SOTD: Frederic Malle Une Fleur de Cassie

I was going to wait until I learned to appreciate the nuances of Une Fleur de Cassie, and then post a Review Roundup and a full review.

You may recall that on my first try, my primary impression was of Elmer's glue.

I'm wearing it for the second time. My impression is of a vase of Elmer's glue with a flower in it. Therefore, there will be no full review.

I'm going to assume that I am unable to perceive this fragrance, throw up my hands, and offer everyone else's views:

Review Roundup: Bois de Jasmin and Basenotes and Perfume-Smellin' Things and MossyLoomings and PereDePierre and Legerdenez and MakeupAlley and Aromascope and Sweet Diva and Eiderdown Press and Fragrantica and Scent Signals and Perfume Nerd and Scentsate.

Link Roundup: Pronunciation from belabela.

Image: Wikimedia Commons. (Yes, I used it before, but, hey, it worked.)

SOTD: Frederic Malle Une Fleur de Cassie

Hmmm.

I sprayed this one on the back of my neck, intending to experience it for a day without any conscious effort at processing the notes.

That meant that the various elements drifted by my nose, and vanished, and drifted by again, leaving a vague, misty impression of...

Elmer's Glue.

Yes.

Really.

You know, the nice harmless white milky glue that you used in kindergarten, back before gluesticks became the vogue? I never realized, before today, that there's a rather sweet, floral note in that stuff. Or, at least, there is in memory, as recalled by this fragrance.

I'm quite confident that the next time I wear this, other notes will emerge, inspiring images of flowers rather than construction paper collages. But this time, well, I'm rather enjoying it.

Image: By Kalmalukko. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Frederic Malle Le Parfum de Therese

Fruity.

We pause here to listen to the echoing in my empty mind.

Fruity and beautiful.

It's a lovely fragrance. I'll offer more, on another day.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Nothing, and City trip report

Saturday, we went to The City. (Yay!) Lunch at my favorite restaurant in the world, The House on Grant in San Francisco. A play that shall remain nameless, because we walked out on it at intermission. A pause in Union Square to witness a large gathering of The Brides Of March.

When the Brides started to amble off in small groups, I ambled off to Barneys. Himself retained a cafe table, a Limonata, and our bag of almond cookies from The House. (Which reminds me; did he save me any? Must search shopping bag.)

Barneys had Serge Lutens Un Lys in stock, so I gave in to the inevitable and bought it. (Woohoo!) I'm keeping it in its little Barneys bag until I do some house cleaning; I wouldn't want it to get one look at our place and flee back to France.

I sniffed a handful of other Lutenses, with the assistance of a very nice man whose name I have, of course, forgotten. He shouldn't be offended by this; have I mentioned that I used to forget the name of my home room teacher until roughly Christmas break? The highlights:

• The infamous Musc Kublai Khan (on skin) wasn't nearly as ill-mannered as I expected. Yes, the beginning was stale sweat, but as time went on it was a surprisingly mild, increasingly sweet, animalic musk.
• Borneo 1834 (on paper) has no chocolate smell for me - to my nose, it's vaguely spicy and mostly medicinal.
• Santal de Mysore (on paper) was sweet and spicy and edible, much nicer than I remembered.
• Datura Noir (on paper) was much too friendly and well-behaved. I need more weird in my Lutens.
• Oops. I liked either Chene or Cedre much, much better than I did last time I tried it. And now I can't remember which one. It had a lot of sweet, and some floral, and a gasoline-like note. Neither scent's description matches my memory - any votes for which one that sounds more like? Bad one-syllable similar names!
• The reformulated Feminite du Bois (on paper) was almost exactly like the old Feminite du Bois, except without the soul.
• L'Eau (also smelled on paper) might work as a "clean" Jo Malone.  Serge Lutens? I don't think so.

After that, a very nice lady whose name I also don't remember walked me through some of the Frederic Malle fragrances. I was impressed - after having me sniff a few things, she recommended three fragrances, two of which I put on skin and like very much:

• Le Parfum de Therese. I have, of course, heard of this one, but I'd never given it a real wearing. It's lovely. Blended to the point that my nose can't pick out the notes, but not to the point of being simplistic. Fruity, but not "Oh. Fruity." Beautiful but without drawing attention to itself. I want some.
• Angelique Sous La Pluie. Also lovely, though less indescribably so. My response was, "Cedar. Nice." and I never really expanded on that. But I love cedar and have never before had enough of it in a fragrance.

Sniffing was followed by shellfish and Wicked (which we did not walk out of) and sleep. And a brain, today, that's too fuzzy to appreciate a scent.

Photo: By Nadavspi. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Frederic Malle Une Rose

This is one of Those Roses. I want to love them, and especially this one, but I just can't.

Those Roses are strong, grown-up roses with a bitter undertone, with or without incense. This category includes Czech & Speake No. 88 and Dark Rose, Tauer's Incense Rose, and several others that my nose, though perhaps no one else's, groups together. Perfume freaks adore these things and I want to be a proper perfume freak! But I can't, in this. The only one that I can comfortably wear is Eau d'Italie's Paestum Rose.

It's the often-citron-like bitterness I just can't get past. I don't demand that my rose be sweet or fruity or woody, but I just can't like it with that particular bitter note. Maybe it's because it's almost a food note, and roses and food don't combine for me? Maybe it's because I'm just too trained to expect sweetness, or, at the most challenging, tartness, to accompany a rose?

I'll be waiting this one out all day, to see if I can acquire the taste. But I don't really anticipate that I'll be returning with an epiphany.

Review Roundup: Now Smell This and Emergency Backpack and Bois de Jasmin and Perfume-Smellin' Things and Sweet Diva and PeredePierre and Perfume Posse.

Photo: Mine

SOTD: Not Quite Everything

So, we went to Barneys in San Francisco. To put it another way, I went to the toy store! (Picture excited bouncing.) We went to several other places in San Francisco, which I may well be posting about, but this ramble is about the Barneys trip.

Barneys has perfume. Barneys has all sorts of perfume. If a perfume house has an exclusive, it seems that odds are it's with Barneys.

Though, sadly, they do not have Parfumerie Generale. I wish they'd get on that. Not as an exclusive, of course; I wish everybody would stock Parfumerie Generale. The CVS pharmacy down the street would be a nice start. Or the Safeway. Or, for that matter, the local Chinese takeout. I want all the opportunities to sniff Parfumerie Generale that I can get, and for now I'm limited to samples and longing thoughts of The Perfume Shoppe in Vancouver. And LuckyScent in Los Angeles, but it's hard to work up a realistic longing for LuckyScent because I've never seen the place. Though there are pictures. Here. Look at that place! (Scroll down to see bottles and bottles and bottles.)

Anyway, returning to Barneys - they're nice. OK, admittedly, I've never entered Barneys in grubbies, which is an essential part of the "niceness" test. Neiman Marcus in Palo Alto, for example, has passed that test. But I nevertheless remain an un-made-up, not particularly fashionable, not particularly young, woman, and they've always made me feel that they're delighted that I came in.

And they leave you alone when it's clear that you want to be left alone.  And if you can't find something, they swoop, they find it, and then they once again read the left-alone signal and they run away.

It's becoming clear that I enjoy Barneys, right?

So. Went to Barneys. Sniffing ensued.