A week of Demeter Fragrance Library Reviews, with a Twist

Reviewing perfumes that veer toward ultra-realism is tough because if it’s done right, it smells like the platonic ideal of the thing it’s supposed to smell like. If it’s done badly, well, it smells nothing like the thing you think it should. So it’s tricky, reviewing ultra-realist perfumes. I think Christopher Brosius takes a good tack on the expectation game by telling the consumer the story of what he thinks the scent smells like. It creates a scent from his memory, which means it isn’t necessarily going to be yours.

Demeter Fragrance Library goes the other direction by asserting the thing is what it says it is (for the most part). Salt air is supposed to be salt air; vinyl exactly what the name says in the title. This is a risky maneuver on Demeter’s part, because if the first scent of theirs you try smells like you think it should, then you’re sold on the line, and much more forgiving of the miss here and there based on that first bull’s eye. If that first try is a miss, though, you may dismiss the line completely.

Luckily for Demeter, I never give up on the first try.

This isn’t say that that Grass, which I reviewed here, is a bad scent. It’s not even to suggest it doesn’t smell like cut grass. It mostly does. However, there’s another aspect floating around in there that makes it not quite grass. I liked the experience, but Grass, well it wasn’t the droid I was looking for.

Because these scents are, for the most part, what they purport to be, I'm taking a different tact this week.  I'll tell you what the scent is like when worn, though that part will be mostly self-explanatory.  I'll also tell you a story.  Sniffing some of these scents evokes the idea of a place or circumstance  so strongly, you just find you want to write about it. Thus I decided I would.  This week you get a handful of short fiction/perfume reviews, courtesy of Demeter and my crazy brain.

I hope you find it entertaining.

~ People Who Don’t Know Nothin’ ‘bout Hurricanes Call Us Crazy - A story inspired by Demeter Fragrance Library Salt Air.
~ Jen Says. - A story inspired by Demeter Fragrance Library Dregs.
~ Lucky. - A story inspired by Demeter Fragrance Library Fresh Hay.
~ Mrs. LaClette's Roses - A story inspired by Demeter Fragrance Library Pruning Shears.
~ The First Ozarkiana State Fair and Barbed Beecue Competition - A story inspired by Demeter Fragrance Library Mesquite.

And she was lying in the grass, and she could hear the highway breathing.

Scent Spotlight: Demeter Fragrance Libary Grass, also PRIZE DRAW and head-to-head scent delivery method comparison.

In case you missed it, we've been experiencing some technical difficulties here at Feminine Things, which are hopefully now resolved. Also, life has been crazy, with the moving twice and being short staffed at work. But enough about the bad; let's focus on the good in life. And in my world? That means the perfume.

I bring you a strange challenge today. I was talking on twitter to Victoria and Carrie (and I think Gaia as well) about Demeter Fragrance line. I love the CB I Hate Perfume line, and Demeter is Christopher Brosius' former employer. I had never tried Demeter scents and, given the low price point, asked what people thought before I went nuts about bought 10-15 of them unsniffed. The general response from the tubes – great scents but not terribly long lasting, better suited for room sprays than perfumes.

Considering my purchases and related powers of acquisition, I noticed in my dithering of do-I-or-don’t-I that Demeter added a perfume oil version available in a rollerball. Would a perfume oil last longer, as advertised, and fix the major criticism of the line? Or perhaps the alcohol based spray or splash was fine, but needed the spray-until-wet technique I learned from Mals at Muse in Wooden Shoes? Only one way to find out.

So I did exactly what any truly insane perfumista would do – bought the same scent twice in both forms.

Yes, that’s right. I couldn’t buy two different scents because I wouldn’t truly be able to tell if the scent lasted longer because it was stronger or I noticed it more or the method of scent delivery (oil roll on vs. alcohol spray) was the better choice. Nope, the only option was two buy two bottles of the same scent. I managed to pick up a 15ml cologne splash for $6 and the 8.8ml roll-on for $10, so for a whopping $16 plus shipping, I got my mad wish, though I admit that the entire over-the-top endeavor is probably inspired by my most recent Top Gear binge.

Random thoughts about grass...

After scrolling through the extensive list of Demeter scents and considering everything from Basil to Birthday Cake to Salt Air to Mulled Cider, I finally settled on, of all things, Demeter Grass. FN1. Yes, Grass. What can I say? It’s summer and I love a good freshly mowed lawn. The description, which is lengthy, is as follows:

Playing in it.......lying on it......or even mowing it....Grass smells wonderful. Centipede grass, the most widely used lawn grass in the southeast United States, has something of a romantic history. Around 1918, the U.S. Department of Agriculture sent a Dr. Meyer, a plant explorer, to China in search of plants that might be economically useful. Tragically, before his return home Chinese bandits killed Dr. Meyer. His suitcases arrived in the U.S. where a collection of seeds was found, including a packet of Chinese centipede grass seeds. That packet of seed was sent to a USDA experimental station near Savannah, Georgia. In the early 1920's, Jack Renfroe took four sprigs of the grass to his father, Mr. Riley Renfroe, who had a 400 acre farm near Quitman. Three of those sprigs survived and were planted in a pasture. In 1950, Ray Jensen, a soil scientist for the USDA, visited the Renfroe farm to make a soil survey. Although 96 years old, Mr. Riley Renfroe wanted to accompany Jensen on the survey. That evening the two settled down to a wonderful southern dinner and that is when the story of the centipede grass on the Renfroe farm was told. Ray Jensen had just finished building his home on 20th Street in Tifton, Georgia. Mr. Renfroe insisted he take a pickup load home with him for his yard, where Jensen planted all the grass. The following year Jensen contracted Mr. Renfroe to produce centipede seed from the 40 acre pasture he had developed from just three live sprigs of the Chinese grass. Ray Jensen had a vision to produce and sell this wonderful grass and seed and offer it as a foundation to southern homes and businesses. From China to Washington, DC, to Savannah to Quitman to Tifton, to the entire southeast and beyond, from one small packet of seed and three live sprigs, today centipede grass can be found on lawns and ornamental turf areas around the world. In Demeter’s Grass Pick-Me-Up Cologne, we have captured the freshness and sweetness of a lush green grass pasture, much like the pasture that Mr. Riley Renfroe planted with centipede grass from those three live springs over 80 years ago.

...contained in footnotes below.

First let’s talk about the scent. I grew up playing and lazying about on those fabled lawns of the American South and I know that smell, so familiar it plays on repeat in the memory of summer when I think about my life. As a ‘grass’ scent, let me say this – the scent itself is wonderful. It does smell like fresh cut grass, but less like the real deal spread between the fingers of your outstretched hand and more like an intense sculpture of grass, or like a wild Van Gogh-esque painting of fresh grass. It is a very sweet grass, and almost has a little bit of a soapy edge, but is really quite beautiful. My friend, Kate, said she thought it was more like clover, and I can see that.  For someone who wasn’t sure if they liked scent, or thought all scents were too “perfumey” this might make a good offering, though I can also see some critique of the scent reminding folks of a clothes detergent, as I suspect that this is what they’re always aiming for when they aim for grass or nature scents. I also want to say that this isn't so much real grass as the intense experience of grass, like grass as one might imagine experiencing it on a perception altering substance. FN2. I give the scent itself a solid 3.5 to 4 nods for originality and closeness to reality.

But to the more important question, in a head-to-head scent off, which lasts longer – perfume oil or alcohol splash, and how long is that, exactly? Here are my totally subjective findings.

