enough dirty fleshy bottom notes in the mix I thought I might like it: Jasmin Sambac, osmanthus, rose, tuberose, narcissus, violet accord, plum accord, cedar wood, amber, patchouli, vetiver, musk.

I've tried Good girl twice now, and I have to sadly report that for me? It does not work.  Nope.  It landed on my skin as a hot mess of florals and screechy white musk, overwhelming amber, and fake woods. I do get some peachy stone fruit in the middle, which is nice-ish, but it is just ruined by the almost headache inducing noise of the rest.

I feel both relieved and disappointed. On the one hand, I love a lot of the By Kilian perfumes and they are so expensive that it gives me and my wallet great sadness. So in that sense, I feel like I missed a bullet.  But on the other hand, there are folks out there who really like this one and get a lovely scent I wish I had the chance to experience.  Seriously.  I wish I was getting "slut in a lovely Dior gown" but that is not what is happening for me. Instead, the whole thing feels like a terribly awkward seduction. It's like a preteen with braces trying too hard to be sexy in her middle school frump wear. In fact, it most called to mind that scene when Dawn tries to seduce the lead singer of her older brother's band in Welcome to the Dollhouse. FN2. That is not attractive.

Victoria did a nice little rant on the name of the scent, which I feel inclined to agree with. I'm not much for slut shaming, and I tend to think she's right that this what the "gone bad" is meant to imply.  You know, in the same way that terrible Robin Thicke song wants to do things with 'a good girl.' FN1. I understand the need to feel subversive, but at the same time, you do kind of question whether playing into the the madonna/whore trope is a good idea.  I think the name would bother me less if the copy cut against the idea, but alas, alack, it doesn't.

In the end, Good girl gone Bad is a pass for me. But maybe you'll get lucky like some of the other reviewers who really liked it.

Want more? Try...
~ A review from The Non-Blonde
~ A review from EauMG
~ A review from That Smell
~ A review from Make Perfume, Not War
~ A review from My Perfume Diaries
~ A review from Ça Fleure Bon
~ A review from Perfume Posse

______________
FN1. Can't believe it took me this long to get around to posting the Feminist Parody, Defined Lines, on this blog.  LOVE.IT.


FN2. If anyone comments on the name similarity,  I will be most displeased.  

Do our gay ballet on ice, bluebirds on our shoulders...

Etat Libre d'Orange Don't Get Me Wrong Baby, I Don't Swallow

I'm back from my anniversary trip. We had a lovely weekend that went by, in my opinion, far too quickly. Since the 5th anniversary is "wood" and David, very sweetly, always buys me something along the anniversary theme, he bought me a very nice wooden box, a wooden book mark, two wooden magnets, and even a card made of wood from my favorite stationery store in town, oblations papers.

 Not just any wooden box, though. He got it for me specifically to hold perfume! That's right, perfumistas. It is exactly the right height to hold all of my decants, which were falling out of the sides of the wire basket I had them in previously. See the picture (to your right)?  They fit so perfectly!  And the box also fits great inside my cabinet. So now my unboxed scents are in the basket and the decants are in the box, and he even offered to buy me more boxes for my 1 and 1.5 ml want samples if it would help me store them properly.

I swear to you, if I weren't already in love, that would have won me over right there.

But enough gushing. Let's get back to perfume reviews, shall we?

First up for review this week is Etat Libre d'Orange's Don't Get Me Wrong Baby, I Don't Swallow.

It all starts with a hand on the nape of a neck. The hand of a man familiar with the practice of attracting young women, accustomed to crumpling their sleek hair and to getting the better of their well-behaved manners. This is the story of a man in a car at night, of a manly hand that draws a perfectly fresh face towards him - expressed at the start by a bouquet of white flowers: lily of the valley, jasmine and orange blossom –, and who anticipates the chocolaty taste and tenderness of a mouth. It is also the story of a woman who at first resists and finally goes down on him. The art of the “American kiss” unfurls on accords of ambre solaire, almond, sugar cane and marsh mallow. The man will discover everything there is to know about her: the warm roughness of her tongue, the rousing sensation of her back and forth. All there is to know and no more than that! The appetizer ends in a whisper: “Don’t get me wrong baby, I don’t swallow”.

Notes: jasmine, aldehydes, lily of the valley, orange blossom, solar amberey accord, patchouli, cacao, musk, and guimauve.

Don't Swallow, as I internally think of it, is so sweet and innocent it's hard for me to reconcile the naughty name with what's going on under my nose. I get the cacao and amber a bit right up front, which combine with the jasmine and lily of the valley to create a sort of bubblegummy sweetness. It's strangely delicate, though, and pretty soon just devolves into a light floral. It's a strange juxtaposition against the name, which I would expect to have a harder, edgier scent that was defiantly sexual. But maybe its just the shock value that makes me read it wrong. Maybe I'm supposed to encounter it as the gentle tease it reads as, like what one imagines occuring after they cut away from passionate bedroom embraces in films from the 1950s. It's a nice enough scent, which gets a bit musky and warm on its way through the dry down, but it reminds me of L'Artisan Mûre et Musc because I just find it too nice to wear.

I'm never gonna be a white lace dress with wrist-length gloves and a lavender satin ribbon around my waist. At my wedding I wore a dress with red bordering the bottom and corseting down my back and ending in a long blood red trailing bow. I wore nail polish called "I'm Not Really A Waitress" and bright red lipstick. Plus, I got married in the attic of a historic power station house on an old poor farm that has been converted to a pub and hotel with a bar two floors below me. I'm not really a sweetly demure, eye lash fluttering, bubblegum pink type. In musical theatre terms, I am not and have never been Sandy; I'm Rizzo, right down to the bad reputation.

