Perfume: Random Thoughts

When Coco Noir came out I was afraid that Chanel's perfume history was over. Today I'm wearing three (sample) sprays of 1932. (EDITED FOR FTC DISCLOSURE: I GOT THE SAMPLE FOR FREE. FREE, I TELL YOU, FREE.) I'm not worried about Chanel any more. I'll write a proper review one of these days, but meanwhile, just to be on the record: It's good stuff.

I'm still thinking of buying Din Dan. Tapdancy lemons. Yum.

Have I mentioned the Neighborhood Sample Swap? I don't think I have. I really need to write a post about it.

Kitty feet!

OK, that's all I've got.

Edited to add Footnote: Returning to the FTC disclosure realm, I received a free sprayer sample of 1932, along with tiny samples of cologne, mascara, and some kind of cream, from a kindly Chanel rep, I believe in the context of my role as a customer (I bought a Les Exclusifs bottle from said rep's store) rather than a blogger. Does this mean that I'm not allowed to praise the perfume until I buy a full bottle? Am I not allowed to even then, because I once received some for free? Can I say sheesh?

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: 28 La Pausa

Smells like Chanel.

No, that's not a review. But that was my first thought when I applied this, this morning. And all day, when I caught those now-and-then whiffs.

What makes Chanel smell like Chanel? I need to think about that.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

Perfume: My Favorites

I love Hostess Ding Dongs. (I'd better run out and find some before they're gone forever. If they aren't already.) I'm not under any illusion that they're a high-quaity example of the pastry-maker's art, but I love the things anyway.

I mention this because I've been thinking about the difference between the perfumes that I hold in the highest regard, and the perfumes that I love the most. If I were required to come up with a list of the ten finest perfumes, I'd spend a long time fussing and researching and come up with a list of mostly well-regarded creations. If I were required to come up with the ten perfumes that I'd limit myself to for the rest of my life, I'd come up with a different list, after just as much fussing and researching.

When I want to come up with the perfumes that I love best, there's really not much fussing and researching; they just come forward and announce themselves. I'm slightly relieved to see that there are no real guilty pleasures in the lot, but that's just how it turned out, not evidence of any good taste on my part. 

So here they are, with links to the relevant Review Roundup. They're not presented in any particular order, except for their leader.

Chanel No. 19 Parfum: When the call comes for the favorites to come on stage, most of them gather together, chatting and giggling. They hang back and wait for No. 19 to calmly, coolly, push her way through the curtain and stand--arms folded; why am I wasting her time on this?--before the audience. No. 19 isn't easy, or friendly, or affable; she won her position on grounds of sheer beauty. Clear, knife-sharp green softened with just enough floral sweetness to barely--barely--keep her from drawing blood. I'm a little afraid of her, and so I should be.

Shiseido White Rose: I've been struggling to explain White Rose, and I finally realized what I was recognizing but failing to put into words: Her personality. See, White Rose is utterly beautiful; I can imagine falling down and drowning in the rose and being perfectly happy to die that way. But beauty, however glorious, can be dull without context, some dominant aspect beyond the beauty--without personality. For Chanel No. 19, that personality is the abstractness, the other-worldliness, the razor edge of the green, the fact that I can see her standing on that stage, impassively watching me and daring me to declare White Rose to be her equal.

White Rose has enough beauty to spare for caricature; when I smell her I get a vibe that's exaggeratedly classic. I see debutante balls--not the debutantes, but the still-beautiful mothers in their ball gowns. I see The Shop Around The Corner, the well-dressed lady settled comfortably by the counter, tended by deferential shop assistants scurrying with perfume bottles. I see black and white photos of ladies lunching, and lengths of pink taffeta, and those little hats called fascinators. White Rose is classic, gorgeously so, but she's laughing about it.