The cologne splash lasted longer than the perfume oil on me, though when I first applied them, the oil was stronger on my skin. The dry down between the two, at least for Grass, was virtually identical, so you’re going to get the same ride either way. The cologne splash lasted a little over five hours in the slightest lingering, slightly longer than others warned me. The oil lasted even less than that, only about three and a half hours, which really surprised me, particularly when it started out so much stronger. Either way, a disappointingly short skin life.

Hmmm... grass...

Just to give it a last run, I took the splash and stuck some in a sprayer, then sprayed until wet, and that got me to almost seven hours, though it was very weak by then, and you’d go through a bottle pretty fast to use that much. Plus, it sprays on so wet you’d need to apply it before getting dressed so it didn’t run all into your clothes. In other words, it takes work to make it last, and even then it’s not a scent you'll still be catching whiffs of at the end of a full day.

So is it worth it? Well, I guess that depends. On the one hand, the scents aren’t going to last long in any iteration. On the other hand – so cheap and so many options! And on the gripping hand, some days you don’t want to wear the same scent for your morning and your evening plans, and in those cases this is a fine option. For a mere $18 you could go through three scents in one day. I don’t recommend the line for those looking for a ‘signature scent,’ but for those who like to play with scent wardrobe, for the price of one $60 scent, you can have ten completely different ones here. That makes them not only a fun addition to my extensive collection, but a great source for assuaging impulse shopping and stocking stuffers.

Which brings me, finally, to this: Your August prize draw. A bit late, sure, but here nonetheless. Winner gets my extra roller ball of Demeter Grass, a $10 gift certificate to Demeter Fragrances which is almost enough to buy you a 15ml cologne splash of your choosing and cover shipping within the U.S. (sorry, international readers, you’ll have to pay a little more for the shipping) and of course, a mix CD made by yours truly.

To enter, go to the Demeter Fragrance site (which is not AT ALL attractive, but at least appeals to the utilitarian in me), look through the list, and tell me what you might buy if you win!

Open to all readers anywhere, and very excited to hear your thoughts.

To enter please post by: 12:01AM, Monday, August 22, 2011 Pacific Standard Time.

"And she was drifting through the backyard...
And she was taking off her dress...
And she was moving very slowly...
Rising up above the earth...
Moving into the universe, and she's
Drifting this way and that...
Not touching ground at all, and she's
Up above the yard...
and she was."
"And She Was," Talking Heads

______________________________
FN1. I actually changed my mind so many times that I would have sworn to you with the delivered box unopened and in hand that I'd bought Salt Air, because I love going to the beach and do that a lot during the summers here, but apparently I changed my mind at the last minute. I think I decided I had a lot of 'beachy' scents already. I honestly don't remember. Now that I've been convinced it was coming, though, I want it. And I did just get paid today...

FN2. Not that I would know anything about that. It just seems that way, like when you look at a Van Gogh and you think, "Whatever he was on must have been wonderful!" or look at a HR Giger and think, "Holy Jesus, keep whatever he was taking away from me!"

I bet David Lynch could even make this
creepy...oh, wait! He did! In Blue Velvet!

FN3. I just want to make a note that there are a creepily large number of photos that turn up when you google image search "girl laying on grass" or even "person laying on grass" and you can make out the individual's identity in every one. Apparently artsy shots of obscured human figures on grass are not common, and now that I think about it, would probably come out looking sinister in a Lynch-esque way.

FN4. The Demeter description reminded me. I had this friend once who did her thesis on the history of the American lawn and how it's basically an environmental catastrophe as well as a socio-cultural catastrophe since its inception in the 1950s, single family homes destroying urban centers, creating horrible gridlock, and social isolation for women of the Feminine Mystique variety. It made sense, but also made me a little sad. In the way I tend to festishize small town Americana, I do love a good village green...

FN5. Does anyone else think the invention of astroturf was basically a one of the plastics/petroleum industry's most horrible ideas? Like terrible bad?

FN6. Ditto for golf courses? Does anyone else start ranting about how much they hate golf courses every time they drive by one?

FN7. Who knew I had so many thoughts about grass, lawns, and grass/lawn-related things?

I do this thing where I think I'm real sick but I won't go to the doctor to find out about it.

Perfume Challenge Week 26: Monday, 7/11/11, to Friday, 7/15/11

Where I'm heading...

26 weeks, people! TWENTY SIX WEEKS! I've made it halfway through my 2011 challenge. Wow. 118 scents reviewed this year so far. That's a lot of sniffing,
and a whole lot more to go.

Leaving in a few hours for Houston. It's going to be in the high 90s with over 70% humidity in Houston, so I've been desperately trying to figure out what I can take with me that will work with the hot weather and help me with my damaged calm. So far I'm thinking of taking Jo Malone Fresh Mint Leaf, CB I Hate Black March (a comfort scent for me because it smells like my PNW home), and Chanel CoCo Mademoiselle. What would you suggest, if you could pack my a perfume kit for me for my weekend trip?

Monday: CB I Hate Perfume Winter 1972 - A field of untouched new fallen snow, hand knit woolen mittens covered with frost, a hint of frozen forest & sleeping earth.

A colder, icier version of CB I Hate Perfume Black March. Dirt, leaves, fresh snow. All icey blues and deep piney greens. I wish there had been more wet wool in it; it would have been better if it had been a deeper scratchier scent. Instead its a little bit iris-y, which is nice, but I prefer both Black March and Wild Hunt to this one. 3 of 5 nods.

Tuesday: Borsari Violetta di Parma - Notes: Violet, Rose, Muguet, Orris, Jasmine, Heliotrope, Hyacinth, Vetiver, Musk, Vanilla.

Oh, I like this scent! The overly sweet edge burns off almost immediately and this is not a soapy violet. It's got a lovely tea-like quality, but with an undercurrent of sweet of the vanilla balanced against the musk and vetiver. A great violette if you want a gentle and balanced violet, especially if youre looking for something lovely *and* reasonably priced. 4 of 5 nods.

Wednesday: Parfums Delrae Emotionnelle - A sophisticated but sensual fruity floral. It begins with notes of melon, tangerine, bergamot and ylang-ylang which add transparency, freshness, and a certain mouthwatering quality. Eau Emotionelle has beautiful floral heart notes of violet, jasmine and roses and finishes on a base of cedarwood, vetiver, clove and amber.

Oh melon, you and I do not have a good relationship. You always smell to me like something biological development has warned me against eating by making it bitter and unpleasant to the taste. The bitterness is a sign you should not swallow; it may be poisonous. It disappears after about half an hour, but blech, I'm totally ruined by then. Melon notes -- you are my sniffa kyrptonite. I'm not even going to rate this, since I'm totally biased by my melon hatred.

Thursday: Laura Mercier Violette - A delicate and sophisticated fragrance that is inspired by the delicate violet flower. Notes: violet leaves, black currant, mimosa, peony, vetiver, musk and raspberry.

Hello, sweet and fruity violet. No tea here, this is a much more floral and fruity violet, an edible styling. The vetiver and musk are quite strong, and that's the source of the underneath warmth instead of the normal soapiness you get with violets. I remember trying this ove a year ago and not loving it, but now I really do. It seems more multifloral than solifloral, but not quite floral enough for multifloral, so it comes off as kind of muddy, thematically, and as a spray rather than a dabber, I suspect it could be strong enough to crank up the volume, but not necessarily blow the doors off. Sadly discontinued, but still findable online at a really reasonable price. 3.5 of 5 nods.