That said, if you like the idea of flirting in too tight sweaters and pencil skirts while wearing thigh highs with seams up the back like a character from Mad Men, you might just love this scent. I can think of at least one friend I'd spray it on before we went out to bar hop, me in ballet flats, chucky jewelry, and heavy eye make up and her in tea length dresses and pearls. If that sounds like you, or at least someone you like to be on the weekends, check this one out.

You can get samples of Don't Get Me Wrong Baby, I Don't Swallow from direct from the perfumer.

"Stay out super late tonight
picking apples, making pies.
Put a little something in our lemonade and take it with us.
We're half awake in a fake empire."
- "Fake Empire," The National

Want more? Try...
~ a review from Perfume-Smellin' Things
~ a review from The Scented Salamder
~ a review of the line from Bois de Jasmin

I've been wanting to touch you since we met. You don't give a girl a chance to forget.

Jo Malone Red Roses

Sweet and neglected reader, it's been too long. It's always so hard to come back when I've been gone this long because I forget my train of thought.

So let me just jump in here in the middle and let's see where we end up, shall we?

I'm finally settled into the new job. It's boring, but better than no job. I got a new laptop. I bought some perfume, significantly changed my diet, made some new friends, some significant work on creative projects beyond this blog got done, took a fabulous solo weekend trip...

...it's been a busy few weeks.

But let's talk a little more about the perfume I bought. I bought two bottles from Jo Malone -- Pomegranate Noir, which I have a long held and seemingly unwaivering affection for, and Orange Blossom, a scent that surprised me when I reviewed it because I liked it more than I expected. I am pleased to say that I continue to enjoy them both post-purchase and I am happy to say I have no buyer’s remorse. In fact, the saleswoman at the downtown Nordstrom was so happy to sell me a bottle as a blogger thaat she plied me with about six 4ml sprayer samples, and made some interesting suggestions for layering the various scents.

Which brings me to the topic of this post – layering.

I’m of a very divided mind about layering. On the one hand, it opens up a world of scent combinations one might otherwise never experience. On the other hand, I feel very strongly that perfume is art, truly a real art form, and that layering subverts the artist’s true vision of the scent they intended to create and put out in the world. But on the gripping hand, it’s my perfume, bought with my money, and my scent wardrobe to wear, so if I want to expand it by buying scents and layering them, then who has the right to tell me not to, even me?

So, having never really tried layering since, quite frankly, there’s so much out there in the world standing alone and waiting for me to try it, experience it…judge it, that I never bothered. But I was having an adventure on my adventurous weekend, so I figured what the hell? They are small and easy to pack. It’s a weekend of weirdness, let’s get weird!

I received a sample of and Jo Malone Red Roses. I like Roses and try them a lot. As roses go, this one isn’t bad.  You might even call is "classic;" certainly some reviewers have.  To my mind, it just does not particularly stand out. The words I’d use to describe it are “average” and “unremarkable.” In a world heavy with remarkable, unique, innovative roses, that might as well be a condemnation. However, when I layered it with CB I Hate Perfume’s Black March, it was a delightful experience. Now, honestly, most of the uniquenesss to the combination came from the CB scent, but in this case it was a good thing. I can’t imagine layering Black March with Teo Cabanel Oha, L’Artisan Voleur Rose, Juliette Has a Gun Miss Charming, or Agent Provocateur, just to name a few. But the general unremarkableness of Red Roses, much like it’s bland name, made it a great compliment to Black March, like burying your face in a blooming bush, not in sunny summer, when it’s easy to stop to smell the roses, but in the cold, creeping wetness of winter, when appreciation is hard won and, perhaps correspondingly, more deeply felt.


I don’t know if I’ll end up buying a bottle of Red Roses. I doubt it. But I have loved the experience of seeing Black March in a new way, and that was worth quite a lot to me. Plus, I’ll probably forever associate the combination with my trip, and that might make it worth owning both.

What do you think, dear reader? Layering -- an invitation to bliss or a crime against the art of scent? Is a bottle of unremarkable worth owning if it’s really only good for sentimental reasons and because it’s association with a higher quality scent? I think it will end up falling into that category of "would love to get a bottle as a surprise gift, but don't think I'd go out to buy it for myself" category.

Inquiring minds want to know.

P.S. And just so you don’t think me a tease, I will get to trip specifics. In another post, which I promise will come as soon as I can write it down and convince Blogger to cooperate.

You can buy Jo Malone Red Roses in a 30ml for $55 or 100ml for $100 direct from Jo Malone and in a number of department stores. If you are a PDX local, I'd suggest hitting the Jo Malone counter at the Pio Square Nordstrom. You can tell the lovely woman, whose card I have tragically lost, that I sent you for a layering lesson.

"You came up behind me, grabbed my wrists in the dark
And said, 'Don't look at what you can't see.'
Now all night, all night.
I've been looking for you all night.
All night. All night.
I've been looking for you all night..."
- "All Night," Sam Phillips
( You can listen to the song here)

Want more? Try...
~ an incredibly comprehensive guide to roses including this one from Muse in Wooden Shoes
~ a review from The Scented Salamander
~ a mention from I Smell, Therefore I Am
~ a review from Scentsibility
~ a review from Bees Who Buzz
~ a review from We Heart This!
~ a review from Brainspam

Yesterday away from you, it froze me deep inside.

CB I Hate Perfume In The Summer Kitchen and Wild Pansy

I have a couple of job interviews coming up. I'm nervous, and...cautiously optimistic. I'd like to think one of them is going to help me find some direction soon, but I don't know for sure.

