Perfume: A basket of quick sniffs

I've been wearing perfume without reporting back. Shocking. I'll probably review these properly someday, but as I laze around on holiday vacation, I'm going to record my first impressions.

Sylvia Grojsman 100% Love didn't quite hit the right note for me. The vanilla and chocolate were lovely, but the roses and berries seemed to clash with them, rather like... like... OK, I don't know what like. To quote Buffy, "un-mixy things." I did enjoy the drydown, but I don't like having to wait for a clashing note to go away.

Parfumerie Generale Gardenia Grand Soir was just as lovely as it was the day I tried it in the shop--before I broke all rules and bought it the same day. But I didn't have any new thoughts about it.

I ordered a tiny 2ml decant of Mary Greenwell Plum because I remembered it being mentioned fondly more than once by Mals over at Muse in Wooden Shoes. The initial fruit note was exactly what I wanted--an idealized plum, or perhaps plum jam. Dark and intense but not sweet. But then the aldehydes came out, simultaneous with the thought, "Doesn't Mals refer to herself as an Aldeho?" and indeed she does, and Plum lost me for the next hour or so. The drydown turned likable again, but I think that this one is too grownup for me.

Montale Chocolate Greedy was a nice enough vanilla with just a dusting of chocolate. It brings to mind chocolate meringues or other chocolate creations that depend on cocoa rather than melted chocoalte for their flavor. Perfectly nice, but not what I had in mind. Is chocolate always either a fleeting note (Cacao and Guilt) or a dusty background presence (Greedy)?

Lady Stetson was pretty nice, and that's all I remember.

Sung by Alfred Sung was not what I expected. I expected green; I got only the faintest hint of galbanum trapped behind prickly thorny flowers, followed a good while later by knee-deep powder. Meh.

That is all.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Iris Taizo, and Cheese

I may be back to normal.

Or I may not.

But I'm wearing perfume. When I finished the work week (woohoo!) earlier this evening and opened the bread boxes in which I keep the main body of the perfume collection, Iris Taizo demanded that I wear it. I wasn't in an Iris Taizo mood at all, but it seemed so set on its purpose that I hesitated to contradict. So I'm wearing it right now, and a few hours later, it's just starting the transition from cynically bitter to gently sweet.

After that, Himself and I went out, and ate seaweed salad, and hazelnut prawns, and several other things, and, perhaps most importantly for the character of this post, drank lemon drops. Two of them. I did, that is. He drank other things.

I don't drink much. Not much at all. It turns out that two lemon drops, one of them consumed with not much more than a few soybeans to stand against them, are enough to make my brain feel as if it's been gently dislodged from my spinal cord and tossed into some sort of sweet, bobbing liquid.

I have been of the opinion for quite some time that someone should pass a law that all alcoholic beverages should be served with a cube of cheese, in order to give the consumer a fighting chance against the intoxicating effects. Or perhaps the customer should be required to consume the cube of cheese before being handed the glass--brandish the ID, eat the cheese, then imbibe. My current swimmy brain is now all the more convinced of the wisdom of this policy.

I was not offered any cheese. And I can assure you that soybeans are an insufficient shield against a determined lemon drop. But apparently I can still type. Though I may need to re-read this tomorrow to see if that's really true.

That is all.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Ranveig. Wikimedia Commons.

Perfume Rambling: Scenting on the run

So, as I mentioned, we've had a busy and stressful few weeks. Requesting permission to move, biting my nails until I got it, boxing everything we've ever owned (OK, maybe not everything), talking to realtors, moving, rearranging the house to make room for some of the stuff, stashing the rest, and taking not nearly enough time off for the process. And that was just one of the things going on.

Once things settled down a bit, it occurred to me that a post about perfume choices during busy times might be worth writing. When there's limited time or energy or inclination to make a careful, considered choice based on my moods, what do I wear?

Parfumerie Generale L'Eau Rare Matale, that's what.