Friday: Serge Lutens Fleurs de Citronnier - Serge Lutens celebrates spring with Fleurs de Citronnier. This perfume belongs to oriental olfactive group and it expands our knowledge about it by its freshness and gentleness. Lutens has used only rare materials of high quality, as always. Notes: Lemon blossom, petitgrain, neroli, white honey, iris, several sorts of musk and styrax resin.

My preferred weather...

If you might sniff this and your immediate reaction is "very light Aquanet?", I urge you to smell past that. This is an interestingly dry and light scent, and the harsh lemon edge burns off almost immediately, so that the citrus is much more gentle than you might expect. The middle is a lovely blend of lemon blossom, neroli, very light iris, and mild honey. The mixture results in a more complex neroli scent that is both more floral and more foodie than an orange blossom solifloral. After about an hour its a soft sweet resin and musk scent that I enjoy for the sheer niceness of it.

I agree with Robin that this is more a cool day neroli than a hot summer day scent. I think it's the coziness of the honey. Either way, it's lovely. I think I'll add it to my fall season buy list. 4 of 5 nods.


Winner of the Week: I think I'll give it to Serge Lutens Fleurs de Citronnier, though it's a close call because I think Borsari Violetta di Parma makes a nicer warm weather scent, but Serge Lutens Fleurs de Citronnier is a nier scent for cooler days, which we tend to have more of here. And let's face it, I just want it to be cooler all the time anyway.

"Oh, you're almost home. I've been waiting for you to come in.
Dancing around in your old suits going crazy in your room again.
I think I'll go out an embarrass myself by getting drunk and falling down in the street.
You say I choose sadness that it never once has chosen me.
Maybe you're right..."
~ "The Good That Won't Come Out," Rilo Kiley

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.

Turkey for me, turkey for you...

CB I Hate Perfume M#3 November

When I think of November, I think of the beginning of the holidays. For me, that has always meant three things: food, family, and friends. Aside from one very lonely Thanksgiving I spent sitting in a dorm room, eating Doritos, and watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade by myself, I have spent every November focused on a day of coming together with people I loved. As I've mentioned before, I really enjoy the holidays, and thus I am always looking for scents that remind me of the holidays.

M#3 November is another creation of Christopher Brosius and part of (much beloved by me) the CB I Hate Perfume line. Brosius describes the inspiration for M#3 November, in part, as follows:

For decades November depressed me. As the year died away, I too longed for warm green grass, long summer evenings spent with friends outdoors and the sight of fireflies twinkling in the woods. the days became shorter and colder and i would become more and more gloomy. This feeling would never really leave me until the first snow fell. Sometimes that was a long wait...

But I have learned to embrace November and find comfort in the beauty of decay. I have come to realize the warmth I long for is still there - but it has taken other forms and it has changed just as I have. Change is inevitable and although I am still sometimes sad as the fall deepens, I know there is much to look forward to. The coming snow will being the warmth of family and friends.

So now on rain chilled November afternoons, I am content to sit quietly and wait...

The scent is supposedly to be an amalgamation of the scents of "Pumpkin Pie, Fallen Apples, Bonfire, Wood Smoke, Dried Grass, Fallen Leaves, Wet Branches, Damp Moss, Chanterelle Mushrooms and a hint of Pine Forest." All these scents, layered together, obviously make up the many days of November, with its weather and holidays and foods. But the amazing thing, to me, is that I smell my own special November scents in M#3 November, some of them the same and some of them the creation of my own mind and nose.

To me, M#3 November is a magical scent that embodies all things holiday. In my mind, when I sniff at M#3 November it smells like the first snow of winter. It's dry like snow, fresh like fir trees, and sweet like Christmas cookies, lightly toasted coconut on macaroons. After about ten minutes, there are hints of spiced cider and sprigs of spearmint. Two hours in, I get a little sweet chimney smoke, the way the night smells the first cold snap of the year, when everyone lights their chimneys up to keep warm.

You can buy the M#3 November for $75 in either 15ml perfume absolute or 100ml water perfume direct from the perfumer. You can also get samples from the CB website or from The Perfumed Court.

"Let's eat the turkey in my big brown shoe.
Love to eat the turkey at the table.
I once saw a movie with Betty Grable..."
- "The Thanksgiving Song," Adam Sandler

Again, the only reviews I could find were a bunch of short reviews from Luckyscent users.

Images from CB I Hate Perfume and BlogGreen.

Put up the tree before my spirit falls again.

CB I Hate Perfume the Fir Tree

“Fill up the stocking,
I may be rushing things,
but deck the halls again now.…”

Last night I was at Target and I noticed that on top of the copious Halloween decorations and the random fall themed Thanksgiving décor, the winter holiday decorations have already hit the shelves. Yes, yes. I know that, in some ways, this is just another manifestation of our gross consumerism, meant to be loathed by any right thinking person. Yes, Christmas has largely been stripped of any deeper meaning of love, generosity, faith, and spirit by secular, commercial culture. I get it. Really.

But from the time I was a little girl, I have loved Christmas and truly believed it to be a magical time of year. I believe there is such a thing as Christmas magic, and even in the face of anecdotal and statistical data that suggests otherwise, I like to believe everyone is happier during the holidays. I have tons of holiday decorations and a collection of gift wrap that would definitely underline the commercial aspects. I start Christmas shopping in October every year and send out over 100 holiday cards.

One holiday staple I’ve sort of given up on though is a live tree. For years I had a tiny plastic tree to move around with. No more than two feet tall, it got the job done but couldn’t really handle full sized ornaments. Last year I got my first full sized tree as an adult, but I still got a fake one. It’s a big nice fancy fake one that retails for several hundred dollars (though I got mine much cheaper), but it’s still fake. Because it’s so nice, it looks great and avoids all the mess and hassle of cleaning up falling needles; also I get to feel better about not cutting down a tree every year and can avoid all the guilt associated with the memory of my mother reading me “The Little Fir Tree” at a vulnerable age. The one thing I miss, though, is the wonderful smell of a real tree. I love the smell of real trees. Luckily, I can count on Christopher Brosius to help me out.

The inspiration for CB I Hate Perfume the Fir Tree, which is supposed to smell like “Fir trees in the forest with a touch of frozen earth,” is described by Brosius as follows:

I love the smell of fir trees it is one of my favorite things about winter. Whether in the woods, stacked on city sidewalks for sale in December or, best yet, in one's living room, there is something so refreshing and invigorating about the smell of these trees. It's easy to understand why they symbolize the start of the New Year. Even on the hottest summer day, I can walk in a grove of Fir Trees and feel the cool snowflakes melting on my face.

You might be thinking to yourself, “That’s real nice and all, but who the hell wants to smell like a fir tree?” Apparently, I do. the Fir Tree is an artful fir, spearmint-y, fresh, light, and appealing. This isn’t a knock you down with its strength, reeking-off-a-little-scented-paper-tree-hanging-from-your-rear-view-mirror kind of fir. This is a fir scent meant to be worn with kicky holiday frocks, sprayed around the house before a winter party, or worn while cuddling next to a roaring fire with the one you love. It works well for a man or a woman, has minimal sillage and is very light, so you’ll need to be generous with spraying on the water perfume. That’s okay, though; this one is light enough that it would be hard to over do it. What a nice, cooling fragrance for the winter! Like a dash of peppermint schnapps in your hot chocolate, it’s the perfect accent for the holiday season.

