Hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks...

A Review of Caron Tubéreuse Parfum

Apparently I was on a tuberose kick when I raided my scent stash last week for things to try, because the next thing I grabbed was Caron Tubéreuse parfum. I actually have quite a few of the Caron scents since I grabbed the house sampler last year from Luckyscent, but I haven't really reviewed many of them, have I? Today seems like a good day to rectify that.

Or....not.

Caron describes Tubéreuse as follows:

Caron's latest "fountain" creation, TUBEREUSE was conceived of in 2003 by in-house perfumer Richard FRAYSSE.

A hint of Fressia [sic] and jasmine accentuated by a touch of acidity lend Tubéreuse a rich and opulent fragrance, aimed in particular at CARON's glamour-seeking clientele.

Accords: Tuberose….

A little moldy open grave smell....

Caron Tubéreuse has it fans. Noses in the know have used words such as “bombshell,” “audaciously beautiful rich,” and “a hidden gem” to refer to the scent. Sadly reader, I am not going to be one of them. Nope. For when I put it on my skin, all I could think was: Oh Caron... Why did you do this to a tuberose?

The opening was a mix of vinegar and black tar, that fell straight down into an open grave filled with grape Kool-Aid and the bloated corpses of a hundred earth worms that overdosed from the flavored drink sugar high. Then even the interesting “Death comes a'knocking” aspects drifted off, leaving me with a powdery, dry scratch and sniff version of a white flower.

When it was weird, I was sort of distracted, disoriented, and even intrigued. Could I possibly wear this? Who would wear this? Did the perfumer take their inspiration from a terrible nineteenth century pickle factory fire where women and children were trapped in a terrific blaze that ultimately lead to some sort of Safer Work Conditions for Picklers Labor Reform Act?

But the dry powdery scent it settled into is somehow worse for the comparison. And for something I might describe as quiet and unassuming, good golly Miss Molly, the sillage! I had it on the back of my hands and felt like I had giant boxing gloves of scent around them, like sci-fi created orbs. I would be able to use this combat enhancement to knock people down without actually touching them for days!

While I am loathed to ever give such a bad review, I just have to. You know why, dear reader?

This was a scrubber.

...a little faux grape
 flavoring...

Yeah, I'm not kidding. I couldn't take it! After an hour, which I had to force myself through, I had to get it off my skin, even if steel wool was required. And I felt kind of terrible about it, because lots of people with noses I really respect like Caron Tubéreuse.

I was somewhat comforted to find I am not alone in having Caron Tubéreuse go sideways on me. Abigail at I Smell Therefore I Am described her experience as smelling “like dill pickles.” Chantal-Hélène Wagner of The Scented Salamander more charitably describes it as taking "the dark side of Lady Caron's tuberose and plays Lady Macbeth to the first, minus the signs of madness as it seems on the contrary to have an exceptional measure of self-control.” Of course, she goes on to describe it as being “slightly putrid, like stale water and vase.”

Lady MacBeth, indeed. I really enjoy Lady Caron, so I'll try to get a review on that one in for comparison soon. For me, though, I have to say that if you're out to shop tuberoses, be careful with this one. Maybe you're get an overly devoted wife; maybe you'll get a crazy lady who can't stop seeing blood on her hands.

Luckyscent has Caron Tubéreuse for 7.5ml for $100. Yep, you read that right. One hundred smackers for a mere 7.5 milliliters. Given the above, I can only endorse you trying a sample, which is $5. Perhaps you will love it. If not, better to find that out with the very small dab of a wand.

“Muscle to muscle and toe to toe
The fear has gripped me but here I go
My heart sinks as I jump up
Your hand grips hand as my eyes shut...
Please don't go, I'll eat you whole
I love you so, I love you so, I love you so.”
~ “Breezeblocks,” Alt-J

Want a more positive spin on Caron Tubéreuse than I am able to muster? Try...
~ A review from Pink Manhattan
~ A review from Bois de Jasmin
~ A review from aperfumeblog
~ A review from The Black Narcissus
~ A review from Robin at Now Smell This!
~ A review from Eiderdown Press


Photo of open grave: Some rights reserved by A QUIVERFUL OF FOTOS
Photo of grape soda: Some rights reserved by D Sharon Pruitt of Pink Sherbet Photography

I know you're late for your next parade.

