I love you when you give me things.

Etat Libre d'Orange Tilda Swinton Like This

"The real science is discovery, Charles, not invention. The truths are there, whether we find them, or not." - Peter MacNicol as Dr. Larry Fleinhardt, NUMB3RS

I heard this said on a tv show I watch recently, and of course, like everything else, it made me think of perfume. Do we ever ‘create’ scent, really? Or is the creation of perfume really just a matter of discovery? Out there lays a vast ocean of scent, and we just wander around in it, waiting to happen upon a new sensation or old memory. So when it comes to the new Etat Libre d'Orange scent, Tilda Swinton Like This, I have some discovery related intrepidation. You see, the Rumi poem that supposedly inspired the scent? Also the poem from whence my husband’s wedding vows to me came from.

Yep.

He took it from an illustrated book of Rumi poetry I gave him early in our courtship.  So, basically this scent had a lot of very specific things it had to live up to in order to please me.

According to Etat Libre d'Orange , the scent came about like this:

I have never been a one for scents in bottles.

I have always located my favourite fragrances at the doorways of kitchens, in the heart of a greenhouse, at the bottom of a garden. Scent means place to me: place and state of mind – even state of grace. Certainly state of ease.

My favourite smells are the smells of home, the experience of the reliable recognizable after the exotic adventure: the regular – natural – turn of the seasons, simplicity and softness after the duck and dive of definition in the wide, wide world.

When Mathilde Bijaoui first asked me what my own favorite scent in a bottle might contain, I described a magic potion that I could carry with me wherever I went that would hold for me the fragrance – the spirit – of home.

The warm ginger of new baking on a wood table, the immortelle of a fresh spring afternoon, the lazy sunshine of my grandfather’s summer greenhouse, woodsmoke and the whisky peat of the Scottish Highlands after rain.

I told her about a bottle of spirit, something very simple, to me: something almost indescribable, so personal it should be.

The miracle is that Mathilde made it.

The great Sufi poet Rumi wrote:

If anyone wants to know what “spirit” is,
or what “God’s fragrance” means,
lean your head toward him or her.
Keep your face there close.
Like this.

This is possibly my favourite poem of all time. It restores me like the smoke/rain/gingerbread/greenhouse my scent-sense is fed by. It is a poem about simplicity, about human-scaled miracles. About trust. About home.

In my fantasy there is a lost chapter of Alice in Wonderland – after the drink saying Drink Me, after the cake pleading Eat Me – where the adventuring, alien, Alice, way down the rabbit hole, far fro m the familiar and maybe somewhat homesick – comes upon a modest glass with a ginger stem reaching down into a pale golden scent that humbly suggests: Like This…

My goodness! She does go on, doesn’t she? Well at least she had some ideas about what kind of scent she wanted her name on, distinguishing her from a lot of celebrities.

The purported notes are “yellow mandarin, ginger, pumpkin, immortelle, neroli, rose, vetiver, heliotrope and musk.“ Other reviewers have described it as a non-foodie pumpkin, pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, etc. scent. Me? Here are, unedited, my immediate stream of consciousness reactions:

Wow. This is weird. What the hell do I smell? Celery smoothie, a fresh box of crayons, cantaloupe juice spilled on a silk tie, and day old instant coffee all at once. Or...pumpkin bread with an overwhelming dose of coriander, if it were left in the sun on the sidewalk for three days in a plastic baggie and is now covered in that whitish mold. And then taken and covered in maple syrup and served for Sunday brunch. Or maybe someone made you a pumpkin latte with soy milk but the flavor syrup they used was cantaloupe?

Despite all those food words I just used, I agree with everyone who said it isn’t foodie. The scents I can think of that Like This reminds me of are SJP Covet and Bvlgari BLV Pour Homme. I tried all three together after my first go with Like This on it's own so that, like the bear who went over the mountain, I could see what I could see.

Like This is a more muted version of both, making it better than Covet (which is the weakest of the three) and making it less rich than BLV Pour Homme. While Covet is sharp like astringent, BLV Pour Homme is savory like a main course and Like This is sweet like a fancy dessert of fresh fruit poached in dessert wine. At this point, about 30 minutes in, Like This is the best of the three if you're trying to find a feminine in this vein. Around the two and a half hour mark Like This and Covet are completely indistinguishable on me, and neither is a particularly likable experience.

And I hate that. I do. I hate it when a scent everyone else seems to love just fizzles on me. And I really can't believe no one else noticed the similarity to Covet, as far as I can tell.  Of the three, I'd be most inclined to buy the muscular BLV Pour Homme for about a fifth of the price of Like This instead. But when I think of the Rumi poem, this is, in no world of mine, what it smells like. Ah, well. On to the next scent.