You can buy the Fir Tree for $60 in either 15ml perfume absolute or 100ml water perfume, as well as a 150ml home spray for $40, direct from the perfumer. You can also get samples from the CB website or from The Perfumed Court.

“For we need a little music,
Need a little laughter,
Need a little singing
Ringing through the rafter,
And we need a little snappy
’Happy ever after,’
We need a little Christmas now.”
- “We Need a Little Christmas,” from Jerry Herman’s Mame

Try as I might, I cannot seem to locate more reviews of the Fir Tree. Too bad for you reviewers out there. It’s worth a try.

Images from Wikimedia, & Flickr.

(Note: apparently getting real trees is more environmentally friendly. Did not know that. At least I bought mine used, so I did not increase apparent demand for the fakes. Sigh.)

Just Breath.

CB I Hate Just Breath

Not to be conceited (alert: relatively conceited comment forecoming), but I'm good at a lot of stuff.

You know what I'm not good at, though? Taking care of myself. Saying no when I am overloaded. Staying calm. Generally? Just breathing.

Luckily, to paraphrase iAdvertising, there's a scent for that.

According to Christopher Brosius, Just Breath, originally created exclusively for Marie Claire magazine, "is blended with Bamboo Leaves, Japanese Green Tea, three varieties of Cedarwood, forest and just the merest hint of Incense."

There is only so much you can do in a 24-hour period. Subatomic particles may comfortably exist in two places at once but you can't. There is a big difference between expanding your boundaries and driving yourself nuts.

Why don't you calm down for a moment and JUST BREATHE? I designed this scent to calm, balance and center you whenever you need just that.

Suddenly you're transported to a Buddhist Temple deep in the fresh green forest. Isn't that really where you'd rather be?

On me, Just Breath is a lovely mixture of dirt, mint, and clean spring water. When I breathe it in, I imagine water rushing down mountain. The water is clear, clean, and cool. As it tumbles, it picks up flecks of fresh earth, crushed flower petals, twigs of young wood, springs of herbs, torn leaves. On a hike, I stop to wash my hands in it. Raising my wet hands to cool my face, I inhale and smell...this. When you see advertisers trying to bottle freshness, refreshingness, cleanness, lightness: this is what they are trying to give you.

So when you are feeling overwhelmed, take a tip from Chris Brosius: just breath.

Just Breath is very light with low sillage. It feels more seasonally appropriate for Spring, and reads more feminine to me than I might recommend for a man.

You can buy Just Breath for $60 in either 15ml perfume absolute or 100ml water perfume direct from the perfumer. You can also get samples from the CB website or from The Perfumed Court.

I couldn't find any other reviews of CB I Hate Just Breath, so you'll have to just try it for yourself.

Images from CB I Hate and J Morgan Marketing.

I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, thy power throughout the universe displayed.

CB I Hate Perfume Fire From Heaven

Here's one of the things I won't be missing about late summer and early fall in Southern California: the smell of burnination in the air. I know that SoCal locals are totally blasé about the whole "world's on fire" thing, but for me, it totally freaks me out. When coworkers calmly chat over lunch about fire jumping freeways or encircling entire cities so no one can get in or out, I find that terrifying. Talking to a friend who grew up not far from here, she told me that southern Californians regard fire season with a kind of Stockholm Syndrome. They can't change it. They have to live with it, so they learn to embrace it. I, on the other hand, find the idea that your nasal passages can be seared by the dry air and smell of soot in the air, which hangs over the horizon like a yellow haze, difficult to normalize.

That said, I enjoy smokey scents in general, when they aren't actually reminiscent of a dangerous elemental thing trying to consume the world around me. In honor of beautiful smokey scents, the Brosius love continues! Fire From Heaven is described as follows:

Smoke represents perhaps the most important aspect of perfume – its beginning. Even its modern name is derived from an antique term that means "to smoke through."

Fire From Heaven is blended from classic ancient incenses: Frankincense, Myrrh, Opopanax, Cedar, Sandalwood, Styrax & Labdanum. But the perfume's scent is subtle. Fire From Heaven is the memory of smoke...

Fire from Heaven has an acrid edge to it on initial application, kind of like green boughs burning in a newly built camp fire. It's medicinal and almost a little citrus-y. If it is possible for a scent to be gritty, this is a bit gritty too. It's rough, like flame paper. After a few minutes, though, the roughness backs off and it has a smell that reminds me more of raw green peat incense burning, like the smell I'd imagine one would find in an Amer-Indian desert ritual. It doesn't smell like smoke from a pipe or smoke from a chimney or even smoke from a bonfire; its smells rarer than that, spiritual. A kind of holy fire. Twenty minutes in it get a little sweeter, but never loses that strange acrid edge.

Fire From Heaven is a very unique scent and would work very well on a man or woman. It feels like it it would require unique circumstances. As unique as it is, I can't imagine a circumstance I'd have to commonly wear it. It feels right for being outdoors -- camping overnight and starring at the stars, spending the night on the coast in a yurt next to the immeasurable sea, going to a pagan ritual in the desert, or even, maybe to Midnight Mass for Christmas. It just smells too special, too rare, for every day wear. It seems like the right scent for contemplating the divine, the greater purpose, the grand design, in any form, whether that be in the good works of others or math or physics or astronomy or art or music or philosophy...or something even more ephemeral.

Fire from Heaven may not be something you'd wear with frequency, but I think it's uniqueness is like great art; even if you wouldn't hang it in your living room, it is certainly worth experiencing.

You can buy Fire from Heaven for $85 in either 15ml perfume absolute or 100ml water perfume direct from the perfumer. You can also get samples from the CB website or from The Perfumed Court.

"...When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.
Then sings my soul,
My savior, god, to thee,
'How great thou art!
How great thou art.' "
- "How Great Thou Art," traditional hymn

Want more reviews? Try…
~ A review from I Smell, Therefore I Am
~ A brief review from Perfume Posse

Images from CB I Hate Perfume, The Courier Post, and Flickr.

You taste so bitter and so sweet...

CB I Hate Perfume Under the Arbor

Here’s a dirty secret that left me hamstrung all throughout law school: I don’t know jack about wine.

I had to go to all these schmancy networking events to try to make nice with attorneys to get jobs. Most of these meet and greets were for medium to large size firms, offering exactly the kind of work I did not want. But the expectation was that you do these things to be successful, so I put my best effort into it. Truthfully, though, it’s hard to break in from the wrong side of the economic line. I’ve never been to Europe. I’ve never skied a black diamond in Aspen or Jackson Hole and my family does not have a vacation home in the Hamptons or a time-share in Hawaii. I don’t golf. I’m not well-traveled outside the US. I don’t have a family of attorneys who work at firms you might have heard of. They didn’t go to college with your mom or sister or sibling.

And I really, really don’t know anything about wine. But I do know a little bit about perfume.

Heading back to Portland means I get to contemplate something I love but thought was lost to me for a while – FALL! I love fall, love everything about fall. And one thing that is associated with Fall is Fall Crush. And while I do not know about wine, I do know that making a good wine scented perfume has got to be at least as hard as making a good wine.