Aftelier Cepes and Tuberose: I sniffed this one quite early in my perfume obsession, after reading about it in 100 Fragrances every Perfumista Should Try. It was beautiful then, before I developed my craving for the weird, and it's still beautiful as that craving grows. Tuberose is a wonderful inseparable mix of clean and dirty, bright, clear sweet floral beauty and warm, close, unwashed animalic notes. Cepes & Tuberose adds earthiness and forest floor and fungus as another contrast with the clean and bright, and in time it also introduces an oddly edible browned butter note. The result is deeply strange, faintly repellent, and therefore glorious. 

Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale: Fire; brilliant cold flying sparks. Ginger tapdancing on a shining marble floor. That gulp of ice-cold root beer quenching a thirst that was created just for root beer to quench. An ice-coated winter tree with the sun blazing through it. This is winter joy, but a comfortable joy, not the almost-too-deep kind that nudges up to sorrow and sometimes makes you cry.

Balmain Ivoire: I mean the fairly recent version in the ugly square-column bottle, not the earlier versions, or the newer version in the nicer bottle, neither of which I've ever smelled. It's odd to love this one, knowing, as I do, that it's probably a sad travesty of the original. Odder, given that trumpeting aldehyde blast at the top, when I'm still not sure that I like aldehydes. But I don't care. I love that aldehyde blast, and the dry now floral/now green top that's tippety-tap-heels ladylike, a lady with old-fashioned manners but feminine power. My favorite part is the drydown scent of expensive soap, one of the most luxurious smells of any perfume. 

Serge Lutens Daim Blond: And here's more luxury, a warm silk-and-fur pool of it. Daim Blond smells of suede and fur, but the apricot and heliotrope merge with those smells, making them almost edible. Sushi Imperiale is a dancing scent, one of movement and freedom; Daim Blond is a long nap, wrapped in scented fur.

That's only six perfumes. What happened to Cristalle? Serge Noire? Tea for Two? Cuir de Russie?  don't know; I still love them, but at least today they didn't step forward with the crowd of favorites.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

Perfume: January Clip Show

So, several days ago I wore L'Artisan Tea for Two, as I recall because I was late getting ready to go to lunch and it was up near the front and so I sprayed it on, even though I thought I wasn't in the mood for something so sweet and foody. And it was perfect - not sweet and foody, but smoky and comforting, like wearing something with the warmth and squashiness of wool but the skin-softness of... well... not-wool, because I always find wool scratchy.

A day or two later I had plenty of time to choose my fragrance, and I chose Chanel Cuir de Russie, because I was absolutely positive that that was what I had wanted when I put on the Tea for Two. And, no, Cuir de Russie was entirely wrong. On that day it felt sour and thin and not at all comforting; cold slick leather upholstery in a cold car when all you want to do is go inside.

The next day I put on Tea for Two and it was, again, perfect.

And today I put on Aftelier Cepes & Tuberose, because I was wearing that new pink silk blouse for the first time and I wanted something feminine. I though that it might not work for winter, but, no, I found that it had the same deep squashy comforting feel that Tea for Two had, but with an added feminine vibe--a sort of "optional feminine"; I think that a man could wear this too, in spite of the tuberose.

It appears that I don't know my January tastes as well as I might have thought. So I went through the blog to see what I was loving this time last year and the year before. Trends that I didn't expect include:

• I seem to have a January craving for smoke. Last year I was longing for Heeley Cardinal and snapping irritably at Serge Noire for failing to satisfy. This year Tea for Two is doing the job; I must try to remember for next year.
• In January 2010 I predicted that Cuir de Russie would be one of "the scents at the core of my wardrobe, the ones that make me smell like me". In January 2011 I didn't wear it once. So this year's lack of enthusiasm may not be a fluke.
• In 2010 I was less than thrilled with Un Lys; in 2011 I was delighted with Parfums de Nicolai Number One. I've always considered these two perfumes to be functionally redundant, though I long to own them both all the same. Maybe January is an excuse for buying Number One?
• I called Parfumerie Generale Cuir d'Iris "lovely" and "very satisfying", and I mention the sweetness in the drydown. I'm tempted to send off for some, though I said similar things about Iris Taizo. I suspect that these two are functionally redundant.
• I surprised myself by being delighted with Balmain Ivoire, a scent that I never would have thought of as belonging to winter. I should wear it tomorrow.
• I praised Aftelier Cepes & Tuberose, in a post that was more focused on crispy poultry skin.
• I enthused about biehl parfumkunstwerke hb01, a perfume with orange blossom and all sorts of fruit that I shouldn't like in January. what's with that?
• I enjoyed Cadjmere, and Daim Blond, and Aomassai, and Fendi Theorema, and Feminite du Bois. At least not everything is a surprise.
• And I wore Orange Star twice in a row.

So what does it mean? I'm not sure, but I'll be pulling out some of the bottles that the above says that I loved, to see if there's a January trend. And I may need a decant of that parfumkunstwerke thing.

Image: By Petritap. Wikimedia Commons.

Perfume: More Chanel Sniffs, and some Lutens

I ran by Nordstrom's one last time, to sniff more of those Les Exclusifs testers.

28 La Pausa: For the first few minutes, this was sunlit-bright, feminine without being girly, tangy without being citrusy; very nice, though not really exciting. Half an hour later, it was... celery. I've forgotten which note it is that I read so often as celery--ah, yes! It's cedar; I realized it when I read "pencil shavings" in the one-sentence review in BitterGrace notes. Half an hour after that, it shifted from celery to a friendly well-behaved iris, one of those moderately complex, slightly mysterious scents that I don't fall immediately in love with, but that I can imagine becoming addicted to. I think this is worth a modest decant, to help me make up my mind.

31 Rue de Cambon: I didn't like this one bit at first. I got a very rough, furniture-polish or cough-syrup-without-the-fruit opening. Later it grew much sweeter, leathery, providing much of the pleasure of a gourmand without actually including any edible-seeming notes that I could point to. It's dark and dense from beginning to end, while 28 La Pausa is bright and transparent all the way through. If I were the sort to buy perfume on impulse, I suspect I'd be ordering a (small) bottle of this right now.

One thing that I'm realizing from all this Chanel sniffing is that I'm developing a dangerously modern nose--I keep judging these fragrances from the top notes, and being surprised when they utterly transform within half an hour. Oh! And that reminds me:

Serge Lutens Jeaux de Peau: I tried this one at The Perfume House.  I keep being surprised that Serge Lutens' top notes sometimes seem to last for hours before the heart of the scent, much less the base, is revealed. The beginning of this scent was entertainingly yummy, but it was a little too gooey to make me happy--it mostly just made me laugh. I'd largely dismissed it, until I smelled it two or three hours later and found that it had settled down to something more grainy and dry, not in the sense of less sweet, but in the sense that the smooth-frosting "gooey" vibe was gone. I love sweet and grainy, so I'm rethinking this one.

Serge Lutens Vitriol d'oeillet: Cranky and medicinal. I like medicinal. I need to try this again, but that's all I have to say; all that sweet buttered toast on my other hand distracted me from paying this proper attention.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

Perfume: Quick Chanel Sniffs

We're spending a few days at a hotel that's two minutes' walk from the downtown Portland Nordstrom's, which has a surprisingly good perfume department. It isn't, sadly, good enough to have many niche fragrances, except for Bond No. 9, and I have Issues with Bond No. 9. So when I drifted through, I spent my time sniffing Chanels.

No. 5 EDT: My main experience with No. 5 is my miniscule gift-set bottle of the parfum, which I perceive as strongly structured, smooth, and glowingly aldehydic for hours. The EDT, in contrast, dried down to something soft, powdery, and a little bit fruity, in less than an hour. I had expected the parfum and the EDT to be essentially the same thing, with different notes emphasized. But no; I'm perceiving them as fundamentally different.