And with that, I leave you with this: The song David and I had our first dance to, five years ago this October.

"The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know but
I...
I love it when you give me things and
You...
You ought to give me wedding rings."
- "The Book of Love," Magnetic Fields (You can listen to the song here)

You can buy Tilda Swinton Like this in 50ml for $99 from Luckyscent. However, I strongly recommend trying before buying on this one. You can get samples from either Luckyscent or The Perfumed Court.

Want more reviews? Try...
~ a review from Angela at Now Smell This!
~ a review from Perfume-Smellin’ Things
~ a review from the Non-Blonde
~ a review from Perfume Posse
~ a review from The Scented Salamander
~ a review from 1000 Fragrances
~ a review from Perfume Shrine
~ a review from London Makeup Girl
~ a review from peredepierre

It feels like Independence Day and I can't break away from this parade.

Marc Jacobs Perfume EdP

Today all the seniors left. Those not graduating had to be out by Friday, but today is the day that the campus loses some of its cadre of the last four years forever. If I've learned anything over the last ten years in and around higher education, it is this: a campus without students is like a stadium with no team, a car with no driver, a house without a family to live in it. The vitality of place comes from a sense of purpose. Purpose gives belonging in the world. It gives meaning. Without that, without life, it's just a shell, not unlike the way people look after the life leaves them. A college is just that: a living entity. Without students, we don't exist, not really. And in the dramatic come-tragedies of several hundred lives, this set was written off the page today. And those who remain, more or less with it.

It's strange to be in a perpetual state of being left behind as people complete and move on from major chapters in their lives. I think we all like to believe that we are the stars of our world, our lives, but when you are -- annually -- a part of someone finishing one adventure and going off into the sunset to pursue to next one, it's a strong reminder that the world does not, in fact, revolve around you. Who becomes a minor and passing player and who continues as guest star is sometimes difficult to predict. It's an age old tale, only David and I live it a little every spring, just as we become new and important players in different lives every fall. Fall feels like life starting in our world, and Spring is the end, in a perverse reversal of natural forces. And tends to make me maudlin.

There are nice things about it, though. One of them is that David loves to go around at the end, when everyone has left, and look at what remains, scavenging from other people's trash things that, to us, are treasures. An abandoned course book; a random home appliance. And, at least this year, believe it or not he even came back with some perfume. This my friends, is how I came into possession of a three-quarters full bottle of Marc Jacobs perfume, and thus bring you this review today.

The perfume is supposed to be "Marc Jacobs interpret[ion of] Gardenia," described as follows:

Marc Jacobs Perfume maintains the fundamental aspects of all Marc Jacob's designs. It's classic, luxurious, and comfortingly feminine. The scent is both sensuous and uncomplicated, complementing the wearer without overwhelming her.


Notes: Gardenia, Wild Muguet, Skin Musk, Cedar, Ginger.

The instant application scent is watermelon scented nail polish remover. Luckily that fades almost immediately into gardenia. This gardenia is more wide than deep in scent, seemingly coated in a fat layer of watermelon jolly rancher -- sweet, fruity, and floral. I don't get cedar at all, though the musk is probably contributing that tiny sour bit that turns this toward watermelon and away from something sweeter, like strawberry or cherry.

On the whole, not the worst gardenia in the world. In fact, when it comes to a floral that typically get associated with the proverbial 'old lady' scent, this one might be very nice for a teenager or girl in her early 20s. And, inevitably, that's who left the bottle behind. It makes me wonder -- why did she leave it? Had she already found something she thought fit her better? Was it one of many options? As she went off into the end-of-school-year, beginning-of-summer sunset, did this no longer seem to fit her, after all the experiences she'd had in the last year? I hope so. I hope Marc Jacobs was left behind in a flurried rush toward something even better. It's nice to think that somewhere out there a girl is growing into someone she never expected to be, striking off toward new adventures. And I, the one left behind? Well, I get her perfume.

You can buy Marc Jacobs perfume in a variety of sizes from Sephora, Amazon, Nordstrom, and a number of other online and brick and mortar outlets. It also comes in solid perfume, body creme, and lotion.

"Hey, come on try a little.
Nothing is forever.
There's got to be something better than in the middle.
Me and Cinderella,
we put it all together.
We can drive it home.
with one headlight."
- "One Headlight" The Wallflowers
(You can listen to the song here)

You're so pretty, the way you are...

Paul Smith London for Women

David and I had a lovely lunch with the in-laws today.  I generally find my need for their approval terrifying, but it was a really nice lunch of thai food and conversation.  They recently retired to Washington State after a lifetime in Bakersfield, California, and the change seems to be treating them well as they were visibly happier than I'd ever seen them.  In my rush out the door, I grabbed my sample tin so I could scent myself in the car.  This is a risky proposition, generally, because who knows what you'll get or if you or anyone else around you will like it.  My sample grab-bag lunching resulted in this post.