Oh, I wore one or two other things - if I look at my Twitter feed, I see that I wore Fou d'Absinthe on 3/25, for example, and I seem to remember wearing some thick floral on another day, and regretting it. But in general, lately, if I'm scented, it's with L'Eau Rare Matale. That was true in either home--from a decant in the one we moved out of, and from the original bottle in the one we're finally permanently living in.

So, why? What is it about L'Eau Rare Matale? Does this mean that if I ever went to a signature scent, this would be the one? Is that possible? Not No. 19, not Cristalle, not White Rose, not Un Lys, not Tubereuse Couture, but instead this biting, charred-wood, angry-tea scent?

Hmmm.

Now, I could argue that it's a mood thing. That when I'm busy and grumpy and rushing around, I want something sharp and bracing. But that ignores the fact that I've actually been finding L'Eau Rare Matale very comforting. It doesn't feel like a challenge, it feels like a friend. When I did take a moment to put on some perfume, I not only chose this one, I put on a lot of it, doubling or tripling my usual two sprays.

A side thought comes to me - I recently saw a reference to the Little Brown Dress Project, a project where a woman made a brown dress, and wore it every single day for a year. I find myself comparing L'Eau Rare Matale to the brown dress. Both brown, both earthy and simple and lacking in frills and glitter, but also both with a distinctive style, and just a tiny bit of a "you wanna make something of it?" attitude. Maybe I should try wearing L'Eau Rare Matale for a year.

Very funny. It's just the lemon drops talking. But all the same, it's interesting that this, of all things, is my too-rushed-for-perfume perfume. I'll have to think it over some more.

Image: By Maylene Thyssen, Wikimedia Commons.

SOTDays: Miscellaneous Tuberoses

Slacker! Me, that is.

OK, updating the perfume log:

Sunday was Tubereuse Couture. I enjoyed it very much; my taste for florals seems to be increasing, probably due to the spring weather.

Monday and Tuesday were sadly unscented.

Today I was hunting for something on a shelf and found a spray sample of Tubereuse Criminelle with the smallest drizzle left on the bottom. It took ten sprays to pump any of it out, but I can still very clearly smell it now, over ten hours later. I think that it's my favorite tuberose--definitely not the most wearable, but my favorite.

Thursday Update: This morning I noticed that the pre-shower 24-hour remnants of Tubereuse Criminelle have a distinct Little Kiddle note - a combination of plastic/rubber and flowers.  One more reason to love it.

Image: By Juni. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTDays: The slacking continues!

All righty, it appears that for the moment, this is not a daily blog. For the moment.

But, meanwhile, Iris Taizo continued for two more days. Friday, I wore Issey Miyake A Scent, to a party. I didn't really choose it - I was out of shower soap, and all I had was an A Scent shower gel sample. So that decided that.

Saturday was, of course, Scentless Saturday. Today got busy and I failed to perfume. Tomorrow? We'll see.

Meanwhile, spring is eyeing our town and I have some potential new gardening spaces. So there may be garden babble, perhaps in both blogs.

Or I might continue to nap. We'll see.

Image: By Serena. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTDays: Parfumerie Generale Iris Taizo, and grumpy scents

I've declared before that this is a good grumpy scent, and it's proven to be so again. After a scent-free Sunday, I wore this on Monday, and it worked so well that I wore it again today.

Many scents start out waving their prettiest flags, and then settle into something deeper and darker--satisfying when I'm in a good mood, but not always when I'm not. This one starts out at its grumpiest, then turns prettier and sweeter over time. Maybe that's the key.

So, of course, I have to look at my wardrobe to identify other scents that do the same thing. Tubereuse Criminelle seems to qualify, with the gasoline-and-mothballs opening that slowly turns into mothball candy. And... um... that may be all. There are the scents that start out bracing and stay that way, like Fou d'Absinthe and L'Eau Rare Matale, but I don't see any others that start out in a Mood and then slowly develop into quiet comfort.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Pryzkuta. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD Parfumerie Generale Un Crime Exotique

Pfeffernusse.