No. 5 Eau Premiere, probably EDT: To my surprise, it's No. 5 Eau Premiere, smelled for the first time yesterday, that I see as a very closely-tied variant of the parfum. It started with a great deal of citrus, a bit more than I altogether approve of, but it dries down to the same firm architecture and glow that I get from the parfum. It still has, to me, a classic "old-lady" vibe, and I approve; nothing with No. 5's name should ever be mistaken for, say, a teen beach scent.

No. 19 Poudre, probably EDT: I love No. 19. (At least, I love the parfum.) I disapprove of flankers. So I was planning on hating this. But I found that I quite liked the top notes; they did have a family resemblance to No. 19, without doing anything to make me use the word "travesty". As it developed, it was oddly variable from sniff to sniff. Sometimes it had a good streak of green in the powder, making it a green comfort scent that I could like. Sometimes it was all retiring powdery boredom. I don't love it, but if I pretend that it doesn't carry the No. 19 name, I like its greener moments.

No. 22 EDT: Nordstrom's had Les Exclusifs testers! They told me that actually buying a bottle required a special order, but all the same, what are the odds of finding the testers? So I tried No. 22. (Why only one? All other sampling skin was already covered, that's why.) It wasn't at all what I expected--based on Luca Turin's review (I love his review of this one), I expected it to be sweet. It's not sweet, and I'm not getting the incense, and I'm not getting the white flowers. All I seem to be getting is a note that I perceive as one of the background notes in Chanel No. 5 parfum. This is a puzzlement; I'll need to try it again, with a nose not recently contaminated by any other perfume.

The dangerous result of this experiment is that I now plan to buy a .25 oz No. 5 parfum, and a 1 oz No. 5 EDT, in the not too distant future. I've mentioned my fear that I'll learn to love No. 5 after it's been reformulated out of existence; now that I am growing fond of it, I'm feeling all the more urgent.

Image: By Eric Pouhier. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Coco

There are perfumes that I want to like. Chanel Coco. Chanel No. 5. Guerlain Mitsouko and Shalimar and Jicky--really, all of the older classic Guerlains. Walking away from the classics, I also want to love Tauer L'Air du Desert Marocain, Parfumerie Generale Bois de Copaiba, Frederic Malle Une Fleur de Cassie... the list could go on.

I've found the right time to wear these: When I'm grumpy or stressed or expecting a bad day. See, I don't want to wear my favorites at those times, and weigh them down with negative associations. And I don't want to wear no perfume, because any perfume I don't hate is still better than no perfume. And it's not as if I hate those perfumes, I just don't love them. So if I learn to hate them, so be it. If I learn to love them, spiffy.

So today I wore Coco. I've mentioned that my main issue with it seems to be association with someone that I can't remember but apparently didn't like. I'm guessing that enough wearings will wipe that out. The other issue is that tiny tiny bit of fruitiness that I get behind the spices. The fruit that offends me isn't orange--I see that in notes lists, but I don't smell it, and it wouldn't bother me. At least one review mentions peach, and I think that's it. I like peach, but for me all of Coco's other notes belong to winter--oranges are a winter fruit to me--and that bit of fresh stone fruit clashes with them.

I suspect that I'd like Coco better if I'd never smelled Coco Mademoiselle. Just the sight of the Coco Mademoiselle bottle, with all that pink juice in it, makes me recoil. I can smell the pink in the perfume as well. And there's just enough Coco in Coco Mademoiselle to reverse-contaminate the parent in my memory's nose--when I smell Coco I get a memory of the pink. But I'll keep wearing it now and then; I'm confident that I'll grow fond of it in time.

I wore No. 5 the other day, pure parfum from that set of tiny (1/8 oz?) bottles that Chanel comes out with at Christmas, one I bought about five years ago. That was more successful; I like the otherworldly, don't-mess-with-me mood of No. 5. I can't pick out a single real-world note; I know that there are flowers in there, but they don't present themselves as flowers. It is, in fact, weird--the likely most famous perfume in the world is weird. I like that.