Introduced in 2004, London for Women is described as,

A soft, sultry, and voluptuous fragrance from British designerPaul Smith. Luscious lime and the naturally bitter note of neroli. Lilac leaf, jasmine, heliotrope, aniseed, and vanilla all soften the bouquet. Fresh seringa maintains a modern zappy-happiness. Amber deepens the base notes, woven through with green woodsy accents. In a cute, curvy apothecary bottle of crushed-cranberry colored glass.

My immediate impression of London for Women is that the top notes create a jumbled scent of Aqua Net and good gin, like you'd expect Joan Harris of Mad Men to smell. It's a liquored smell that in my mind is all about juniper berries and a slice of lime. It's sharp and smells chemical, though not necessarily in a fake way. After about twenty minutes it becomes sort of thickly sweet, and I picture a G&T backed by a chaser of heavily sugared and milked coffee, served in a copper mug so it had a vague taste of pennies to it. There's also a kind of sharpness, like white pepper or red chili flakes. If there is a greenness to it, it's a bitter smell, that makes me think of the kind of reaction one might have to chewing large, wet, waxy leaves of a marginally poisonous plant. After an hour, whatever it has in the way of 'woodsy notes' is conveyed in a very sweet, powdery dry scent that reminds me of some of the very pink canisters of loose powder and fake fur puffs I got as a child.

Looking through the reviews on MakeUp Alley, I saw people describe this as "amber vanilla," tabacoo-y," "cold medicine-y," "sultry," "creamy," and "cherry almond." I think there cherry almond is the description I see the most, in that there is definitely an Amaretto thing going on in there at times. The wildly divergent experiences of this one make me think that it's very different on a lot of people. If I get the cherry almond, it's definitely on the way between the Joan Harris scent and the syrupy sweet coffee thing...perhaps there's Amaretto Torani Syrup in the coffee? It's a strange little puzzle of a fragrance to be sure.

Now all of this could, and in fact does, add up to some pretty mixed feelings on my part. On the one hand, the stinging opening, while unexpected, is nice once you get used to it. The middle is both so sticky sweet and bitter at the same time it seems like kind of a mess. The last bit isn't bad, but rather ho-hum in its boring indiscriminate powderiness. I liked the front despite it's assaulting nature; I didn't hate the end, I just thought it was boring. The middle is a rough transition between the two that makes me think that if a few notes had been swapped, this could have been excellent all the way through. Personally, I found it vaguely disappointing after such a unique open, but I can see how others might like it.

You can buy Paul Smith London for Women in a lot of places, from department stores to retail outlets like Target and online vendors like Amazon. You can get a mini of this one for as little as $6.99, and I got my sample from Rei Rien for a mere 25 cents, so I know if like this one, you can get it for a discount price with very little effort. That said, it does look like this one has been discontinued, so grab it on its way out if you want it.

"Love, love.
You say that you want it,
but you won't change me."
- "Pretty," The Cranberries (You can listen to the song here)

Couldn't find any reviews of this one, so you'll just have to try it yourself.

Little darling, it's been a long, cold, lonely winter...

Memoire Liquide No. 205 Vanille Florentine

Spring has sprung here in Portland, finally. The vernal equinox bought lots of sunshine and warmer weather, and just in time in my opinion. We've had a mild winter, but it's been a long one and I am ready for a change of scenery. Each year this change of meteorological tempo brings a surprise. In various places around campus, sometime during the fall, they plant tulips in various hues. You can always tell it's Spring here when the tulips start to bloom. So, in my mind, when I think Spring, I don't necessarily think "greens" like everyone else. (I think "green" in summer.) No, for me, Spring means flowers, lots of lovely flowers. And, therefore, sweet and lovely floral scents.

According to Studio Beauty Mix,

A unique symphony of exotic Vanilla accords, Florentine Iris and warm resinous notes composed in dreamy harmony decoratively packaged with a convenient roll-on vial.

My basic impression: candyfloss and something fruity. I've never smelled a Florentine Iris, so I don't know if a mildly citrus or melon like edge exists in the flower, but it's definitely here. There is definitely iris there, but mixed with this much candyfloss, it comes off as a little sour and melon-y and reminds me of the smell of cantaloupe.

In my opinion, iris tends to be earthy and realistic or classic and dignified, even in the most pop-y incarnations, like Prada Infusion d’Iris. But if a typical pop music iris is like the Bangles covering Simon & Garfunkel's folk hit "Hazy Shade of Winter," then this is like the Lady Gaga extended dance remix of the same song. It's big, it's loud, it's in your face and it goes on and on. That doesn't mean it is bad. But be prepared: it is what it is. This perfume oil lasts and lasts, I could still smell it faintly when I woke up the next morning, some eight or nine hours later.