My birthday is this week and I already got my first present, which was a Fresh Sugar Kisses Mini-Lip Duo from Sephora as part of my membership. Yes, I'm counting that. I love going and getting my free gift, and no, I don't care that it's a trap to get me into the store in the first place. You know what I say to that? "Pop, pop!" FN1.

I also bought myself the Caron sampler pack at Luckyscent, and a few other things I'll be telling you about soon. I'm thinking about getting one of the London Blooms LEs from Jo Malone, so I'll probably have something about those up this week.  I stopped at a counter last week and I can't stop thinking about the Peony & Moss one...

Yesterday at work one of my fellow cubemonkeys brought in a T-Pain mike which autotunes your voice for our boss to use during the staff meeting since she can't talk loud enough for everyone to hear. I don't know what was weirder: that he did it, or that she proceeded to use it. But I digress...

The tulip heads are struggling to emerge on the Hill, despite us having some ice and snow the last couple of days. For the last twelve years, I've known Spring was on the verge of arrival by watching for those tulip shoots. I don't know what I'll be watching this time next year, but I do have a list of scents I will be wearing into the hope of seasonal renewal.

Newly added to the list? Providence Perfumes Co. Hindu Honeysuckle is described as being "From India With Love... Revered for its lush aroma, honeysuckle symbolizes generosity and kindness. Notes of sweet Indian Jasmine Sambac meld with green vetivert, musk ambrette, rose and coriander. Crisp bergamot belies the sweetness of honeysuckle."

Hindu Honeysuckle is a terrific Spring scent. Not overly sweet, this is a nice rich floral scent. It's almost...lemony at the open on me, surprisingly light and cirtusy for the musk base. It's not at all creamy like some of the other honeysuckles I've tried and there is nothing foodie sweet about it. Instead it is reminds me of the feeling of playing on your back against the warm ground as crystalline sunlight falls through the tender leaves of newly budding trees across your face. What I like most is the tartness; it manages to be lemony floral without smelling like astringent or cleaner. I think for me what saves it is the heavy warmth of the musk. A truly fine warmer weather scent, somehow delicate and still strong. Sillage is low to moderate on me, and the longevity was fantastic! I could still smell it on my skin eight hours later.

Available direct from the perfumer, you can get 1oz (33 ml) for $115.00 or a 6ml travel atomizer for $26.00. Samples also available and recommended. 3.5 of 5 nods.

~ ~ ~

Another surprising spring scent? slumberhouse Sana. I was thinking of it just last weekend when I was driving around the Oregon Coast in the freezing rain and loving every minute of it.

If you’ve ever listened to Rachel’s “Selenography” while driving through the crushingly scenic roads that wind through the woods along the Oregon coast late at night you’ll have an idea of the things that inspired Sana. Absolutely gender neutral (though I like to imagine the right woman wearing this), Sana is an atmospheric perfume that revolves around a chord of tagetes syrup, fir balsam and suede. Behind this is an ethereal smattering of magnolia, thorns, honey, red raspberry leaf absolute and sweet birch.

The open smells strong of a medicinal sticky wood resin and dry pencil shavings.  There's something else almost peppery.  I didn't get an honey, really, but a lot of thorns and birch and a little bit of magnolia.  The red raspberry leaf, if you get any, should come in as this faint sweet highlight.  At least it did for me and only when I was mentally looking for it.  It is a strange and lovely scent, but not traditionally oceanic or beachy at all.  Keep that in mind when you try it.  Still, for me it reminds of the cold wet Spring of woods of coastal Oregon, which was strange and lovely. Low sillage on me, Sana wore close to the skin for 4-6 hours.  3 of 5 nods.

