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: Nothing.

Still no perfume. What's the deal? Is it the weather? Is it... well, the weather is my primary theory.

However, the Urge to Sample has returned. More specifically, the Urge to Buy Samples. Buying samples is, of course, not a straightforward process. With hundreds of possibilities, and a very good and convincing reasons to buy every one of them, there's a lot of cycling in and out of the Perfumed Court and LuckyScent carts. And, of course, Aedes and BeautyEncounter has some samples too. You get the idea. Candy stores.

Recent candidates include:

• The Pefumed Court Les Exclusifs coffret. I like the idea of getting all of these in hand at once. On the other hand, I'll be in a Chanel boutique in just a couple of weeks, so shouldn't I just sniff and beg there, to smell some of them for free? Of course, if I set foot in a Chanel boutique, I might well walk out with that thermos-sized bottle of Cuir de Russie, so that could be a mistake. 
• Caron Alpona, as part of the ongoing quest for the perfect orange. Of course, it's discontinued; no one ever said it would be an easy quest.
• Annick Goutal Heure Exquise, based on Mals' throwdown at Muse With Wooden Shoes.
• Vintage Bandit EDT. I loved the modern version. Is it really wise to experience the vintage, given that it may be much better? It's another Something Else To Grieve decision. (Has that concept reached acronym status?)
• Caron Tabac Blond. Glorious and discontinued. Or formulated. Which is it? I forget. Anyway, STETG. (Or should that be SETG? I prefer the first one.)
• Lancome Climat. Also Mals' fault. I'm just saying.
• Parfums de Nicolai Number One. I used up this sample, loved it, and need another one. Or possibly a really big decant.
• Strange Invisible Perfumes Fire and Cream. Another candidate for the orange quest.
• Parfumerie Generale Haramens. Not just discontinued, but a special edition in the first place. Why on earth would I want to do this to myself?

And those are just some of the top candidates. Today.

Photo: By Frank Kovalchek. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Un Lys, and samples, and glamor

Today was one of those days when I looked at the perfume ranks, picked one up, and put it on, with no debating or fussing at all. Intense, flowery, grainy Un Lys was perfect.

When I put it on, I was reminded of Debby H's comment about the aesthetics of samples.

I agree that the usual sampling experience is highly unsatisfactory. Wearing a drop or two of something magnificent is lovely. Prying a plastic cap off a recalcitrant vial and then arguing with the vial until it deposits the right amount on the right spot - or until it doesn't, and you've accidentally perfumed your necklace, watchband, or floor - is not. There's no ceremony. No glamor. Perfume, I think, should have glamor.

So what's this got to do with Un Lys? Well, the lack of glamor particularly bothered me with Un Lys. It's rich and feminine and carefully crafted, and even a drop can fill the space around me. So each drop seemed to deserve respect.

So  I gave my Un Lys sample a more appropriate home, decanting it into a pretty little half-ounce dabber bottle. It does seem to make all the difference. Instead of arguing with an ill-mannered vial, I can gently tip the bottle to wet the stopper (OK, I have to turn it upside down; it's a small sample), and ceremonially dab the perfume on my pulse points.

I enjoy that. I bought the first of these bottles ("apothecary bottles" from Accessories for Fragrances) for a perfume oil, because oil particularly needs a controlled-dab approach. But I liked the bottle so much that I bought another ten or so, plus a supply of tiny disposable funnels to fill them without disaster. The empty nine (or so) bottles lurk with my perfume collection, waiting for more very special samples or decants.

Of course, only samples or decants that I already love get this special housing - the first sniff remains unglamorous. If I have high expectations for a sample, I may decant the vial into a cheap sprayer. I suppose that I could try to add a bit more ceremony to this - no glamor to speak of, but a sort of mad scientist lab-bench puttering as systematically transform my vial samples into neatly labelled inexpensive glass sprayers arrayed in rows in, well, some container.

None of this fundamentally transforms the sampling experience - and it does make it more expensive - but it's a start.

Photo of Sarah Bernhardt: Wikimedia Commons.
Photo of bottles: Mine.

Perfume: Communing With the Sample Hoard

I've been separated from my sample hoard recently. We are now reunited. Celebration (and stinkiness) will ensue.

I love my sample hoard.

It's a smallar hoard than it was this summer, because I've been inflicting samples on the unwary right and left, in the hope of creating new perfume freaks.

This makes the hoard more focused and easier to spread out on my desk without baggies and vials falling off the side (as often). So I love it all the more.

In my earlier Must Try Everything!!! phase of perfume freakery, samples could be a source of anxiety. Gotta try it, gotta try it again, gotta test it through the drydown, gotta decide!! Aaaaaack! Now, I accept that I will never try everything, and that perfumery is not becoming a lost art. So I'm just going to play.

So what's in the hoard? What I haven't tested sufficiently, what I'm keeping until I can spring for a bottle, and what I'm in denial about. I'm going to type as I play with the bags and vials, and inflict a very long post on you.