Image: By David Scelfo. Wikimedia Commons.

Cold Weather Gluttony Part Two: Chanel No. 5

So, I'm thinking of buying Chanel No. 5.

Not because I actually like it. I don't like it. But there are other classic fragrances that are slowly growing on me, and I'm becoming increasingly convinced that someday I will like it. And when that day comes, will it still be any good? Shouldn't I buy it now?

Now, I realize that this dangerous train of logic could apply to a hundred different perfumes. But this is, y'know, Chanel No. 5. It's that perfume. Shouldn't I have it? Shouldn't I be working on learning to appreciate it, just as I'm working on learning to appreciate Mitsouko and Coco? Shouldn't I?

Or is this just tying into that winter gluttony thing?

Ignoring my sanity level, are any of the currently available No. 5 concentrations any good? Extrait? EDT? Am I right to feel dubious about the EDP, or is that just from my experience with the No. 19 EDP?

Advise me or stop me. Take your pick.

Image of Ernest Beaux: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTDays: Chanel Cuir de Russie and Eau d'Italie Paestum Rose

Yesterday was Cuir de Russie and a new pair of shoes. I enjoyed it, but Himself expressed a protest at the sillage.

Today, it occurred to me that my increasing fondness for incense might justify giving Paestum Rose another chance. I did rather enjoy it, though I'm still not sure if roses and incense belong in the same fragrance.

And that is all.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Coco EDP

I had a problem with tuberose for a while. It made me grumpy and prickly and irritable, and my theory was that somewhere in my childhood there was probably some annoying woman who smelled of tuberose. I got over it, and now I love tuberose.

I lavishly sprayed my new bottle of Chanel Coco EDP, and it made me grumpy and prickly and irritable.

Oops.

That annoying woman apparently wore more than one perfume. Now, I'm confident that I'll get over it. Ignoring the associations, I do like this scent. I like the initial gingerbread notes, and I like the fact that they're accompanied with something sharp and tart and Chanel-like. I like the fact that the scent makes me feel like a grownup. I like the combination of Chanel and gourmand. It's all good.

I just have to forget the annoying woman.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cristalle

Vacaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaation!

Oh. Yes.  Cristalle. I thought that Cristalle was a warm weather perfume, but today I had a craving for it, and the craving was correct--it was perfect. In winter it was sharper, the oakmoss darker and the galbanum sterner and the sweeter, softer floral elements standing well back. Yes, I know that there is no galbanum listed in the notes for this fragrance, but I still smell it.

Did I mention vacation? Bwahaha!

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cristalle, and SOTE: Chanel No. 19

Two wonderful moods of green.

That is all.

First Image: Wikimedia Commons.
Second Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cristalle

Is there any situation for which Cristalle is not appropriate?

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cristalle EDT

Ramble One: I have a policy about perfume backups. I've mentioned this before. While I may admire other people's squadrons of bottles, I'm too hoarding-inclined to risk such a collection myself. So my policy is to own only one bottle of each fragrance, and to make that the very smallest size available.

But I have four bottles of Cristalle. Two minis and two full-size. And I'm keeping them all. So there.

Ramble Two: Tomorrow is Last Saturday. Bwahahaha.

Ramble Three: It's Friday. My brain has agreed to cancel its plans for escaping from my head, if I agree to stop writing code until Monday. (Have you ever dreamed in a programming language? It's very unpleasant. I can't blame my brain for rebelling.) So it's nap time.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Simplicius. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cristalle EDT, and the mythical reduced wardrobe.

This is one of the perfumes that makes me ask myself, once again, why do I have so many perfumes? Do I really need anything more than Cristalle, No. 19, and... well, let's think about this. "This" being a theoretical pared-down perfume wardrobe.