As I am apparently working my way through the entire CB line, I thought I’d give Under the Arbor a try. Brosius describes Under the Arbor as follows:

Grape Leaf is a scent that reminds me of some of the most beautiful places I have visited in California, Italy and France. But mostly it reminds me of the old grape arbor that grew in the yard of the house were I lived as a child. I so loved to sit under it on a summer day quietly reading a favorite book curling my toes in the cool moss...

This is the scent of Crushed Grape Leaves, Weathered Wood, Green Moss and Cool Earth.

Under the Arbor is a pretty lovely scent. I’ve never been to a California vineyard, but I’ve been to some in the Snohomish and Willamette Valleys, and if a vineyard is a vineyard is a vineyard, then this is one hell of a bottled scent. Like running through rows of vines, breathing in the dirt and moss clinging to grapes ripening in the warm sun. It’s lovely, it’s warm, it’s a fall delight!

On application the dirt and moss notes are strong, but the crushed grape leaves are there in strength by the fifteen minute mark. Under the Arbor has low sillage, could work well for a woman in a v-neck, fitted cashmere sweater and comfortable, fitted fashionable jeans with minimal jewelry, or for a man in similarly nice jeans, and button down with open collar and half rolled sleeves. Think casual pick-your-own fruit wear for the upwardly mobile creative class. It’s both casual and classy, a nice combination.

You can buy Under the Arbor for $60 in either 15ml perfume absolute or 100ml water perfume direct from the perfumer. You can also get samples from the CB website or from The Perfumed Court.

"You are in my blood like holy wine.
You taste so bitter and so sweet.
Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling,
and I would still be on my feet."
I would still be on my feet.
- “A Case of You,” Joni Mitchell

Want more reviews? Try…
~ A review from Perfume-Smellin’ Things
~ A review from Kevin at Now Smell This!
~ A review from Sniffapollooza Magazine (halfway down page)

Images from The Daily Green, CB I Hate Perfume, and American Feast.

‘Cause I just can't wait 'til you write me you’re coming around...

CB I Hate Perfume Lavender Tea

My fetish for Christopher Brosius creations is, no pun intended, well documented. I feel about ultra-realism in perfume the way some people love neo-classical painting or high fashion or classical music. Well-made perfume is incredibly challenging to create, and to make something that lasts decades or even centuries is truly art distilled into lovely bottles for our enjoyment, so I enjoy Jicky and Mitsouko and a plethora of Chanels because I recognize their artistic quality. That said, the challenge of actually trying to recreate scents that are common to our every day experiences in a way that reads as high quality perfume and not syrupy sweet scents better suited to Yankee Candle creations is something I find profoundly awesome. Because the real is what we frequently end up tying our memories to, the ability of the ultra-real to recall those memories is especially strong.

Brosius describes Lavender Tea as follows:

This is one of the scents I originally designed for my Wardrobe collection. I made the swift discovery that it is wonderful to wear. So I've redone it in a richer concentration especially for you to wear yourself. Lavender Tea is a rich blend of French Lavender, Black Indian Tea, a few warm woods and a subtle touch of Indonesian Patchouli (just a hint).

Now I’m not a huge tea drinker. It’s taken me years to get around to enjoying even a few select flavors. But in scent? I love tea! Here, the combination of lavender and tea is so excellently put together. I’m sure it would make a great wardrobe scent and it would make an excellent room oil scent.

Also, lavender is known for being helpful with stress reduction, and can be used in a number of comforting ways -- tea, food, scent. I can certainly imagine spraying it on my pillows on stressful nights to help me relax and sleep. I think it would make a refreshing scent for summer because it’s got a nice herb-y lightness, but the wood and patchouli notes warm it up enough that it also will work well for cooler weather.

Lavender Tea is very unisex in presentation; since there isn’t a lot of sweetness and lavender isn’t very traditionally floral, you could easily get away with this if you were a man. For women, it’s not a very formal scent. I see this less as a first date, nerves and a little black dress scent and more of a cuddle close/stolen moments with your sweetheart in a hoodie and knit cap under the bleachers at the homecoming football game. It feels like it would work for a woman in high school and their early twenties, so if you’re looking for a nice gift for a younger woman, this would be a nice and unique option. That said, I think it will work well for me, and I am decidedly not in that age group. On the whole I find it refreshing and hopeful, a sort of bottled upbeatness that seems to welcome tomorrow.

You can buy Lavender Tea for $60 in either 15ml perfume absolute or 100ml water perfume direct from the perfumer. You can also get samples from the CB website or from The Perfumed Court.

“I used to think maybe you loved me.
Now I know that it’s true,
And I don't want to spend all my life just a-waiting for you.
Now I don't want you back for the weekend, not back for a day.
Baby ,I just want you back and I want you to stay…
I’m walking in sunshine, woah-oh!
And don’t it feel good!”
- “Walking on Sunshine,” Katrina & the Waves

Want more reviews? Try…
~ A review from I Smell Therefore I Am

Images from CB I Hate Perfume and Stress Less in Vegas.

Everyday I write the book.

CB I Hate Perfume In the Library

Whenever I read, the start of the journey is always opening the book and breathing deeply. Don't you find there are few things more wonderful than the smell of a much-loved book? - Christopher Brosius

When I was a little girl, one of my very favorite places was my local library. This library branch wasn’t much to look at as library’s go, and my brother would have much rather been in the mall. But I was happy out in the tiny squat building that sat in the mall parking lot, hiding from the heat in the air-conditioned confines of the world of books I’ve loved all my life. I have long been able to lose myself in books as hours flew by. So much so that as a child I had to be grounded from reading; otherwise I was unlikely to regret, or even really notice, my punishment. Few places really make me feel as safe and happy and satisfied with being alone as a library or bookstore, surrounded by beautiful books filled with fantastic worlds, thrilling adventures, and emotion extracted from the complex emotional tangles of life, boiled down and poured into a few brilliant lines of poetry. In my grown-up life, one of my favorite hideaways from the world is Powell’s City of Books , which is a city block chocked full of lovely books, old and new, classic and pulp, hot of the presses or lovingly used.

Given this penchant for books, it makes sense that CB I Hate Perfume In the Library would be a scent I’d love. I love the story Brosius tells about his love of books, what I can’t get over is how much like the real thing the scent smells. If you have ever closed your eyes and inhaled the lovely smell of a beloved book, particularly an especially old copy, you know the smell. Brosius describes it as “English Novel taken from a Signed First Edition of one of my very favorite novels, Russian & Moroccan leather bindings, worn cloth and a hint of wood polish,” but to me it is bitter, dry, warn, warm, slightly oily and slightly woody, and on the whole, truly delightful. Scentzilla mentions in her review that, to her, In the Library smells like the aforementioned Powells, but to me Powells has too much foot traffic for the lovely book smell to pervade the building as purely as In the Library. To me, In the Library will always be the cool quiet world of public libraries (as well as the soul deadening silence of the law library I scrupulously avoided in law school – still loved the smell, though.)

While this one is probably for the diehard lovers of books or realist perfume (or, if you’re like me, both!), I still think it’s a wonderful experience that is worth sampling at minimum. I think it’s a sophisticated scent for a woman and a great scent for a man. The scent has good lasting power (several hours later and still going strong!) and low sillage, and hours later it still has a lovely smell, that I think is summed up nicely in a scene from the fifth season of Gilmore Girls. Rory, giving a campus tour to a prospective student, extols the virtues of libraries, capping off her lecture by requesting the prospective student smell a book. As Rory smells it, her paramour de jour comes over to tease her about smelling a book. After he leaves, the prospective student comments that the boy de jour is so cute. In her love of books and her irritation at the young girl’s inability to appreciate them, she replies curtly, “Yes. He’s very cute. But not as cute as Pushkin.” There might be many lovely fragrances out there waiting for you, but if you love books like I do, few will be quite as appealing to you as In the Library. Or, for that matter, Pushkin.