I've always been a driven person. Always known what I wanted, always preparing for the next step even as I'm finish up the one I'm on. These last few months I've read through every professional guidance book I can find, met with two difference career guidance offices more than once, and yet here I am, still struggling to make the next step, to commit to a path. It was easier without anyone else to consider, but I'm older now. I've got a partner to think of, and four cats who I love a great deal and who I would never abandon after saving them from a life without love or a home. From youth's perspective, so much of adulthood looks like self-betrayal and compromise.

From my now more middling age, I see that it's not about compromise. It's about choice. You make choices, every day, about what's important to you. I could get in my car tomorrow and walk away, but I choose not to. Because I love. Because I have a home and a family now, and I don't always have to be running, all the time. I choose to be anchored. And once you recognize that, you become more at ease with the in-between spaces. So for now, I live in-between and I explore my options, especially the ones that allow me time to enjoy being with my family.

For someone who scores off the charts as risk avoidant on personality tests that assess risk aversion, it's a strange and sometimes anxious place to be.

Now, on to the perfume.

There's a possibility that all I had is all I'm gonna get.

The Ten Party

So yesterday Angela and I did our presentation for the Gender Symposium on perfume. A prof brought her whole class and it seemed fairly well-received. I'm working on a couple of pieces for this blog that outline the content of the presentation, so for those who are interested -- hold your horses, it's coming. The most fun part I think, though, was when we passed scent strips we'd made around and tried to get the audience to guess if the scent was marketed as for men, for women, or unisex, and why they thought that. It was a lot of fun. More on that later...

Today I'm reviewing Ten Party by The Party. The description on The Party website was kind of ridiculous, though, so believe it or not, I turned to Luckyscent for a more useful description,

Where the Party in Manhattan seduces with a decadent night on the town, The Ten Party invites us to celebrate the refined pursuits of the day. It speaks of timeless elegance -- mornings of tennis at the club, afternoons on the yacht. The fresh-aromatic opening, redolent of citrus, gives way to its spicy, lightly floral but rather unisex heart. A civilized afternoon with jasmine tea refreshes, while an unexpectedly sensual drydown of woods and musk at sunset, the end of a long, rewarding day, whether at work or at play.

Notes: Bergamot, lavender Provence, Sicilian lemon, caraway essence, petigrain, pink peppercorn, tarragon, jasmine, clove, mate, incense, cedarwood, patchouli, oakmoss, musk

On me, The Ten Party is an interesting experience. On a warmer day a couple of weeks ago when I first tried it, I got a heady spice mix up front. Today, though, I got something akin to black licorice for the first twenty minutes or so. It was a very real kind of licorice thing going on, with just a few hints of spices popping through on occasion. About twenty minutes in though, all that spicy/licoricey goodness drops out as I get this sort of hollow ozone-y thing that has a lemony edge, kind of like a cleanser on me.I know it's partly the bergamot and partly the lemon and partly the caraway, and I want to like it, but on me all I get is something that smells like an organic cleaning product. I know a lot of people love this one, but for me? My body chemistry just says no.

Too bad, too. I wish the licorice thing had lasted. That was quite nice. It might make a nice Spring scent for someone, but it just isn't me.

You can buy 100ml of The Ten Party for $160 from Luckyscent, and you can get samples from The Perfumed Court.

"So tell me when you hear my heart stop.
You're the only who knows.
Tell me when you hear my silence.
There's a possibility
I wouldn't know."
- "Possibility," Lykke Li (You can see avideo featuring the song here)

Want more reviews? Try...
~ A review from Perfume-Smellin' Things
~ A review from Perfume Posse
~ A review from The Scented Salamander
~ A review from He Smells, She Smells
~ A review from Fragrantica

Shades of gold displayed naturally.

Balmain Ambre Gris

Hello, dear readers. Long time, no talk. I’d have posted this earlier today, but...

...I took a nap.

Yep, sorry. Totally passed out. Had to get up early to take my friends Becca and Steven to the airport so they could go to Becca’s sister’s bat mitzvah, and by this afternoon, I was tired.

Then there was a knock at the door. Since I live on campus, and David is the first line of defense in any problem any student could be having, really, they knock all the time. In this particular case, it was two guys who were locked out of the campus co-op, which we live above, and were looking for David to let them in. When I opened the door, my Papaya made a run for it as she often does, and the two young men standing there grabbed her for me. When they handed her back to me, I was immediately slapped in the face with….stale cigarette smell.

Oh. Em. Gee.

Having not been around a smoker of extremely cheap cigarettes since I got into perfume two years ago, let me tell you – THAT IS NOT A PLEASANT SMELL. Wow. I never enjoyed the smell of stale cigarette smoke, but now? Yick. I may love many tobacco scents, but the actual smell of cigarettes? Ruined by all the chemicals added to make them more addictive I’d wager. Once upon a time, as someone who very rarely was a social smoker (like I went through a pack every 3-4 months because I only smoked at shows where I would have been second-hand smoking anyway), I at least had the good sense to smoke Nat Sherman MCDs, which back then cost $5.50 a pack ($11.65 now) and I had to drive across town to purchase. So let me tell you that when I say here that I think a particular scent smells like the sweet smell of wet tobacco or the plume of smoke rising from a long cigarette holder, know that I do NOT mean the wet dog and ash smell I associated with these boys tonight.

Moving on.

I got a package full of lovely samples today from the always lovely Ines, so I thought I’d share one of the scents I got today.