Mmmmm.

But, wow, that clown is scarey.

Image: By Chordboard. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale L'Eau Rare Matale

Mmmm, tea...

I'm surprised to see that I didn't include this fragrance back when I wrote my post about my mythical reduced fragrance wardrobe. It's become an essential part of my perfume wearing habits, perfect in any weather.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale L'Eau Rare Matale

Ahhh. This one remains perfect, in all seasons.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Evan Swigart. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale L'Eau Rare Matale. And Cat Of The Day, of course.

This seems to be the first warm-weather scent to come back into favor when the weather starts to turn. There are weeks and weeks of winter left, but I'm enjoying it all the same.

In considering this not-yet-over blogging/writing dry spell, I realize that while I'm not writing a thing, I am reading--in January, I knocked off eight books and I'm munching my way through three more simultaneously. Maybe that's the answer--maybe my brain only supports incoming or outgoing, and not both at once.

Image: Frances Simpson. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Iris Taizo

(Sunday? No perfume.)

Today I wore Iris Taizo, and it was lovely, but that seems to be all I have to say.

Maybe this writing dry spell will end tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I fill in with kittens.

Image: By Sals der Erde. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTDays: Perfume logging catch-up

I skipped perfume logging days! Noooo!

So, Friday I was unscented, on the same principle as Scentless Saturday--I spent the day with Himself, and Himself likes a lack of perfume on occasion.

Saturday I wore Un Crime Exotique, because it's a fine holiday perfume that I haven't worn enough. But it wasn't quite right for my end-of-vacation lamenting mood; too happy and sweet.

Sunday, we threw one final holiday party, the second annual Eating Junk And Watching Rubbish event, so of course I wore Sushi Imperiale.

Today, so far, I've worn nothing; I'm still in holiday jet lag, so to speak. I really should go correct that. The perfume, that is, not the jet lag.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTDays: Parfumerie Generale Tubereuse Couture and Heeley Cardinal

On Wednesday, I wore Tubereuse Couture. It was as lovely as ever, but gorgeous slightly dirty buttery flowers with a streak of green weren't what my brain wanted. I didn't know what it wanted until I got a whiff of smoke late in the day--I don't know if it was a snuffed candle, a match, or someone's perfume--and I developed a sudden inconsolable longing for incense. Not flowery or fruity or herbal or spicy or otherwise gussied-up incense, but just plain old incense. This is a brand new craving for me.

So today I wore Heeley Cardinal. Perfect. The opening was a fraction fruity--I have no idea what note was involved; the cistus?--but now it's plain, not-too-dry incense. The sample is almost empty and I'm thinking about a decant. Actually, that's a lie--I'm thinking about a bottle, but That Would Be Wrong.

Image: By LeonWeber and Heidas. Wikimedia Commons.

We Three Kings - Myrrh - Parfumerie Generale Querelle

So. Myrrh. Gold is happy and glittery. Frankincense is spiritual and serene. Myrrh?

Death. At least, that's my take on the major symbolism. Death and suffering. And what kind of third post is that, the day before Christmas? I'm not clear on whether myrrh was intended to comfort the sufferers, or just symbolized the suffering, like a smell that served the same purpose as a shroud or black funeral clothes.

I've been talking about my childhood self in these posts, though I can't claim that that was a plan. (I can't claim that I had a plan.) I remember the first death that I grieved, that of the retired policeman, infinitely tall and reassuringly wide, that supervised the crosswalk that I used to get to kindergarten--no doubt with Mom watching all the while, but I remember it as a daily journey on my own, my first foray out into the world.

He would talk to me and, amazingly, he got me to talk back, four-year-old me who was all but mute even with my kindergarten teacher. He died that year, and Mom quotes something that I said when I was told, probably something about Heaven, and definitely a protest against the idea that he wasn't coming back.