You can purchase the either the 15ml perfume absolute or the 100ml water perfume for $60 direct from the perfumer. In the Library is also available in a home spray, so you, too, can achieve that lovely library scent at home. You can also pick it up at online scent retailers like Luckyscent, and if you’re a try before you buy type, samples are available at The Perfumed Court as well as from CB direct.

”Don't tell me you don't know the difference
between a lover and a fighter.
With my pen and my electric typewriter,
even in a perfect world where everyone was equal
I'd still own the film rights and be working on the sequel.
I'm giving you a longing look.
Everyday, everyday, everyday...
Everyday I write the book.”
- “Everyday I Write the Book,” Elvis Costello

Want more reviews?
~ Alovely review from Scents & Sensibility.
~ A review from Scentzilla.
~ In the Library gets two mentions, one here and one here, from Perfume-Smellin’ Things.
~ Lastly, a lovely surprise review from The New Yorker.

Images courtesy of CB I Hate Perfume.

Where is the sacrifice? And tell me where, where is the faith?

CB I Hate Perfume Revelation

Vices.

Everyone has them. Every single person alive has at least one coping mechanism that, out of moderation, can be unhealthy. People smoke. People drink. People over eat. People don’t eat all. People over exercise. People shop. People become rigidly organized in the face of a world spinning out of control. Some are more innately harmful than others, obviously, but everyone has one.

Sugary, milky espresso drinks from Starbucks, preferably with nonfat milk, no whip cream, and lots of extra shots of espresso constitute one of my vices. When I am feeling sad or frustrated or simply need a break, an overpriced foamy beverage of the caffeinated variety can quiet the storm in my soul, stave off a bout of hysterical laughter and/or tears.

But some days there is not enough coffee available to be able to handle the world we live in.

Today is one of those days.

But I digress…

Another one of my vices, obviously, is perfume acquisition. My personal version of “Oh the Places You’ll Go” might also be amended to include “…and the scents that you’ll sniff!” One boss, a former drugs and alcohol addictions counselor, noted that the way I carry tiny vials of perfume samples around with me in a tin in my purse is pretty similar to the way a junkie carries their works with them everywhere. Not once, but twice in the almost two months I’ve been here someone has seen me rummaging through my samples at my desk in my office and remarked that it looks like I have a little Disney tin full of crack vials sitting there. (This is not an immediate cause for alarm due in part to the nature of my job, which involves hearing all sorts of policy infractions as a hearing officer for a university; these incidents sometimes come with, well, bags of evidence. Like they do.)

But in what can sometimes be an ugly and unfeeling world, having a little pile of chemically orchestrated magical beauty readily accessible is comforting to me, calming. Sure, right now people may be hurting one another, terrible injustices may be taking place, but right now there are also people creating beauty in the world, through music or film or poetry or theater or even, yes, perfume. Humanity can be cruel and calculating and vicious but it can also be artful and honest and just. And it’s good, in dark times, to have whatever reminds you of that beauty within arm’s reach.

With that, I give you my review of CB I Hate Perfume Revelation. Christopher Brosius describes Revelation (also known as “fig”) as follows:

Revelation captures the scent of a Wild Fig Tree. The prime note is that of Fig Leaves & Twigs blended with Honey and a touch of Spice. The perfume is based on a rich warm blend of Cedarwood, Cypress Wood, Amber & Labdanum.
Revelation begins with a crisp green scent that gently warms on the skin to be sensual and glowing.

On me, Revelation is a warm, honeyed wash rather than anything particularly green or fruity. It’s kind of woody and rich. It spends the first half hour developing, blooming from small to moderate sillage. The scent reminds me of clear, clean water splashed over a weary and sad face. It is soft and gentle like a comforting hand. Revelation is like the olfactory act of pulling oneself back together, sometimes one frayed thread at a time.

My only complaint is that the scent doesn’t last super long in the water perfume. After about two hours, it had all but disappeared, kind of like my calm. If you’re buying, I’d opt for the perfume absolute on this one. On the whole, though, a nice effort.

“Some day there’ll be a cure for pain.
That’s the day I throw my drugs away.
When they find a cure, when they find a cure for pain.”
- “Cure for Pain,” Morphine

Want more reviews? Try…
~ A a review from Perfume-Smellin’ Things.
~ A review from the Whiskey Luxury livejournal.
~ A review from memory & desire.
~ A review of numerous figgy scents from Perfume Posse.
~ A review from The Non-Blonde.

Images from CB I Hate Perfume.

There's a crack in the mirror and a bloodstain on the bed...

CB I Hate Perfume Wild Hunt

I love that vampires are back in vogue.

As an adolescent I always felt an affinity for the supernatural and macabre. Maybe it was the familial ghost stories that are passed down like precious heirlooms in my family, like that time my aunt saw footprints on the ceiling or how Mother Nanny or Aint Lee grew up on the “most haunted road in Texas.” Regardless, I never understood the Victorian prayer to deliver us from “ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties and things that go bump in the night.” I was always fascinated and drawn to the bumping, not scared of it. This carried over pretty heavily into my teenage fashion, which was at the height of the Anne Rice vampire frenzy. At the time, though, I did not have a fragrance that could match the inky threads wrapped around a body that housed was I was sure was a dark, dark soul.

One of the scents I frequently associate with all things dança da morteis fresh turned earth. The graveyard. The freshly risen – vamp, mummy, zombie, whathaveyou. To that end, CB I Hate Perfume Wild Hunt encompasses everything I find alluring about Death and her siblings.

Christopher Brosius describes Wild hunt as follows:

This is the fourth scent in my series of primal smells.
Wild Hunt is the scent of an ancient forest in the heat of a summer afternoon. It is a blend of Torn Leaves, Crushed Twigs, Flowing Sap, Fallen Branches, Old Leaves, Green Moss, Fir, Pine and Tiny Mushrooms.

When I smell Wild Hunt I am transported to every darkened movie theatre, screening that quintessential horror film opening that begs for the voiceovers of Vincent Price. Wild Hunt is all about the end and its glorious possibilities. It starts out like the smell of bare hands plunged directly into freshly turned, wet earth. Not the clay/sand/soil “gumbo” soil I grew up with along the coast either; deep, black, rich soil, like the expensive kind my grandmother used to buy for her rose bushes. Soil meant to move and shake and break down and build up. Soil that screams, “Life!” in the way that Frost meant when he said, “If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles. You will hardly know who I am or what I mean.” The smell is strong and real and holds you there, in the presence of the moment. There are hints of greenness, but mostly what I get is warm, wet dirt. (It’s amazing to me how much I love the smell of dirt. I would never have realized it in my pre-perfumista life, but I do now. I love dirt.)

After about fifteen minutes, a sweet floral something comes into the mix. On me it reminds me of the taste of clover honey. It’s sweet and warm and a little bit cinnamon-y. In my macabre mind, it might represent the fresh flowers left at a grave sight, or the point at which nature begin creeping back in, taking over the soil and all that lies below.