Here is what Luckyscent has to say about Balmain Ambre Gris:

We have been longing to have a bottle of this ever since we saw a magazine article featuring the uber-glam disco ball topper. Happily, we love the juice just as much. The opening is unexpectedly fruity and sweet, with a hint of salty ocean breeze, and just when we start wondering if we might be headed for a pina colada, velvety woods and exotic spices insinuate their way into the mix, and the fragrance becomes rich and luxurious and warm. There is an ever so discreet purr of animalic muskiness, and the immortelle adds an autumnal sweetness to the cedary woods– but there is also a surprising airiness from the tuberose that makes this a definite year rounder of a scent. The elements are so smoothly blended that it’s difficult to pick out notes – but the overall feeling is elegant, sophisticated and delightfully easy to wear. This isn’t a fragrance that is going to jump out at you and say “wear me to a gala!” This is an everyday sort of scent: soft-spoken enough for the office, lovely enough for a date night, distinctive enough to stand out from the masses without making a big fuss about it. Like that perfect cashmere cardigan – it goes anywhere and everywhere and you can’t imagine how you ever got along without it. Effortlessly beautiful.

Notes: Pink pepper, cinnamon, tuberose, immortelle, myrrh, smoky gaïac wood, benzoin, white musks, ambergris

The immediate impression I get is sweetly spicy. I strongly get cinnamon and myrrh but underneath that I definitely get the animalistic notes straining through. It’s very strongly ambery, reminding my of my middle school best friend Shannon’s penchant for burning amber incense all the time, so her room always vaguely smelled of it. It stays pretty consistent throughout and has decently large sillage, so it’s fairly strong.

I want to say more about this, but I’m fairly new to animalistic scents as an area of perfumery, so I don’t know what else to tell you. This reminds me a little of Lorenzo Villoresi Alamut, but this is less salty and more sweet. It has a little bit of tobacco and menthol in my nose, but I could be imagining that since I don’t see where it is coming from based on the notes listed. It doesn’t wow me, but it isn’t and, either.

You can buy 100ml of Ambre Gris for $135 from Luckyscent, though I spotted the same size bottle around the internet in various places for less than $25. And for $25, this is a nice buy that, trust me, if you decanted half the bottle and gave it away, it would still last you forever. Also, that bottle is adorable. I really love the disco ball top!

"This phenomenon, I had to put it in a song
And it goes like...
Whoa, amber is the color of your energy..."
- "Amber," 311 (You can listen to the song here)

Want more reviews? Try...
~ A review from I Smell, Therefore I am
~ A review from The Non-Blonde
~ A review from Perfume-Smellin’ Things
~ A review from One Thousand Scents
~ A review from The Scented Salmander

The real me is crying to come out...

Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue for Women EdT

Oi. Today is not a good day in my house. My mister overslept a work thing that is VERY IMPORTANT TO HIM, and he is really upset about it. I'm supposed to be studying, but -- and in some ways this is a really ironic thing to post right after my little feminist diatribe -- I am taking some of the day to clean up around the house because David finds it calming and comforting when the house is clean. Yes. I'm cleaning for my man. Because truthfully my man does quite a lit of the cleaning, generally, and certainly the lion's share of the crap-Diana-can't-be-bothered-to-do, and I feel like this is something I can do for him to make him feel better.

Though, honestly, I'd give my right pinkie for a decent and cheap bulk laundry service in this town right now. So whilst I an hi-ho-ing around my house this AM, I thought I'd spritz on a little som'em-som'em to talk to you about.

According to Neiman Marcus, one of the MANY places you can buy Light Blue, the scent is described as follows:

This stunning perfume captures the joy of living with:
• Lively Sicilian citron.
• Cheery Granny Smith apples.
• The spontaneity of bluebells.
• Feminine jasmine.
• Fresh bamboo.
• Charming white rose.
• Deep and true cedar wood.
• The fullness of amber.
• Embracing musk.

Light Blue starts out as a mixture of oranges and lemons, but quickly turns to a strangely sour cantaloupe. This lasts less than a minute; then it just fizzles. It goes strangely flat. I saw a review recently that referred to a scent as "linear" because it didn't really change on the wearer over time, and while that doesn't quite match this experience, i8t's similar. Light Blue has a clean smell to it, which isn't bad. It just doesn't have a lot to recommend it in my mind. When it comes to scents, I tend to either like big scents or unique experimental scents, and I tend to stray away from the straight forward, which may explain my difficulty in developing an appreciation for most of your mass market, department store fare. After about twenty minutes Light Blue does change some, and on me it turns to a non-descript fruity smell in the way smarties taste fruity -- very candied. They recently reformulated the taste of the Valentine's Day candy hearts, which are David's absolutely favorite candy year round and bar none, and when I was handed a pink one, I chewed a moment and then said, "It tastes...PINK. And pink is not a flavor." That's the way this smells fruity in this middle section to me. It's fruit, but don't ask me to specify what kind. Just fruity. By the forty minute mark the non-descipt fruit turns into a light, but obviously synthetic apple scent at the fore. In this stage, where Light Blue ultimately lingers, it becomes a light and pleasant, if not very distinctive, scent. It's not a bad scent; I just don't find an overwhelming amount to recommend it, and in a world as full of scent as mine, my dance card feels just a little too full for this one to make the cut.

Also, and I am all about the inner beauty of the juice and not the exterior appearance of the packaging when it comes to good perfume, this bottle? Not attractive. It's not necessarily ugly; certainly it would never make the ugly perfume bottle hall of fame. But the bottle, like the scent, seems to be designed to be inoffensive and not really worthy of comment, which seems like the opposite of the way I want to smell. That description to me is a good one for a household cleaner, not good juice. But then, that's probably my bias again. I suspect the girl I shared an office with last year probably wished I had been a little less in love with Dzing! and Songes and a little more in love with something mild and inoffensive like Light Blue.

