BACK TO BLACK

1/21/18

Bergamot. Saffron. Nutmeg. Cardamom. Coriander. Raspberry. Chamomile. Olibanum. Honey. Cedar. Oak. Tobacco. Patchouli. Almond. Vanilla. Labdanum. 

Back to Black, presented By Kilian as an aphrodisiac fragrance, is robust, sultry-sweet, and bursting with fragrant intrigue. The emboldening tones of the perfume reveal a latent discomfort with eroticism among certain factions of the scent-wearing community.  All notes are given nuance by a beckoning finger of honey, but in a very cleverly suggestive manner. Find a raspberry, smeared and ravished. Find a post-coital vanilla. Find an almond and choke it till it quivers. Then take the whole gasping lot and drizzle honey everywhere. If I want my sweet little honey bear fragrance that delights and appeases, I would choose Ginestet’s Botrytis. But Back to Black is taunting and perverse.

Opening with a pungent burst of powder and chamomile before the sweeter accords of vanilla and berries hit the nose, it is a ‘big’ perfume, difficult for some to digest, and goes on and on. Oddly, it has often made me think of a blue-veined cheese that has been left stinking on a sideboard, taking almost too long to subside at a full 12 hours on my over-yielding skin. Think about it as shoes. What woman has not uttered the words, “I am dying to take off my heels!” after a night out? It becomes a single-minded desire to rip the offending items from your feet. So imagine hours on this stilettoed scent wave and how you must ride it out until you are permitted the soft fleece of the slipper, being the final comforting tobacco dry down.

Rating: 4 exhausted honey bees resting on the carpel of a flower.

Paris*L.A

2/9/16

Cola accord. Key lime. Neroli petals. Ginger. Macaron. Coriander seeds. Thyme. Amber. Musk.

Paris*L.A, a curious creature from the niche house A Lab on Fire, is a strange and marvelous golden offering. Initially drawn in by the name and the addition of unusual ingredients to tell the ol’ factory Tale of Two Cities, or a Romeo-Juliette-esque modern romance in a bottle: “Presenting the enchanting macaron-Juliette from Paris and her American beau, the dashing Coca-Cola-Romeo from Los Angeles!” I was curious to see how a perfume could be balanced in the realm of the unusual and yet still be a wearable fragrance.  And honestly, it took me a couple of times. I don’t know whether intimidation or skepticism won out, but I was sure I wouldn’t like it. But now I know better, and I know that I was sitting on the cusp of something incredible; less like a child trying a new food for the first time and wrinkling up her nose at smell or texture, but more like I was on the cusp of a totally new concept, because this, ladies and gentleman, is the way of the future.

Now of course, having worn it several times, I reach for Paris* LA easily and without hesitation, and behold my own mirth at finding the door to this very secret and most precocious of clubs (sticks out tongue in your general direction).  Spray it on and the refreshment of key lime washes over the senses; refreshing, invigorating. Having the cola immediately present creates a complementary skin-union of these two as they fizz over the flesh, never sticky (which was my initial fear. “Cola? That sounds…messy,”) but somehow chic and versatile as the ginger note provides little woodpecker tap tap taps of spice. I feel like this is the ultimate pre-hipster scent, for as we all know, once the word hipster gets used, it is already the death of the thing that once identified it as hipster . It’s impossibly cool, and one of those few that when people ask, “woah, what are you wearing?,” I purse my lips in a petulant gesture, because nah, I don’t really want to tell you. It’s MY secret club. Are you sure you think you can join? Do you even own an analog camera? Joking aside, I will tell them, because I think of this as a revolution.

Delicious aromas of confectionery goodies start wafting up from the macaron base but still in an almost meticulously crafted orchestration, not some helter skelter of sugared nastiness. This perfume is written like a great play, with impeccable timings and a plausible story-line and it just all fits in piece by piece like a slowly-revealed puzzle.  There is always the danger with gourmands that the sweet or decadent nature of the perfume will overwhelm the nuances of the notes, but here, a seamless blend of sweet and savory blasts it to the top of the sugared stockpile. It is the king of the castle. And coriander? I can’t even, it’s so brilliant. No damn fool in the world is going to order a coriander-infused macaron, yet somehow, within this bottle, it works its magic to stunning effect, while musk and amber in the base temper the macaron in a, “Oy you, no more sugar after 8:00 p.m.!” kind of way. It’s a giddy little secret… which I just obviously revealed to anyone reading this post.