Memoire Liquide says that their oils are "designed to layered and mixed, complimenting each other beautifully, but stand alone as well." I can't imagine layering this one with anything else though because it is so much of itself. Maybe Memoire Liquide Champagne et Mure #900, because it is gentle enough, but even that might push this super sweet scent over the top, placing the wearer at risk of insulin coma. If you're going to try this one, I strongly suggest that you do so at your own olfactory peril if you don't really enjoy the prospect of smelling like cotton candy. Even as candy flosses go, this isn't my favorite, but I can see some people just loving it. I'm sure, given the sweetness, that this one would be meant more for 'women,' but I'd love to see a man try it. I think the paradoxical image of someone traditionally masculine identified wearing this super sugary scent would be awesome. Given that I really enjoy candy flosses, I certainly would be willing to give anyone, male or female, wearing this one a nuzzle.

You can buy the perfume essence of Vanille Florentine in a 15ml for $65 from BeautyHabit who I love and is always generous with the samples, but if you want the whole line, StudioBeautyMix appears to be the place to by Bespoke Perfumery online. They have the perfume essence in 7.5ml, 15ml, or 30ml, plus an EdP spray, a bath & shower gel, a lotion, and a massage body and bath oil. I also found the 15ml on sale for $48 right now at Bird.

"Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces.
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun and I say it's all right."
- "Here Comes the Sun," Beatles (You can listen a Nina Simon sing it here)

I couldn't find any other review of this one. If you've tried it, please comment below to let us know what you think.

Flower image from Nancy J. Ondra at Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day. The bottle is Memoire Liquide and the last photo, obviously, is Lady Gaga.

Some were spellbound; some were hellbound...

Avon U by Ungaro For Her & Bond Girl 007 Forever

Today we reach the end of my foray into Avon samples, though not the end of our week of affordable scents. But take heart, dear reader, there are more affordable scents on the docket for Friday and Saturday.

According to Avon, U by Ungaro For Her is

a fresh, woody floral fragrance which features notes of bergamot blossom, freesia and pepper blossom in the top, acacia, living lotus flower, and osmanthus in the heart, and orris, sandalwood and musk in the base.
Notes: bergamot blossom, freesia, pepper blossom, acacia aura, lotus flower, osmanthus, iris, sandalwood and musk

The first thing I think when I try U by Ungaro is that the scent is trying, on application, to be too many things at once, practically knocking me down with its enthusiasm. Then, almost instantly, it goes flat, puffing up iris and sandalwood at me like the weak smell of 1950s face powder. Had the opening happened slowly, playing out the notes over time, I think it might have been great. Truthfully, there is just too much happening that disappears too fast for me to even be able to tell you what all is happening there. It's sweet, it's spicy, it's floral, it's...trying to hard.

Reese Witherspoon is fronting for this one, and I love her and think she is immensely talented, but when I smell U by Ungaro, the immediate mental image I get is of Tracy Flick, the toxically perky high school overachiever. She's like Paris Geller, if Paris had no conscience.

Last up is Bond Girl 007 Forever. The ad copy hilariously reads, "A sultry cocktail of dangerous seduction blending sleek citrus fruits and black pepper with sexy jasmine florals and smoky woods. Forever Irresistible. Forever Bond." The notes include pink pepper, rose, neroli, violet, muguet, amber, incense and cedar.

This was by far the best of the Avon scents I tried. On me, it is an aromatic citrus, all citrus and spice with a hint of amber-y sweetness. It’s a lovely scent, light and fun. It reminds me of CK One, but sweeter and more feminine. That said, I think it could make a nice masculine scent as well.

Bond Girl 007 Forever retails in a cute 50ml bottle for $30 but is currently on sale through Avon for a mere $25. As scents bought smell unsniffed go, not a bad price point. However if you know someone who sells Avon you can, and should, get your hands on a sample.

I'm sure any of you that have looked in the general direction of any news source this week know that L.A. is experiencing some pretty serious wild fire right now -- over 140,000 acres and counting. The area I'm in is fine, but it's a pretty terrifying experience to look up into the sky and see haze from the massive smoke, not to mention the homes burned and the people injured and killed, plus the thousands more at risk. So cross your fingers and toes that we get some relief down here. Living here right now, between the temperature and the fires, more or less resembles living on the surface of the sun.

"So don't delay. Act now. Supplies are running out.
Allow, if you're still alive, six to eight years to arrive.
And if you follow, there may be a tomorrow.
But if the offer's shunned,
you might as well be walkin' on the sun..."
- "Walking on the Sun," Smash Mouth