This gets at a larger issue for me, though. I tend to think of good perfume as falling largely into two camps. It needs to be art, in and of itself, or it needs to enhance the natural beauty and uniqueness of the wearer, helping them to express themselves or a mood or a feeling in a more complete way.

When I say it needs to be "art," I mean it needs to contribute to the world of scent in a unique way that makes it stand out as something -- and again, here, I think of your classics (Patou Joy, Guerlain Shalimar, Guerlain Mitsouko, Guerlain Jicky, Chanel No. 5, etc.) or some of the work done by Christopher Brosius (Black March, Fire from Heaven) or Andy Tauer (Lonestar Memories, L'air du désert marocain) or something like Bond No. 9 Andy Warhol Silver Factory -- or it should be one of the scents that comes along and so captures the scent imagination it launches a thousand imitations (CKOne, Thierry Mugler Angel, CK Obsession, etc.). It can be a meditation on a moment or a theme or it can simply try, in its best possible way, to be unique to the world of scent, but it should be approached, both by the creator and the some significant portion of the receiving community, as something unique or special or difficult to get right. It needs not to feel like the newest thing to roll off the factory line; it needs to feel worthy of a turn on the catwalk at Spring Fashion Week in Paris.

Wearer enhancing scents, on the other hand, maybe aren't the iconic expression of an entire movement in the form -- like da Vinci's Mona Lisa or Van Gogh's Starry, Starry Night or Warhol's Campbell's Soup Can -- but they are good enough to make a collection or show when you thought of putting all the great "vanillas" or "violets" in a room, in the same way a museum collects works that, as a collection, demonstrate a movement in scent, like impressionism or the Hudson River School. They seem to evoke a specific mood (Annick Goutal Songes, S-Perfumes 100% Love) or are just really beautiful examples in their own right, which might also put them in the "art" category, like some effort to create a platonic ideal of a certain note or aspect of a note (L'Artisan Iris Pallida, Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist, Guerlain Spiritueuse Double Vanille). They might collections that reflect attempts at a movement in scent (ultra-realism) or the right scents for critical life moments (weddings, births, funerals) or a collection that attempts to express an emotion, like sadness, through perfume or all the aspects of a single note (like collecting the very best roses -- the patchouli rose, the real rose, the leather rose, etc.). These are scents that might not be the next "CLASSIC" we know and love for a century, but in their beauty or their mood-setting make the wearer a more complete expression of self in the moment.

So when I run across a scent that seems intent on being light and inoffensive and not saying a lot for itself or about the wearer, I admit that I tend to feel slightly irritated because it just seems like such a waste of money and time when it comes to the creation and marketing of scents that don't intend to make any kind of statement. Like good music of any kind, if the juice doesn't move you at some level, what is it for? And perhaps that judgment, try as I might to avoid it, influences my nose a bit. I recognize that all that juice creation in general is what gives us the space to create the scents that endure the ages, but I can't help feeling like they represent a missed opportunity both for the creator and the wearer, and that makes me a little sad. At the same time, I suppose there are a whole lot of people out there who don't love Uta Barth or Renoir or Mark Rothko or James Turrell and genuinely perfer Anne Geddes and Thomas Kinkade, and who am I to deny them the right to hang something on their walls that appeals to them? And who am I, therefore, to deny them their right to smell inoffensive and unremarkable? I guess I just look around at the wonder and beauty around me and it makes me hope that everyone wants a little more of that in their world, their life, so I am disappointed when they choose otherwise. But then, I've always been demanding.

Wow. Did not think I had that much to say about Light Blue. Back to cleaning.

You can buy Light Blue basically anywhere, from Amazon and Overstock.com to Sephora and Saks 5th Avenue. This obviously means it comes at a number of price points. If you try it and like it, you can probably get a bottle for 1/3 to 1/2-off high end retail, so for those of you who love this one, it's your lucky day.

"Oh the scupltor Michaelangelo
was asked how he got in the flow
and made the lovely David
from a giant block of stone.
He said, "He was in there waiting.
My job was simply excavating.
I just took away what did not belong...
Let me be the way I was created.
Let me find a pure and simple heart.
I'll chip away all jealousy and hatred..."
- "Perfect Work of Art," Karen Taylor-Good (you can hear the song here)

Want more reviews? Try...
~ A review from Bois de Jasmin
~ Also, the Make-Up Alley gang gave this an overall 3.7 of 5, with most of the 5 star reviews coming from women who are eight to ten years young than me or more. Maybe I'm just not in the target audience here? <starts making notes for post about age, marketing, and scent...>


Images are from Dolce & Gabbana, Renoir's Dance at Bougival, which hangs at the Boston Museum of Fine Art, Mark Rothko's work in the Rothko Chapel , and Uta Barth).

She had her way of thinking and Lord knows I had mine.

Sarah Jessica Parker Covet

When it comes to trying new things, while inherently risk adverse, I do tend to be pretty open minded when it comes to whether or not I will like something. Because I tend to like the things I like whether they are popular or not, I usually will try things and trust my own judgment as the item's appeal to my taste. I also don’t reject things out of hand simply because they are popular; I like to try everything–-good and bad, obscure and mass market-–and make my own determination. Therefore, I tend to do a lot of things other people won’t. I will sit through films that I am not sure I’m enjoying all the way to the end. I will endure a random hour of a radio station that plays music I don’t tend to enjoy to see if I’m missing out on things. I let people take me out to foods I haven’t enjoyed before so I can retry them.

Consequently, there are very few things I genuinely do not like. There are less than five films I’ve ever just turned off. I have more fingers on one hand than the genres of music that I find totally inaccessible. And there are very few scents that I think are true scrubbers. I try, very hard, to find the good in things, because I know that the scent I’m scrubbing off is probably a signature scent waiting to happen for someone I really care for. Please keep that in mind as I review SJP Covet.