Sana is available here 30ml for $75.00. Samples also available.

What are you smelling for spring my lovelies? Has any warmth hit your climes yet? What do you think I should get for my birthday?

"Time.
Thought I'd make friends with time.
Thought we'd be flying.
Maybe not this time.
Baker, baker, baking a cake.
Make me a day; make me whole again."
~ "Baker, Baker," Tori Amos

__________________
FN1. Is anyone else really excited Community returns to NBC on March 15?

Six seasons and a movie!

Too Much Love Will Kill You.

Is there such a thing as “too much of a good thing”?

Sure there is. I myself have eaten that last sushi roll or that last inch of sour patch rope, and thought, “I chose…poorly.” I’ve decided to stay in bed those last few minutes that move you from “barely on time” to “definitely late for work.” I’ve stayed in the shower those extra ten minutes, running the hot water just enough that you run out at the last minute and are freezing and tense instead of relaxed when you cut the water off and get out. I’ve taken on too many good opportunities at once until I didn’t have the time and energy for any of them. I’ve gone for that final third round on Space Mountain that moves your slightly tipsy disco ball delight to oh-lord-why-did-I-have-that-fourth-tequila-shot?

In short, I’ve done excess and known the regret of it. And that is what I think of, every time I see someone posting about “pairing down their collection” or “giving up all but their favorites” or “cleaning out their perfume cabinet.”

Have I got too much perfume? Have I gone too far? Do I really appreciate the perfume I have? Do I really want or need more? FN1. Would some of it be better off in someone else’s hands, someone else’s home, where it might be better appreciated? That is the sentiment that stayed my hand Saturday night when I looked at my bank account, looked at my computer, and then thought, “Okay, let’s go shopping!” As I began looking through my options – limited editions here, sales over there, decants verses bottles, samples verses either, the list of things I thought I wanted, the list of things I’ve got – I was haunted by the thought that maybe I had enough already.

Tonight in the car Rafaela, who has never been subjected to a stroll through Diana’s perfume collection, asked me how many bottles I had. I don’t know, I responded immediately. But you must have some idea, she pressed. You were just telling me that you redid your inventory spreadsheet today.

Truthfully, though, I didn’t know. I hadn’t bothered to look. Hell, I hadn’t even finished updating my excel file. I’d only made it through bottles, not decants or minis, and certainly not through samples, which remains untackled. Somewhere, somehow, I genuinely lost count of my perfume.

So tonight, I counted.

85 bottles. EIGHTY-FIVE. And this is genuine “this is not our sample size, you are buying some larger quantity of this perfume” bottles, which does not even include Demeters. Minis and decants? Another seventy-four. Samples? Back in September it was over 500, and I know that number is a measurable quantity larger now, but my recatalogue is not yet complete. This doesn’t count the two bottles or handful of samples I did finally order Saturday night, or the samples headed my way for review, or the bottle I gave away to LillieMae just because she liked it and I had more than enough. FN2.

Yet, I feel like I’ve only dipped a toe into the wide world of beautiful perfumes out there to smell. For example, I haven’t ever smelled Chanel No. 19. I think I’ve tried maybe three Le Labos, and none of them were the location restricted ones. My familiarity with Creed and Serge Lutens is (in my opinion) wafer thin. For every Caron or Goutal or Worth or Guerlain I have tried, there are four or five I haven’t. I haven’t tried nearly enough from Aftelier Perfumes or Frederic Malle or so many others I can’t think of right now.

But looking at my collection, I couldn’t deny it. I have a ton of perfume, and yet, I feel I owe it to myself to keep trying all the beautiful scents out there to try. But I knew I crossed a certain perfumey line when LillieMae was loving a particular perfume and, without hesitating, I gave her the bottle. I remembered the day Angela from Now Smell This! did the same things for me, handing off a bottle of S-Perfume %100 Love without batting an eyelash. She knew I’d get more out of it, and I did. I have almost finished the bottle. So maybe this is also the beginning of a new phase, a phase where I not only continue to explore perfume, but start to focus my collection, creating something that isn’t just a bunch of random perfume, but a beautiful wardrobe and art collection, so that I better appreciate what I have and some lovely perfume gets a more appreciative home.