People are attracted to death for a lot of reasons – fear or fascination with the unknown, lost loved ones still yearned for, a desire to live in a world that simply acknowledges all of life’s magic and mystery through a manifestation in the real. All and all, I think Wild Hunt makes for a fascinating olfactory adventure, and this fabulous fragrance can aid your imagination’s wandering through the multitudinous what-ifs. And if you’ve got a niece or younger sister or friend who is currently riding the wild tides of True Blood or Twilight, gift them with a sample of Wild Hunt. Had sixteen year old me known such a scent existed, I would have worn it 24-7.

"They used to dance in the garden in the middle of the night.
They were naked as the day they were born, skin all bone-china white.
Oh, you were a vampire, and I may never see the light.
Oh, you were a vampire, and I may never see the light.
I got the ways and means to New Orleans.
I'm going down by the river, where it's warm and green.
I'm gonna have a drink and walk around.
I've got a lot to think about..."
~ “Bloodletting (The Vampire Song),” Concrete Blonde

CB I Hate Perfume Wild Hunt is available direct from the perfumer, as well as through a number of distributors, including LuckyScent.

For more reviews, try:
~ A review by Perfume Smellin' Things.
~ A bunch of CB I HATE Perfume quick reviews in one large post from Nathan Branch.

Drugstore blues

In an effort to keep my promise regarding a review of drug store/lower end perfumes in honor of Sookie Stackhouse and the other lovely residents of the fictional Bon Temps, LA, I went to three drug stores and two combo stores in my area this weekend trying to find one that didn’t keep all the bottles locked behind a class case with no sample sprayers.

I failed.

It appears things have changed from when I was a little girl, and a person could walk into a store and actually try on perfume before purchasing it, even if that store was a Walgreens, CVS, or Eckerds (now Rite-Aid). This is no longer that case, and I couldn’t bring myself to drop $50 on 2-4 full bottles of scent I might really never wear again. At least, not at this economically challenging moment. Thus, the drugstore scent reviews will be furloughed (as I have been) until I have the time and money to get to them. I apologize for any disappointment this causes.

I noticed something else, though, while I was on my local tour of drug/ discount department/superstores. I was surprised to see that scents that were strictly “middle to high end department store” nice when I was fifteen are now relegated to partial/full drugstore status. I saw Elizabeth Arden Red Door, CK One, and Elizabeth Taylor White Diamonds all sitting next to Coty and Charlie. When I checked Target, it turns out that there were almost exclusively scents that used to be big name department store scents hanging out behind the glass, waiting for purchase. (Can anyone say Joop! cologne or Ralph Lauren Polo?)

I suppose in the last fifteen years perfume has become more stratified economically. Or maybe I have. I grew up in the sort of family that still ordered clothes from the Sears & Roebuck catalogue if you needed something “fancy.” I don’t think I set foot in a Nordstrom level department store until my mid-late 20s. My prom dress came straight off the rack from the local J.C. Penney, and I felt beautiful in it all the same. But I wonder how much the internet has played a role in the class elements of perfume expanding. When I can give a limited edition perfume made and sold exclusively in France to my niece as a graduation present, it’s clear that her world, and mine, have grown to include things my grandmother and her $15 bottle of perfume, which was considered an “expensive” gift appropriate for birthdays or anniversaries, never dreamed off.

I like the world I live in now. I like its infinite possibilities. I like that the best way to order from one of my very favorite perfumers, Christopher Brosius, is to go straight to his website and order direct from his single independent store in NYC. But I wonder at what we have to give up right outside our doors in exchange. I remember when my grandmother bought me a bottle of Sunflowers for my fifteenth birthday. I felt so special and grown up to have gotten such a nice gift, and everyone around me thought it was really nice, too. I didn’t feel sad or ashamed I wore drugstore perfume. That’s what everyone did, and we were happy that way. I would be sad to think that such an opportunity might be missed today in the shuffle of our increasingly busy world.

To that end, I would like to direct any readers with interests toward Angela's series at Now Smell This! on economically accessible scents (in these trying times) from Victoria Secret, Bath & Body Works, and the like.

It' s salty and hard / It is stern as a knife...

CB I Hate Perfume At the Beach 1966

Last night I was reading and ran across a line wherein the narrator mentioned how children in the South frequently refer to the grandfathers as Papaw (pronounced either Pa-paw or Paw-paw, I did the latter.) Though my grandfather has now been gone for over a decade, I spontaneously burst into tears. Grief is funny like that. You walk around, every day, not know you have a hole in your heart, until you run smack into it all the sudden. Then it just overwhelms you, and like the surf you have to roll with it or get sucked under. Then the tide of it goes out again and you can move on.

One of the strongest memories I have of my Papaw was of him taking me to our family beach house down in Crystal Beach, Texas. That house, and the memories I have from there, are one of the most precious things I possess in my life. I remember being well and truly loved and happy in there, in way I don’t remember happening anywhere else where I grew up. Passing all the azaleas on the freeway down to Galveston, waiting in line to ride the ferry across to the tip of Bolivar Penninsula, spending all day at the beach and then getting hamburgers and ice cream for dinner on the way to the water slide, which for the kids in the family substituted for a post-ocean shower since the house only had one for all the adults to share.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Crystal Beach. In fact, it’s been about eight years. But the love I feel for that place it like a mild hunger that never leaves me. I’ve always thought that if the good Lord saw fit to make me fabulously wealthy overnight, I’d buy a place down there of my very own. So you can imagine my surprise at trying on CB I Hate Perfume At the Beach 1966 and finding out someone managed to bottle my lovely memories into a scent I can carry around with me.

Christopher Brosius, who I can never say enough good things about, describes At the Beach 1966 as follows:

Imagine it's about 4 o'clock on a golden summer afternoon and you've been at the beach all day rubbing yourself with Coppertone suntan lotion – but Coppertone as it existed in the 60's, not quite as it is now... You walk into the surf as the waves break on the shore and, bending down to touch the surf, you notice the smell of your warm skin and of the salt water that seems so cold by comparison. It has just the faintest hint of watermelon rind!

The prime note in this scent is Coppertone 1967 blended with a new accord I created especially for this perfume – North Atlantic. The base of the scent contains a bit of Wet Sand, Seashell, Driftwood and just a hint of Boardwalk. The effect when you wear At The Beach 1966 is as if you've been swimming all day in the ocean.

This description, in my view, is dead on the money. On me I smell suntan lotion, warm leather car seats, sand and sweet sweat. It is exactly the scent I remember from going to Crystal Beach every summer, going so frequently that I remember going to Crystal Beach before I was able to form memories of going. For those of you who think you hate aquatics because no one ever gets them right, give this one a try. I promise it won’t disappoint. I'd differentiate this from Annick Goutal's Songes as the different between day and night of the same exact day. If At The Beach 1966 is day time with the family, then Songes is the evening dates along the Galveston Sea Wall with high school boyfriends. At The Beach 1966 feels like a nice fragrance for the day, whereas I associate the sweet sultriness of Songes with night time visits to the beach. Both lovely experiences, but different in form and fragrance.

Crystal Beach was just about plum wiped out last year by a hurricane, but somehow our little house managed to weather the storm still in one piece. Lots of others weren’t so lucky. I don’t know that the community as I remember it will ever return. Certainly a lot of the places that we went as a family, a family that really doesn’t exist anymore, are just as gone as the people I loved.