Created in July 2007, according to Sarah Jessica Parker (SJP), Covet is

a stunning blend of fresh green notes, gorgeous florals and sensuous woods that instantly draws you in and won't let you go. Covet has top notes of wet greens, geranium leaves, Sicilian lemon, lavender and chocolate; a heart of honeysuckle, magnolia and muget, and a drydown of musk, vetiver, bois de cashmere, teakwood and amber.

On application, it is sharp and green, with a melon-y note that gives it a bit of a sour edge. It’s loud and trashy, and kind of burns out the nose the way trying too many scents one on top of another seems to burn out the nose. After about an hour it backs off, and finally get around to the being anything like the “lavender chocolate” tag Tania gives it in Perfumes: The Guide.

I get a lot of powdery notes, too, like someone took a lavender water flavored cream filling, rolled it in a medium coating of semi-sweet chocolate chips that have been melted down and mixed with paraffin for that glossy finish (“Forget tempering – this is faster!” the Learn Cookin’ in Five Quick Minutes host says with a wink), and then, in lieu of sprinkles or colored refined sugar, rolled each ball thoroughly in baby powder.

This feels like the sort of scent my Brittany Spears loving cousin who is in her early 20s would love. It's big. It's sparkly. It's like a sequined top. It's false eyelashes with gem stones. Given the right time and place, it can be outstanding. I can’t imagine a man wearing this, but I can think of a couple of very *beautiful* drag queens I knew back in Houston who would have loved it, and felt the name was a hilarious inside wink.

As I reread that description, it sounds bad. It sounds negative. Here’s the truth: it took over an hour for me to find the parts of Covet I like. But they are in there. The sweetness is sharp with greenery in the same way that salted caramels surprise you with the biting salt bits. It has huge sillage and really strong staying power, so know that if you wear this one, not a body in the room will miss it. Covet it isn’t bad, exactly. I don’t hate it. I didn’t scrub it off. I just didn’t find a lot that made me think, “I want to have this experience again.” But try it for yourself. It's not all bad. And that's something.

I found large quantities of Covet for sale on Amazon and Overstock.com for very affordable prices.

"One man's loss is another man's gain.
One man's pleasure is another man's pain.
Now when I left this town it was for her and for me.
Now I'm home all alone, with a paper that says I'm free.
I guess I'll hit the road again, and do what I do best.
To hell with her, to hell with him, to hell with all the rest."
- "One Man's Pleasure," Molly Hatchet

Want more reviews? Try...
~ A review from Robin at Now Smell This!
~ A review from Scented Salamander
~ A review from Bella Sugar

Images borrowed from Sarah Jessica Parker fragrances and Variety Magazine. All rights reserved.

There's a stain on my notebook where your coffee cup was...

il Profumo Cafe Vert

Cafe Vert, part of Italian perfumer il Profumo's classic line, is described as follows:

Cafe Vert develops from the soaking of green coffee-bean into pink grapefruit and mandarin pulp. It has an evocative and energizing effect on the psyche too. Its aroma gives pleasure to the person who either wears it or to the one that perceives it. The enchanting scent released by jasmine, cyclamen and geranium notes makes Cafe Vert an unforgettable refiner perfume.

What is this trying to be? It starts out with a strong syrupy coffee candy mess, but it spirals into a strange spearmint thing. You'd think it might be nice, but instead it's kind of like brushing your teeth and then immediately drinking coffee with cream and lots of sugar. Or maybe trying to gargle with a Caramel de Leche coffee and mint mouthwash simultaneously.

It kind of reminds me of Thierry Mugler's Angel A*Men, but this one is less offensive than Angel Amen because at least it's just two conflicting scents fighting for prominence. (Side note: part of the reason I have studiously avoided reviewing any of the Mugler scents is because, quite frankly, and no matter how I try, I just hate them. Go ahead, take away my perfumista card. I don't care. I hate them. All of them. There. I said it. Moving on.) I think it would work well as a bodywash maybe, as it does in Wash With Joe, but not as a scent. Not for me.

But yes, I am sure there are many who think that coffee and mint go together in a way that is lovely. I usually do. I loves me some peppermint mocha. But here, neither is an accent for the other; instead, both keep trying to fight for prominence so it's a weird gross mishmash. If they were going for minty chocolate here, they missed. Big time. I think it's worth smelling if you have the chance, but I can't recommend buying it without trying it. This one is going to have a small but dedicated fan base.

You can buy 100ml of Cafe Vert for $135 from Luckyscent.

"From the lips without passion
to the lips with a kiss,
there's nothing of your love
that I'll ever miss.
- "Black Coffee in Bed," Squeeze

I couldn't find any reviews other than the user reviews at Luckyscent.

Images courtesy of il Profumo, Girlichef, and Listerine.

Don’t Tell Mama, please Sir...

Pilar and Lucy To Twirl All Girly

I'm always on the hunt to find white florals that I like. It is one of those areas where I am very picky about my perfumes. I am really overdue on a review of one of my favorites, Kai, but that will have to wait until I can unpack it. First up, Pilar and Lucy To Twirl All Girly.

According to Pilar and Lucky, To Twirl All Girly

is a fun, flirty gardenia based scent. Pilar and Lucy II is all about embracing the best of being a girl. Like the famous photo of Marilyn Monroe on the subway grate, you'll want your skirt to accidentally blow up or twirl in the breeze as you spin in happiness. The scent is about optimism and sweetness; good girls finish first.

