Rambling: Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, folks!

I collapse after evening gluttony, which followed morning gluttony, which followed Christmas eve gluttony. And I write. Maybe.

Except first, failing to say Enough is Enough, I eat a chicken finger with onion dip. And eat a Russian tea cookie. (Without onion dip. My dietary transgressions have limits.)

There are a lot of picture-free posts down below. So I added the feline yawn over to the left. Think of the cat as representing my brain. Complete with yawn and fuzz.

I just set up my sewing machine and my serger. I can leave them up for another week and a half until I get back to work. So I might make several of the six-gore skirt mentioned in the previous post. Or I might just sleep a lot.

I bought a pair of little green boots. These are further motivation for creating the mentioned skirts, because  little boots with a long skirt that hits the boot-top seem less "too young" than little boots with a short skirt.

We watched the Doctor Who Christmas special. The Doctor Who Christmas special seems to be my grown-up festive equivalent of The Grinch or Charlie Brown. Not that I don't still like those.

Lammily arrived. The Barbie substitute with human proportions, that Lammily? There she is, relaxing with her shoes off, communing with my favorite Christmas perfume. (Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale.)  I was going to make her a tiny Santa hat, but I got lazy.  But she does look like she needs some winter clothes. I've been wondering if photocopy-enlarging the little pattern-piece outlines on a pattern envelope might produce a usable pattern.

It does seem a little odd that I want to make doll clothes. I made 'em a lot as a kid for an adventuring Skipper (back when she was flat-chested) who travelled with a dog and an excessively large wardrobe. Lammily reminds me of her. I have a gorgeous piece of corn-yellow silk georgette that I keep imagining making into a doll dress,  even though the lost length would probably make it unusable for a garment for me.

I think that is all.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.
Second Image: Me.

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.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

I know, I know, it's a Christmas perfume, so what am I doing wearing it for Easter? But I saw it, and my mind said "Holiday", and I was a little sad and wanted those tapdancy sparkles, so I sprayed it on. And it worked. I don't know that I'll be wearing it much more in the spring, but it worked.

And...

Um...

I seem to have little to say about Easter. I've never been the religious type; to me, Easter is about chocolate and daffodils and tulips. And sometimes about gardening; I considered going out and planting some seeds today, but I turned lazy and stayed that way. I'm faintly disappointed in myself; next year, I'll plan ahead to do something involving pastel colors and sunshine.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Sushi Imperiale

Weeeeeeeeekend!

To celebrate, I wore Sushi Imperale. Even if spring is coming.

Image: By Mike1024. 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.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale. What else?

So, I wasn't sure what I was going to wear for Christmas. I was given a bottle of Hermes Hiris (woohoo!) and I gave myself a bottle of Chanel Coco. And Un Crime Exotique is, of course, a dandy holiday perfume. And Tea for Two is wintery and cuddly. And almost any of the winter oranges--Orange Star or Theorema or surely I have another one?--would have been festive as well.

And then it was 3pm and I realized, who am I fooling? It's Christmas. Sushi Imperiale, of course. Six sprays. Yum.

And then there were yams. And chicken fingers. And fried wings. And brussels sprouts and carrots with infinitely too much butter. And cake. And Russian tea cookies. And minty chocolate. And, generally, gluttony followed by napping and murder mysteries and junk television.

I hope that you all had a lovely Christmas of just the kind that you wanted.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Powerhauer. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

On Wednesday, we had a Christmas party. I believe that there was a moment when we had twenty-five people in our house. We watched It's A Wonderful Life, and our friend Karen made a cake of supreme amazingness--Himself will be presenting it properly in his blog, and I'll be linking there. (And here's the link!)

As a lifetime loner, a painfully shy person, a person who as a child rationalized that friends were a meaningless fiction rather like that huge Brady house, this is mindboggling. It's not brand new--we've been welcoming people to our home for a few years now. But I'm still stunned every time, still announcing, when folks have gone, "We had a party!"