They say that olfactory memory is the strongest. To be given the ability to pull oneself back to a simple and sweet time in one’s life in an instant is a remarkable gift. At the Beach 1966 does that for me. As Marina at Perfume Smellin’ Things, writes so aptly in her review, “I can see these being the ultimate comfort scent: if I was ever seriously depressed, these memories of perfect childhood would perk me up better than Atavan...” I totally agree. And for that, even if I ignored all the other wonderful and unique scents CB has brought us, I will be eternally grateful.

Where the wind is for blowin' up hurricanes for showin'
The snakes how to swim and the trees how to lean...
- Guy Clark, "South Coast of Texas"

CB I Hate Perfume At the Beach 1966 is available direct here.

Want more? Check out reviews of At the Beach 1966 from…
~ Now Smell This!
~ Perfume Smellin’ Things.

"It's Good To Want Things."

CB I Hate Perfume I Am a Dandelion

"Dinky Dean Bossetti, is that the yellow sweater I bought for you last week? That was a thirty-two dollar sweater, missy, and you dyed it black, didn't you? After you promised me you wouldn't."
"Correction. I didn't promise I wouldn't. I said I'd try not to."

One of my all-time favorite films growing up was Welcome Home, Roxy Carmichael a little indie flick starring Winona Ryder, the poster girl for teen angst and misunderstanding for my generation. One of my favorite lines involves a the former lover of a famous woman (the eponymous Roxy Carmichael), long gone from Dinky's home town, relating a story about roxy's preference for dandelions. He tells Dinky, "She loved dandelions. She said it was because they were wild and free and didn't give a shit where they lived."

There were a lot of dandelions where I grew up. So many that my mom would yell at me if she caught me blowing their delicate heads right off, spreading their seeds around our yard. I used to make jewelry out of them. Rings on my fingers, necklaces and crowns. I'd weave and twist their stalks and chew on them. I didn't realize they were a weed, not really. I thought they were beautiful, doubly so because they got to be two distinct incarnations, both beautiful yellow flower and delicate seeded head. I didn't understand why the world wouldn't want as many of them as would take root.

Charles Brosius clearly agrees with me and Roxy. The scent of CB I Hate Perfume's I Am a Dandelion is described simply:

This perfume is the simple scent of a Dandelion newly picked from the lawn

The story he writes to accompany the scent is so much more. Dandelions, Brosius writes, are "beautiful," "innocent," "fearless," "resilient," and "simple and humble." I tend to agree. What is a weed, really? According to Wikipedia, "[t]he dandelion plant is truly a weed in the classical sense: "a plant for which we once knew the use but we've forgotten it." there is a lot of beauty in the world we seem to have lost the purpose of. it doesn't make it any less beautiful. Luckily for us, we have Brosius to remind us.

I am a Dandelion, on initial application, smells so strongly of the smell of freshly cut grass that if you close your eyes you will forget that you aren't standing in the middle of one. You will smell the scent that dandelions' hold, milky and sweet and almost cinnamon spicy. It won't matter how old you are now, how dreams didn't turn out, how lonely life can be, how the world can see only a weed where your purpose and beauty used to grow.

Instead, you will remember the milk on your fingers, the stems in your teeth, the flowers crowning your head, your own innocence, your beauty, your resilience, your youth.

At least I do. Every time.

And that is truly magical.

CB I Hate Perfume I Am a Dandelion is available direct from Brosius's store in NYC.

Romantic piscean seeks angel in disguise...

Top Ten Scents of Summer 2009


I'm a little late to the party on top 10 summer scents of 2009, but I have an excuse -- a midsummer move! That's right, readers, I am now located in lovely Riverside, California, which is in the greater Los Angeles area. I can *drive* to the LuckyScent bar -- lord help me and my wallet!

Moving from a temperate rainforest to basically an arid desert climate caused me to retry all my scents to ensure that, new climate taken into account, I would still be rocking these all summer long. Particularly now that I live in the land of perpetual sunshine it seemed pertinent to ask -- will I still love you tomorrow? For the following ten scents, neither life in the rain shadow nor life newly sprung amidst the desert flowers could dissuade my affections. without further adieu, the list!

1. L’Artisan L’Eau de Jatamansi
Spicy and sultry, I smell in L’Eau de Jatamansi salt and pepper, licorice and lime (at least that's how the grapefruit and wood notes read on me). It's like someone dressed me for a summer grill. (I mean that in a good way.) I think its sexy and light, a wonderful hot weather fragrance.

2. CB I Hate Perfume I Am a Dandelion
This one deserves a full review, which I hope to do soon. Its sweet, green, its all about the best of things that the Earth gives us, just growing wildly around us, overlooked and underappreciated. A must have for me. More on this excellent fragrance very soon to come. Can Christopher Brosius do no wrong?

3. Chanel Coco Mademoiselle
I bought this on a summer vacation to L.A. because nothing I had with me was standing up the long days and hot sun. Coco Mademoiselle is great for summer because it is light and spicy, perfect for summer. See my full review here.

4. Tauer Perfumes L’air du desert marocain
Ever wondered what a woman who wanted to attract a cowboy at the state fair would wear to overcome all the varied and wild smells of a livestock show and radio? This beautiful concoction would turn heads anywhere, but seems particularly at home for the kind of warm night outdoor fun befitting a rugged summer in Montana or Eastern Oregon. See my full review here.

5. CB I Hate Perfume At the Beach 1966
On of the best summer perfumes ever made. It’s what you imagine suddenly finding yourself as an extra in “Where the Boys Are” would smell like – fifties swim suits, sand, sun, and waves.

6. TDC Sublime Balkiss
Mixed berries & flowers, but not overly flowery sweet or powdery and becomes less so over time. The black currant is particularly strong on me. It reads on me the way edible flowers -- like sugared violets -- taste. The patchouli comes in around the ten minute mark on me, making this not a classically fruity combination because it has a little more dirty/musk to it, which creates nice warm undercurrents.

7. S-Perfume 100% Love
Chocolate and roses – a summer love affair I enjoy every year. One of my all time favs! See my full review here.

8. Serge Lutens Bois de Violette
I love this! Of all the violets I’ve tried this is the most beautiful. Not overly ‘soapy,’ but sweet and warm and woody. I love it all year round, but it especially sings in the warm weather. A snuggly kind of summer fragrance, like what one wears on a warm night out along the boardwalk. LT gives it five stars, so you don’t have to take my word for it – this is lovely.

9. Comptoir Sud Pacifique Vanille Abricot
Some people are going to hate this, which is strong, long lasting, and smells (deliciously IMO) like cotton candy. I think this is an amazing candy floss, and if you can get behind smelling so much like confection that people will want to lick you like an amusement park treat, then you may enjoy this, too!

10. Annick Goutal Songes
Wearing this one today. I never seem to grow tired of it. Sillage is strong, but its like being hit with a swarm sea spray on a hot evening -- who wouldn't enjoy it? Perfect for a warm night spent barefoot on a beach along the Gulf or other sultry locale. See my full review here.

So that's my list! Now it's your turn -- what are your favorite summer scents?

And it's you & me in the summertime.
We'll be hand down in the park,
with a squeeze and a sigh
and that twinkle in your eye.
All the sunshine banishes the dark.
And it's you I need in the summertime
as I turn my white skin red.
Two peas from the same pod, yes, we are!
Or have I read too much fiction?
Is this how it happens?
The Sundays, "Summertime"

Check other summer top 10 lists from Now Smell This!, Perfume Posse, Bois de Jasmin, Grain de Musc, and Perfume Smellin' Things.