On application, To Twirl All Girly is light, sweet and coconut-y, but the sweetness starts to burn off a little and I get a hint of strange, skanky note I can’t place. To Twirl All Girly seems strangely hollow, though, like it has top and bottom notes, but is somehow missing the middle. It’s sort of coconut, cantaloupe, and dirt mix on me. If this is a gardenia, then it is the lightest, weakest gardenia I’ve ever sniffed at, but that might be a good thing if you don’t like your white floral scents particularly strong.

I think it’s that little sourness underneath that saves To Twirl All Girly from being boring. The description of the scent, the “good girl,” isn’t something that would interest me. But then, when I think of Marilyn Monroe, I don’t think of an innocent, good girl. Apparently Carmen Electra wears it, not the first person to spring to mind when I think “good girl.” I think of Norma Jean as a vivacious and intelligent woman who seduced a sports icon, a playwright, and a president, not to mention millions of fans, controlled her own career, and sadly died to early either as part of a cover-up or as part of depression and accidental overdose. Either way, not all that optimistic or sweet. Another reviewer said it reminded them of LA, and I think it reminds me more of what L.A. historically and notoriously does to nice, fresh faced, straight of the farm girls after six months. It’s not quite as bad as what happens if she gets off the bus in Vegas, but it’s not all pretty innocence, either.

And that saves To Twirl All Girly for me. It’s a sugary confection coating with something a little dark and surly underneath. Worth a try certainly, for those who like sweet fruity scent with a little bit of complication to it. Also, the bottle is, I’m sorry, just hideous. In an industry that prides itself on style in packaging, either by being overly luxurious or artfully minimalist, this packaging is the equivalent of those hideous country decorations of geese with blue ribbons that predominated kitchens in nicer homes in my neighborhood growing up. Yick. And double yick. If you buy it, try decanting it into something prettier, or at least less…just less.

You can buy To Twirl All Girly in a 30ml bottle for $58 direct fromthe perfumer, Luckyscent, The Perfumed Court, Luscious Cargo, and other online retailers. You can also get the scent in a lotion or candle.

“Mama, doesn't even have an inkling
that I'm working in a nightclub
in a pair of lacey pants.
So please, Sir,
if you run into my Mama
don't reveal my indiscretion.
Just leave well enough alone.
- “Don’t Tell Mama,” from Cabaret

Want more reviews? Try…
~ A review from Pink Manhattan
~ A review from Jenny at Perfume Making

Images from Plar and Lucy, FanPop! and Photobucket. All rights reserved to respective copyright holders.

Cause everything that glitters is not gold.

Avon Rare Gold & Rare Pearls

Two more Avon scents are up today: Rare Gold and Rare Pearls.

Apparently some internet wholesalers managed to grab the ad copy for these two. Rare Gold is, according to Avon marketers, “As rare as the woman who wear this scent, this floriental fragrance for women opens with notes of ylang-ylang, freshly sweet bergamot, and mandarin. Heart notes are sweet jasmine, orange blossom, lily of the valley, tuberose, gardenia and aldehydes. The base brings woodsy notes of sandal wood, amber and powdery vanilla.”

Just reading ‘floriental’ made me chuckle derisively, but hey? Who knows what beauty lurks in the hearts and minds of Avon chemists? So I tried it. On application Rare Gold is white flowers, spice, and wood. I get a lot of gardenia, jasmine, and aldehydes from this one, and only a little bit of spice, so it’s much more “flor” than “iental.” The opening is a lot less synthetic than I expected given the budget packaging and somewhat hilarious name. (“Rare gold”? As opposed to that other kind of gold, which is super common?) Still, a good lesson in not judging the book by its cover, because it was better than I expected. Rare Gold isn’t what I’d term as “art,” exactly, but as white flowers go, it’s passable, and after about thirty minutes it gets kind of jammy on me, which improves it. I think there are better “florientals” out there, but if you want something less aggressive, maybe this one is for you. Personally, I think it would make a nice candle or potpourri.

Rare Pearls, which quite frankly has some truly hideous packaging if the photos are any indication, gets the following description from Avon: “It opens with rosewood, plum, honey and pepper. The heart is dominated by magnolia, while the warm base nicely caresses the skin with musk, sandalwood and patchouli.”

The opening on this one is really quite nice, like the dry musky smell of pressed drying flowers. I don’t get really any of the listed notes, though the petals drying in my mind might be blossoms from a plum tree, but the mixture is really pleasant at the first. As it dries down the sandalwood kicks in (I spotted neither hide nor hair of the patchouli), which moves it from this delicate musky experience into more of a flowers and spice gig one expects from perfumes marketed to “mature women.” Which is too bad, really, because if it had hovered in that initial place, I would have loved it. Where as Rare Gold gets more fun over time, Rare Pearls becomes less so. Still, not a bad fragrance, and also one that might have made a very nice room spray.

On both of these, really it’s the name that kills me. Shakespeare wrote, “What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” and to a certain extent, that’s true. But to call something rare, right there in a title, to compare it to jewels and other finery, is to either raise expectations or suspicions, depending on the experience level of the nose in question. These scents are nice for what they are, but I wouldn’t recommend buying them over something better made. Then again, gold and pearls aren't everyone's bag of tea. I'm sure some people out there love these and always will. For me, however, they both fall flat.

All the gold in California
is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills
in somebody else’s name.
So if you’re dreaming about California,
it don’t matter at all where you played before.
California’s a brand new game..."
~ "All the Gold in Calfornia," Larry Gatlin & the Gatlin Brothers

Rare Gold & Rare Pearls are both available for purchase direct from Avon.

You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation...

Avon's Chic in White, Sensuality by liiv botanicals, & Vitality by liiv botanicals

In response to my failed attempts to do a drugstore series in honor of Sookie Stackhouse, a very helpful reader gave me a little pile of Avon samples, which I can equally see Sookie wearing if one of the waitresses at Merlotte’s was selling it. So this week, I’ll doing a series of posts reviewing some of your Avon-related options.