Rating: 5 of LA on Fire’s distinctive black/white bottles that you can try only if you chase me down and pry from my cold, dead fingers.

A LA ROSE

12/11/15

Damascena Rose. Bergamot. Orange. Violet. Magnolia Blossom. Cedar. Musk. Centifolia Rose.

Having taken a hiatus from the world of cyber-reviews for the last few months, I have been itching to do what I love best and return to the written word to share all my excitement and nausea and everything in-between for the scents I have been smelling in the interim. Barring losing my sense of smell over the last week or so due to a cold, I have been indulging in an interesting spectrum of scents, but ‘A La Rose’ was such a delicious find that I wanted to turn the limelight to it first of all.  Today was the day when I literally skidded to a halt on my bedroom floor and said, “Enough! I must write!”

Before initial application, I didn’t have a high hope. Orange-based citrus has a knack of turning sour on my skin, and when that happens, it is difficult for me to differentiate one perfume from another. It’s just a world of sour pain.  Softened and tamed with the addition of Grasse’s most famous and exquisite offering: Centifolia, or rose de mai, in the base and Damascena rose from Bulgaria producing a sparkling and airy fruity top note complemented by juicy orange citrus, A la Rose is exquisitely feminine, down to the presentation of the perfume in the bottle; a delicately-hued pink potion, so soft and pretty that it looks like it was brewed by fairy folk. There is nothing garish, sugary or too horribly pink about this. Fear not that it would be the eye-candy grab of some rampaging teen on the search for something pretty (meaning vanilla and suffocatingly sweet). True, it’s not a unisex scent, true, there is a talcum-softness to the flowers, and the base is woody, floral, and gentle. We can also be aware that it is not the most punchy rose in the lineup; I don’t think it’s going to have anyone dropping to their knees and salivating with lust, unlike some of the dark and witchy rose fragrances (See La Fille de Berlin) I have tried. It’s summery, universal and light, strikingly elegant and bursting with freshness. Overall, it got my arse in gear again to focus on doing that which I love: sharing the experience and stories of perfume-telling with a wider audience than myself, and that to me is worth a whole season’s worth of harvesting those astounding Grasse roses.

Rating: 4 roly polys in the plucked Grasse flower petals before you get chased off with a big stick and a pack of hounds.

SEVEN VEILS

7/27/15

Carrot seed. Pimento Berries. Tahitian Vanilla Flower. Laurier Rose. Glycine. Tiger Orchid. Sandalwood. Vanilla.

The phrase “that’s so vanilla” isn’t exactly a positive one and has associations with boring, cookie-cut styles, attitudes, or personalities.  Vanilla is conventional; the great appeaser, the one who struggles to live fully in the moment and shirks the dark side of the street.  In mainstream perfumery, it’s often synthetic, so when mixed with little else of value, it can smell unbalanced, like it’s trying to find its sea legs, often struggling to present a put-together product.  We may view it as a teeny bopper note, suited to adolescents who tend to make googly eyes at sweet ingredients; be it vanilla or something else.  My own six-year-old daughter, elated at being given the chance to select her own fragrance in a discounter’s warehouse, proudly held up her liquid of choice and exclaimed “Look mama, it smells just like jello!”  We live and we learn.

Saying this though, there are exciting partnerships to be made with vanilla and I have found a couple of recent favorites, the first of which is the exciting and unusual Seven Veils by Byredo.  It opens with a punchy blow of peppery raw vegetable that is flamboyant and so spicy-strong for the first few minutes that it gives off almost an alcohol-soaked intensity. I wouldn’t say it is shockingly carrot, although looking at the pale orange juice in the bottle, one would wonder if perhaps carrots had been left to steep there.  And that’s not a negative, because it’s actually very pretty.  To snatch a line from the Wizard of Oz, it’s just “a horse of a different color”!  An oriental treat of a perfume, the moniker ‘Seven Veils’ suits well, as it does conjure an Eastern mystique peeking at you with large seductive eyes from a covered face.  After that brash 8-cylinder opening blast of raw root vegetable, it fairly quickly settles into an almost custardy pretty little thing that’s still got hints of its boozy past, but thankfully is saved from saccharine vanillaland snoozeville by a healthy common sense dose of sandalwood; the wise aunt keeping the hormonal teen in check.