I don't remember the quote.  I do clearly remember the first day crossing the street with his replacement, a much younger man, perhaps a new recruit instead of an old retiree. He was bright and cheerful and efficient, putting the best face on a job that he no doubt hoped would be extremely temporary. He wasn't the least bit interested in pausing to wait for a tiny person to choke out something to say; I remember trying to get a verbal feeler out, trying to transform him into a substitute for "my" policemen, and him bustling brightly away before I'd even gotten started. I realized that no one was like my policeman, and that my policeman was indeed not coming back.

So that was death. To steal from that poem, I did not approve. I still miss him. I sometimes wish that I could send a decades-late reminiscing sympathy note to his family. He continued to populate my mind for a long time; I thought that Santa Claus must surely be like him, and perhaps one of the Three Kings, too, was a good man near the end of a life of responsibility, not just worshiping a King but reaching out to a child.

Now I've gone and made myself cry and, y'know, Querelle is good for that. Maybe myrrh was for comfort after all. The descriptive material on LuckyScent refers to this as "sensual", to use one of the milder adjectives, and apparently the namesake film is... well, I'm just not going there at all, because I get none of that from this scent. Querelle is a medicinal perfume to me, clean and sharp, with that protective feel that I get from Fou d'Absinthe, even though there's very little similarity otherwise. It is a bit inhuman, but in a sorrowful way, not a dangerous one. Comforting, and very peaceful.

And there ends my Three Kings week, on a sad note, but it's good to remember an old friend. For more of Three Kings week, please have a look at these lovely blogs:

• All I Am - A Redhead
• Bonkers About Perfume
• EauMG
• My Perfume Life
• Notes from Josephine
• Parfumieren
• The Perfume Chronicles.
• Redolent Of Spices
• Scent Of The Day

And thank you, Krista and JoanElaine, for inviting me! I've enjoyed this very much.

Review Roundup: Basenotes and Fragrantica and Perfume Posse and Perfume Posse again and Smellbound and Perfume Patter and Snobby & Grouchy.

Three Kings Image: Three Kings Icon ©2010 Megan Ruisch
Crosswalk Image: By Susan Lesch. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Un Crime Exotique

Ahhhh.

Have you ever had pfeffernusse? They're little domed dense spice cookies, sometimes dusted with powdered sugar, sometimes coated with a slightly crunchy white glaze. I've always loved them at Christmas, usually with lots and lots of milk.

I normally don't like spice-heavy fragrances, but Parfumerie Generale's Un Crime Exotique smells exactly like pfeffernusse. It's such a precise rendition that I have to struggle to tease out the notes--at first, it's just the cookie. As I keep sniffing, I get the gingerbread, and the anise, and a trace of cinnamon, and... well, no, that's really all I can get out. LuckyScent tells me that it also has Chinese osmanthus and tea and mate and vanilla and sandalwood. But if I stop analyzing, it just becomes pfeffernusse, and to me, that's the whole point.

Pfeffernusse is a Christmas cookie, making this a Christmas scent. I fell in love with it last December, but I restrained myself from buying a bottle, or even resniffing my sample. Who needs a fragrance that's only wearable for a month? But the world is full of discontinuations and reformulations, and I don't want to discover, too late, that this one is gone. So it's now basking on the new perfume shelf.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Dan Phiffer. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTW: Mitsouko EDT (Modern), and Illusions

Musette has put me on the first step of the path to (possibly) loving Mitsouko. And, as an added bonus, Bois Blond.

I've always hated the smell of stale nuts or rancid oil. I seem to be particularly sensitive to that smell, so that when others are merrily enjoying nuts or a nutty pastry or something sauteed in oil of unknown age, I'm left wondering why they're not all joining me in saying, "eeew." I need my nuts to be so fresh that they have that almost-sweet scent, and I'm so picky about oil that Himself now has me sniff or taste the oil before we cook anything ambitious in it.