First off, trying two liiv botanicals scents, Sensuality and Vitality. The liiv botanicals are touted as ”pure natural fragrance oils. Avon describes each as follows:

Vitality by liiv botanicals: Delight in the natural essence of this invigorating blend of succulent citrus and cucumber with a warm floral heart and breath of fresh woods.

Sensuality by liiv botanicals: Arouse the senses! Tantalizing notes of water lily, the exotic florals of jasmine, and the soothing calm of vanilla.

Both remind me of fruit in the same way that pixie sticks taste like fruit. That’s not a knock; I like pixie sticks, always have. But it may not be an experience I particularly enjoy in a fragrance. Vitality has little hints of green and a tiny citrus edge on application, but pretty quickly descends primary into light, sweet, soft, and powdery. The most interesting part about it was the dryness of the opening, which I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Sensuality also opens up a bit dry, with a salty tang and hint of vanilla. Again this burns out pretty quick as it descends into the same light, sweet, soft, and powdery experience.

The real difference between the two is that while Vitality is a very mildly aquatic powdery scent, Sensuality tends toward a very mildly gourmand powdery scent. All in all, not unpleasant, but not particularly impressive either, especially given the weak lasting powder (disappeared in less than two hours). Perhaps a nice first fragrance for a little girl, though. I kept picturing girls in communion dresses, white gloves, and shiny white patent leather shoes as I sniffed it.

Speaking of white, let’s also talk about Chic in White for a second. Chic in White is, according to Avon, supposed to be “fresh citrus [that] flirts with floral bouquets and sensuous white woods.” I have no idea where the description comes from. On me, Chic in White is a less sweet, less rich, less spunky incense oriental than Lorenzo Villoresi’s Alamut. It’s a definite pass for me, but for someone who doesn’t like the bold strength of Alamut, you might like Chic in White.

...You got a brand new soul and a cross of gold,
but Virginia they didn't give you quite enough information.
You didn't count on me
when you were counting on your rosary...
- "Only the Good Die Young," Billy Joel

Chic in White, Sensuality by liiv botanicals, and Vitality by liiv botanicals are all available for purchase direct from Avon.

The best laid plans...

Prada Infusion de Fleur d’Oranger

Last night, for lack of solid plans, a friend and I went to check out the Galleria, one of the bigger malls near my home. On my way through the Nordstrom there, I inquired, belatedly I admit, about the Prada Infusion de Fleur d’Oranger. Spray, spray, and away I went, sniffing my wrists throughout the hour and a half I spent wandering and window shopping.

Infusion de Fleur d’Oranger, according to Women’s Wear Daily, is one of the “Ephemeral Infusion” fragrances, designed to “evoke a light memory of the original ingredient”. The notes are Mandarin, Neroli (Top), Orange Blossom, Tuberose, Jasmine (Middle), Serenolide, Powdery Notes (Bottom). It is supposed to be derivative of Infusion d’Iris and Prada No. 4 Fleur d’Oranger.

Infusion de Fleur d’Oranger is Prada’s first entry in the realm of the limited edition (LE) scent. As a collector by nature, I am a huge sucker for the limiteds. I was super excited to try this one. I love Infusion de Iris. I generally love citrus. You cannot imagine how disappointed I was.

I liked the opening bit, which to me was like the taste of biting into an orange rind – a little sweet, moderately citrus, and quite a bit of bitter pith. I imagined the bitterness would back of a bit to balance it out as I wore it. Ten minutes in, it hadn’t. The smell was definitely recognizable. “What is this?” I asked my friend, shoving my wrist under her nose. “It’s so familiar.” She agreed, but couldn’t place it either. So there, I am, wandering through the mall, deeply inhaling off my wrist like a coke addict at a Columbian drug lord's buffet line, while my friend – a non-perfumista – tries not to be embarrassed by this weird tick I’ve apparently developed – when all the sudden it hits me. “Aquanet!” Shoving my wrist in front of her again, I happily yelled, “It’s Aquanet right? Aquanet (Sniff!) and (Sniff! Sniff!) a little bit of orange rind?” She laughed and agreed.

At first, I was just thrilled to have placed it. Of course, a beat later I turned to her and said, “Who would pay so much to smell like a Southern girl’s head of big hair?” And it smelled big, too. It’s been three hours and the sillage is still hanging on. It’s less soap and hairspray now, and more musky, like the way a Southern girl’s big hair smells to her date at the end of the senior dance as opposed to the scent he catches at the beginning when they pose for a picture and he inconspicuously leans in to smell her, a smell familiar and exotic to the wild thump of a fifteen y.o. male heart. It’s not a bad smell, exactly, but not one I’d particularly seek out for the experience. There many be many people who love it; certain the myriad of reviews (see below) indicate mixed results. And about three hours later it got a little nicer as the soap backed off and the citrus came in more, but I, for one, do not wish to wait three-four hours to like something I'm wearing.

I recognize that LEs are a great marketing technique to catch suckers just like me. At the same time, just because everybody else is doing it, does not mean everybody should. Infusion d’Iris is just so lovely. I like to think that if Prada had taken the time to tinker with this one until they got it right, rather than march it out for the four month blip it’s bound to be, it might have turned out a very nice fragrance, since the concept is an unusual treat. Great idea, but in this instance it really falls flat on execution.

Want more review? Try...
~ Robin's review at Now Smell This!
~ review by Fragrance Bouquet
~ review by Nioi
~ review by Pere de Pierre
~ review by Perfume Shrine
~ review by I Smell Therefore I Am

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.