So, in conclusion,  although wearability will be subjective as I can see that some of the erstwhile vanillaheads might not like some of the cheeky little twists that Byredo adds here, this is definitely a notable and daring attempt at an oft-used perfumery staple.

Rating: 4 of Salome’s most lascivious veils.

BOIS D’ASCESE

6/29/15

Tobacco. Whiskey. Cinnamon. Amber. Labdanum. Oakmoss. Cedar. Incense.

Your nostrils widen beside a campfire.  Your jacket turns peaty and warm in the smoke. Your eyes crackle and squint from a sipping whiskey, ash and the sudden popping from the flames. You use the open-mouthed tumbler to cool your forehead and smell something both mannish and subtle, cozy and confident, female and contemplative. Bois d’ascese may take a gutsy wearer, but sometimes a little daring can go a long way.  Comforting and robust, it bursts open with a blazing crackle of notes. A long pour of whiskey hits the glass as cinnamon woods and spicy incense.  The amber hue of the liquid raises your internal body heat a notch or two.  Worn on a colder day, this gives you an enveloping ‘glowing-from-within’ swagger that settles and comforts.  The arc of wearability lasts about eight hours, during which time you can muse on the swaying and flicker of the kindled notes, right back down to the dying embers as it comes full circle. Bois d’ascese is a beautiful full-bodied fire-dance that is never performed in the same way twice and it is this uniqueness that trumps other more conventional tobacco fragrances.

Rating: 5 lashes of flame against the star-bright sky.

ANGELS OF FLORENCE
6/17/15

Lime. Bergamot. Jasmine. Lilac. Gardenia. Rose. Ylang-Ylang. Geranium. Cyclamen. Orange Blossom. Peaches. Prune. Melon. Cinnamon. Violet Leaf. Blackcurrant Buds. Sandalwood. Vanilla. White Musk. Gray Amber.

I know what they say. Angels of Florence is not a favorite in the niche world. It breaks no rules, will not set hearts-a-flutter, and probably is not the most unique formula ever concocted by Santa Maria Novella; a historic and much respected perfume house. But it is special to me and I will tell you why. SMN was my introduction to the world of niche perfume. Before that time, I had been swayed by glossy ads, kitschy-looking bottles, or a name that I liked, simply because that name sounded pretty or catchy. Someone would buy me a perfume, and I would wear it, because that’s what you do with a gift; right? I still love certain perfume names, but for a different reason. It’s because certain words trigger certain emotions, or joys, or reminiscences, and I feel particularly enamored to try the scent. I hear Nuit de Noel and I have visions of The Nutcracker Suite, Christmas pines, yule logs, my mother’s annual Xmas sherry consumption dancing around my head, and that’s before even smelling it! So I love the name Angels of Florence. I expect femininity, culture, long stretches of history, and bridges over the Arno. I am thinking of one of my favorite books as a teen: ‘A Room With a View.’ I can see Lucy being kissed by George in the midst of the violet field and her extraordinary transfiguration as of that moment. I am working myself into a frenzy of high expectations!

When I first discovered Santa Maria Novella in a boutique in Portland, it was actually another scent, Melegrano, which I was initially enamored with. At the last minute, however, I picked up a bottle of Angels of Florence and it was all over. It is not magic, but it is a very crisp and clean green floral scent. There are actually a lot of flowers and notes involved, but the composition is very restrained and (dare I say) politically correct. There are floral perfumes which are bigger than the bottle; loud and dirty and an affront on the senses, but there are no bugs on Angel’s flowers. This is the suit with no wrinkles, the pristine counter top. Although I would say that since our first introduction, I have had deeper connections with other scents that elbow and shove their way into your heart, body and soul, there is something to be said for the understatement. While not vivid or memorable enough to send people into a tizzy in a good or bad way, there is nothing ‘unlikeable’ about it. There is no venue where this scent would be an unwelcome guest. If you would like to furnish your fragrance wardrobe with an elegant ‘all-rounder’ that you can as easily wear to work as you can to dinner, but that won’t have anyone scurrying under the table for cover, or reaching for a gas mask, it is a good choice. While I think it tips slightly more to the feminine side of the scale, it does not overtly do so, and I understand the classification as a cologne. It is absolutely appealing as a unisex scent.  Unfortunately for me on a personal level, I am now unable to wear it, probably due to overuse and the sheer number of ingredients that now make me feel like I am swimming when I put it on, so to coin a Brit phrase, I am “done and dusted.”

Rating: 3 peals of the Duomo bells.