There are perfumes that have that stale nut scent. I've more than once noticed it in Bois Blond, and on Sunday when I tried Mitsouko again, I got a subtler version of it - subtler, but still dominating the fragrance for me.  I'm pretty sure that this is what's always put me off Mitsouko in the past.

Now, it's not as if that smell is inherently dreadful. The problem is that I associate it with food gone bad, and as long as that's true, it's dreadful for me. I've tried to dissociate it from food, but I've failed. Then Musette said this, about a "gasoline-edge" in Mitsouko. And then, on Sunday, I wore Mitsouko.

Oh. Yes. That note does definitely smell like gasoline. It smells like stale nuts, too; I can sniff it and let the interpretation go back and forth, like that picture up there. (Duck? Rabbit? Duck?) And just as I can decree that the picture is of a rabbit, I can choose to read that note as gasoline. And I'm OK with the scent of gasoline. It's weird, but I like weird. And it's not the least bit edible.

Now, this doesn't yet mean that I love Mitsouko, but it does mean that I can move past "Eew! Stale!" and have a shot at really perceiving it. This is a good thing. I owe you, Musette.

(As a side note, I've more than once mentioned getting a gasoline note from Tubereuse Criminelle. And I do still smell it, but it has essentially no resemblance to the gasoline note in Bois Blond. I don't get it.)

Image: Wikimedia Commons

SOTD: Assorted. And MIA bottle.

First, I wanted to wear Parfumerie Generale L'Eau Rare Matale. But the bottle's missing. Gone. Nowhere to be found. This is not normal. My bottles live in very specific places, and I've never misplaced one before. I did go traveling recently, but I brought a decant. So I'm at a loss. Do we have some thieving and now really good-smelling mice?

So instead, I wore L'Artisan Parfumeur Tea for Two. Yes, it's a lovely scent, yes, it's perfect for the fall weather, blah blah blah. But scent cravings are not transferable, and I wanted L'Eau Rare Matale.

Then I took a shower before an evening appointment in close quarters with strangers, so I put on a little Pacifica Tuscan Blood Orange solid, for minimal projection and sillage and therefore minimal potential annoyance.

But where's that bottle?!

Review Roundup for L'Eau Rare Matale: is here and for Tuscan Blood Orange is here and for Tea for Two is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Aomassai

It was Sunday. I was hungry. So I sprayed on a sticky pastry.

And that's all.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Peter Stadler, Vienna. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Iris Taizo

I went into the office. This always gives me a disoriented feeling - I usually work from home. It was odd - but pleasantly so - to actually see coworkers, and startling to realize that time passes. New haircuts, new tans, new fashions, new quirky toys and posters in the cubes. And they're no longer selling junk food out of the office fridge. Hmph.

Entering the office also, of course, means that I have to wear respectable street clothes, and have some concern for whether my perfume is too weird. I was pleased to realize that any of the newbie bottles would have done fine, but I went with a single spray of Iris Taizo, which I think of as particularly sober and well-behaved.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Iris Taizo

This used to be called Iris Taizo. Parfumerie Generale changed the name to Iris Oriental, and I've been politely using both names. But I've decided that I prefer Taizo, so forget the politeness - that's what I'm calling it.

It's a very satisfying fragrance, but one that demands a little work - it's sharp and grainy and challenging, then slowly sweetens over a very long time. I've discussed it before - I was dubious, and then I was undubious, and then I declared it a grumpy day comfort scent, and now I own it. Woohoo!

It's a scent that I wear for the basenotes rather than the earlier stages - what I refer to as a drydown scent. Serge Noire is my main example of this category, and I recently learned that Tocade is one, too. I particularly enjoy these scents - the faint hint of the basenotes makes me love an opening that I don't really like, and then the destination that I do like keeps on growing, as if rewarding me for giving the opening a chance. Like dessert after eating my greens.

Review Roundupl: Is here.

Image: By Carol Wycoff. Wikimedia Commons.