Cristalle and No. 19 would be the galbanum representatives. And they're incomparably beautiful, so I need them both.

I'd need some florals. A La Nuit for jasmine, Un Lys for sheer gorgeousness, and... I'd have to pick a tuberose.  Picking just one tuberose would be difficult, but I'm leaning toward Tubereuse Criminelle.

I'd need an incense. Serge Noire, of course. Turns out that picking just one incense is easy.

Then I'd need a woody fragrance. I have yet to find the perfect woody fragrance. It would fill the function of Art of Shaving Sandalwood, but it wouldn't be Art of Shaving Sandalwood - while I love it, it's not the ultimate, lifetime-loyalty wood. In fact, the perfect wood for me might be cedar.

Then I'd need Sushi Imperiale. Because I'm me.

Then I'd need something warm and animalic for winter. We're not in winter, so I'm not sure what that would be, or if I even own it yet. Vintage Bandit might be the one... no. Of course. I need Cuir de Russie. "Warm and animalic" isn't an altogether accurate description, but it's what I need all the same.

I'm missing at least three major categories - sticky gourmand, tea, and citrus. Much to my surprise, especially given how much I love teas, I feel that I can live without them all. Well, except for the mythical perfect orange - if I find that, it'll be in the lineup.

So that's, er, nine fragrances, assuming that I find the perfect wood and don't find the perfect orange. More than any normal sane person has, but a drastic reduction from my current collection. Could I be content with that?

It could be interesting to try, for a month or so. Theoretically. Y'know, someday.

Meanwhile, tomorrow I think I'll try Fire and Cream. Just because.

Image: By S Sepp. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel No. 19 parfum

Eep! I forgot my SOTD post!

Well, through the magic of backdating, here it is. Thursday's scent was Chanel No. 19 parfum. I've mentioned that I generally save this scent for days that are near-guaranteed to be pleasant. But I badly wanted to smell it, so I risked wearing it on a work day. And it was a medium lousy work day.

But No. 19 was its usual self, a combination of surpassing beauty and "you wanna make something of it?" strength. So maybe it's the best thing to wear on a bad work day.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cuir de Russie

I'm a geek. A pudgy geek with little fashion sense, a four-month-old haircut, and absolutely no knowledge of makeup.

Very few things can make me feel glamorous. This fragrance is one of them. I'm planning to keep it around.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cristalle, and the Eighty Percent Perfume

I occasionally think of a concept that I call the "eighty percent perfume". The idea is that while I can't imagine settling on just one fragrance, I can fairly easily imagine wearing the same one for, say, four days out of five.

This wouldn't necessarily be my very favorite perfume. When I try to find words to explain why, the phrase "heartbreakingly beautiful", seen now and then in reviews, comes to mind. The most beautiful things are often painful to spend too much time with. That's why No. 19 parfum, for example, is not an eighty percent scent for me - it's too lovely to wear every day.

But an eighty percent candidate should be lovely enough to wear day after day, changeable enough to stay interesting hour after hour, and not too jarring or challenging even on stressed or grumpy days.

I was going to make a list of perfumes that could be my eighty percent, but then I realized that I can only come up with two candidates: Chanel Cristalle, and Chanel Cuir de Russie. Both are perfect.  But I couldn't possibly decide between them, so maybe I'd have to make them both forty percent perfumes.

So, what's your eighty percent candidate?

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cuir de Russie

Yum.

Maybe I should buy the bottle after all?

Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: By Playboyrob. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Chanel Cuir de Russie

Important wardrobe tip: When wearing a silk scarf and spraying a scent on the back of your neck, make sure that you do these things in the correct order. Luckily, the scarf is a solid color, so it should survive the laundering.

Meanwhile, Cuir de Russie remains lovely. Still not quite as lovely as it is in cold weather, but I'm still thinking longingly of that giant monster bottle.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: Mine. The newly leather-infused scarf is not present in the photo.