So welcome to our season of spring discernment at Feminine Things, both perfume related and more broadly. I feel strangely excited about it. I hope you do, too.

___________________________
FN1. Okay, I always want more. Instead it’s a question of whether I should buy more and do I already have more than I know what to do with.

FN2. Because I know you people: I bought samples from DSH Perfumes and JoAnne Bassett. I would have bought some from Ayala Moriel Natural Perfumes but the site order system wasn’t cooperating; I bought a bottle of L’Artisan Dzongkha from the sale; and slumberhouse Mur from IndieScents because I am apparently probably their biggest fan, and I bought it in anticipation of warmer days ahead.

Editor's note: I got the loveliest follow-up email from Ayala herself, apologizing about the web difficulties and welcoming me back.  Not only was it the sweetest thing, it also completely underestimated my willingness to walk through fire for perfume as good as hers. :)

She says, "A girl needs a gun these days on account of the rattlesnakes."

Caron Tabac Blond parfum

Jodie wears a hat although it hasn't rained for six days...

It was hot. Incredibly hot. It was so hot that Jodie couldn’t actually remember what water tasted like, even as she drank from her canteen. Wiping her mouth against the back of her handkerchief-wrapped hand, she wondered if this summer was ever going to break. Late September already, but it felt like mid-July, with Montana seemingly hellbent on riding the year out in a relentless heat wave.

Rolling her head back against her shoulders, she sighed and gazed out across the hills, squinting to make out stray cattle as the air rose in a haze off the dirt and dead grass. The herd was restless. Too little rain meant too little food and water, which meant cranky livestock. And less money come the end of drive season, but she wouldn’t think of that now.

Readjusting in her saddle, she nudged her horse gently and they began a lazy gallop toward the highest concentration of tiny black dots etched against the horizon.

. . . . . . .

It's hard for me to peg Caron Tabac Blond. It's such a classic scent. It's ninety-one years old, for goodness sake, and therefore possible that I am, right now, wearing a scent Meangus, my grandmother, and Mother Nanny and Ain't Lee (my great grandmother/great aunt), could have also worn. (For the record, everyone in my bio-family is known primarily by some crazy nickname straight out of a Southern Gothic novel because we are, in fact, that southern. Also, trust me that no one in my family ever actually wore Tabac Blond. They were WAY too poor. Like holes-in-their-shoes, a-single-piece-of-fruit-for-Christmas, no-indoor-plumbing-or-reliable-electricity-until-the-1970s kind of poor.) So I put it on, and I try to imagine them wearing it, or women contemporary wearing it. But I just don't see it.

Then I try to picture it as it historically might have been created, in the context of the story that Caron likes to tell on their website:

To mark the dawn of feminine liberation, CARON made the bold move in 1919 of dedicating a deliberately provocative perfume to the beautiful androgynous women of the era, with their long ivory and mother-of-pearl cigarette-holders poised nonchalantly between their lips.

Tabac Blond: a subtly ambiguous fragrance that borrows the leathery head notes from the world of masculine fragrance, and combines them with Caron's inimitable floral bouquet...

Accords: Leather, Iris, Cedar...

So I try to imagine these women with rouged cheeks and knees and their short hair in pin curls and waves, with bright lipstick and loud talking, hiding bootlegged hooch in flasks inside the garters of their hosiery, driving cars and giving their properly raised mothers fainting fits, in a sort of post-first-wave feminist version of "shock and awe" warfare. But when I smell Tabac Blond, I don't get that either.

