Saturday, July 28, 2012
For example, The Pour un Ete. I love tea fragrances, and I always felt that this one occupied a special niche in the tea fragrance crowd. It's bright and feminine and cold and warm and just a little bit stern. It's not weird, but it's still not dull or eager to please. As I re-read reviews, I see that everyone reads it as jasmine tea, and that might be part of the difference--all of my other tea favorites are black tea.
Then there's Din Dan. I was wandering through my "fresh citrus" fragrances--Fresh Lemon Sugar and Mandragore and ... well, see that's the problem. I only have two, and neither of them provides quite enough of a lemon blast. I remember that blast from Din Dan, though my Review Roundup post doesn't quite reflect that memory.
Then, while I'm looking at LostMarch, there's Lann-Ael. It always used to make me sad, but I never stop wishing I had another sample.
Then there's Serge Lutens Chene. I didn't buy Chene when I fell in love with it, did I? And, see how far I've drifted from my perfume collection, when I don't know if I own a bottle? My Basenotes wardrobe says I don't, and it's probably right, it's just that I remember a day and a Barney's counter and a credit card and tremendous temptation. Looks like I resisted that temptation. Good for me?
Regularly, like clockwork, I consider buying Dzing! and Luctor et Emergo. I think that's because both perfumes are seen as being weird, and I love the weird. The problem is that they're not really that weird. Elephant musk and stale popcorn? Play-Doh and cherries? Meh. Far too normal.
Sometime in the past year or so, I did acquire my highest-priority weirds: Aftelier Cepes & Tuberose, Comme des Garcons Garage, and a partial bottle of Tubereuse Criminelle. Mushrooms and buttered tuberose. Gasoline and dirty tires. Gasoline, mothballs, and decaying tuberose. Yum.
Fumerie Turque was similarly weird; as I've said before, it smells like tigers prowling around a campfire where tobacco-smoking campers once were. (Until the campers met the tigers.) I want it. I've wanted it since (lemme see) Decemer of 2009. Why don't I own it? I see it joining the above three, all of them strutting through the collection sneering at the well-behaved ladies like Estee Lauder Jasmine White Moss, and sending Rose Ikebana and Lemon Sugar fleeing in terror.
Of course, No. 19 would unsheath her claws and restore order. She can out-elegant the most ladylike, while simultaneously being beyond weird and approaching surreal. I do wonder, sometimes, why I need any perfume other than No. 19. Maybe she scares me, too.
It's Last Saturday. Din Dan?
Image: Wikimedia Commons.