No, I've tried Tabac Blond (the parfum version), several times now and the Texan in me cannot stop thinking about the female barrel racers at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo that I was dragged to several times a year each and *every* year until I was about ten. I may be a Left Coast liberal now, but there is a deeply ingrained Texas girl in me who loves a good rodeo, and tell you *exactly* what a livestock show and carnival smells like (hint: it's not a great mix, really), and who CANNOT be confronted by leather and not think of saddles and chaps and cowboys and cowgirls.

In my world, Tabac Blond is the smell of a well-worn saddle, worked supple by continual contact with strong sweaty hands and thighs. It's the smell of sweat from physically demanding activity, on the part of the rider and the steed, spent in the pursuit of a hard day's work. It starts out soft and quiet, but then roars to strength as it blends with the wearer's skin, warmed by what folks used to refer to as "making an honest living." It smells expensive, but in a durable way, like something of value that takes a long time to earn and therefore gets deserved care. It's not flashy or ostentatious; it's not a party. If you know country music, then let me tell you it's less about Garth Brook's "Rodeo" and more about Michael Burton's "Night Rider's Lament." (Note: This version of Night Rider's Lament is actually sung by a female vocalist who tried to adapt it for a cowgirl's perspective.) This isn't about the "roar of the Sunday crowd;" this is riding for short pay and getting nowhere and losing your share because you don't know how to live any other way. To me, even more than say, Tauer Perfumes Lonestar Memories, which feels much more high-falutin', Tabac Blond is a Louie L'Amour book, a John Wayne marathon featuring The Searchers, a quintessential longing for a open-ranged American West declared officially closed in 1890 and that was never as romantic as we like to imagine in the first place, a place of wide-open land and skies and freedom and isolation and the thrill of all of that. A place of exploration and discovery, where the understood motto was "Don't Fence Me In." In a word, Tabac Blond is iconic.

It's just not the icon Caron ever intended.

According to Angela at Now Smell This!, Luca Turin once described Tabac Blond as "dykey and angular and dark and totally unpresentable." But if you're idea of proper womanhood is a sort of classic European grand dame, then perhaps "totally unpresentable" is exactly the way I like to think of Tabac Blond. Then again, I like dirt and rodeos and cowgirls like Jodie. By Turin standards, I'm probably fairly unpresentable, too.

I should note that the parfum I'm trying is, I think, post the much lamented reformulation. I received it in 2007, and I don't think it was a vintage sample, which everyone says is better. I don't know the difference, frankly, and I love what I have, so I don't really care.

You can buy Caron Tabac Blond in 100ml EdP spray for £160(~$242) from Escentual.com (British site -- watch the shipping). You can get the pure parfum in much smaller quantities (say 7.5ml) for similar prices. You can get a sample of the pure parfum from The Perfumed Court for $7 if you just want to try it. I hear that if you buy it in quantity from the Caron Boutique in NYC the price point goes down as the quantity goes up. I, for one, will probably be saving up to buy a bottle of it eventually, just like I did with Iris Pallida. It's one of those things where the ridiculous expense is, at least for me, totally worth the experience.

"She looks like Eve Marie Saint in 'On the Waterfront'
as she reads Simone de Beauvoir in her American circumstance.
Her heart's like crazy paving, upside down and back to front.
She says 'Oh, it's so hard to love
when love was your great disappointment.'"
- "Rattlesnakes," Tori Amos (You can see a video featuring the song here)

Given that it's a classic, everyone has something to say about Tabac Blond. Try...
~ A review from Perfume Shrine
~ A review from Angela at Now Smell This!
~ A review from Bois de Jasmin
~ A review from Perfume-Smellin' Things
~ A review from Pere de Pierre
~ A review from I Smell Therefore I Am
~ A review from Yesterday's Perfume
~ A review from Confessions of a Perfume Nerd
~ A review from SmellyBlog
~ A review from Scent Hive
~ A nice piece by Victoria at Suite101
~ A review from Perfume Projects

Images from Caron and The Stoecklein Collection.