I wore Sushi Imperiale, of course; it's the perfume with the the proper glittering tapdancing sparkle for the occasion. Thank you so much, everyone, for coming, and I wish that we could have had all you folks in blog land with us as well.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Marlene Thyssen. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

We were going to buy a Christmas tree today. So of course I wore Sushi Imperiale, the supreme Christmas scent.

As it turns out, the early part of the day was grumpy and frustrating and made us cranky, so we decided against being a bad influence on an impressionable new Christmas tree. We'll get one tomorrow.

But Sushi Imperiale was still lovely.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Image: By Jorge Barrios. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

Ginger sparkles. Yum.

But I still don't know why they name it after sushi.

Image: By Gabriel Pollard. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

Y'know, this might work in warm weather after all. It didn't work in early spring, but now the fizzy sparkly light-filled thing is working. Maybe it doesn't need snow.

Yum.

Photo: By Egoite. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

Sushi Imperiale is a lovely scent that some compare to various carbonated beverages - root beer, ginger beer, Dr. Pepper. This means that in theory it should be fine, even ideal, for warm weather.  For me, however, Sushi Imperiale has always been ice, snow, sleds, and spice cookies. In other words, a winter scent, though a bright, glittering winter scent, not a warm-blankie one.

So after confirming that the season is right for Cristalle, today I decided to see if it's wrong for Sushi Imperiale.  I had a faint hope that it would work, and that I could happily wear it in the spring.

Sadly, no. Today, it's just a picture of the scent that I love in winter - clearly recognizable, but not the same. Ice, but without the sun and fire.

Now I know, and I'll tuck it away safely until winter.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: By Barfooz. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

Today we had a Christmas party. So of course I wore Sushi Imperiale. What else could I possibly wear?

Actually, I'm surprised to find that I could have worn Un Crime Exotique (well, I could have if I owned more than a drained sample vial), or Thereoma. Where I had one winter celebratory fragrance, now I have three.

Do I need three? Does having three fragrances for one type of occasion add enjoyment to that occasion, because I have more choices? Or would I derive greater enjoyment from simply having one fragrance for the occasion, one that I know that I'll wear, that I put on as part of the ritual of preparing for the event?

I don't know, and I'm too full of cookies just now to say. But I'll be thinking about it.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: By Schlurcher. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

Someone on Basenotes recently asked what scent Santa would wear. Sushi Imperiale, of course!

So I wore it today for Christmas shopping. After I put it on, I thought for a moment that it might be a little too bracing for my sleepy self. But it turned out to be the perfect thing to wake me up for the outing, and right now for collapsing again at home after walking home with the bags.

Edited! because I forgot to point to the post with the Sushi Imperiale Review Roundup. Gotta have that.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

This is another one of Those Scents, the scents that smell like me. The core wardrobe. The ones I'd take to a desert island.

I can't really offer any review-like words, because Fracas hasn't altogether gone away since yesterday. But I talked about it here.

I'm getting alternating whiffs of Sushi Imperiale's glittering ginger, and Fracas's thick tuberose. I'm getting a vision of that sugar-crusted candied ginger, in a crystal bowl with heavy cream poured over it.

It's nice.

That is all.

Photo of candied orange peel (I know, but I couldn't find ginger) from Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sushi Imperiale

Ahhhh.

This one just makes me happy.

Someone described it as smelling like root beer. I can see that, though it's really old-fashioned root beer that's still made with real roots. There's also a ginger beer vibe, the strong real-ginger ginger beer. This isn't warm, bready gingerbread; it's a brighter and more electric ginger than that.

It's happy. It's silly. It's Christmas. It doesn't shine, it sparkles. White twinkly lights. White twinkly lights on an ice-covered tree luxuriating in billows of snow on a sunlit winter day, when you don't have to do anything but sit inside by the Christmas tree and admire the view outside. And the holidays are still ahead of you, and they're going to be good, and there are cookies in the house and, of course, you're going to eat them with the ginger beer. Ice cold ginger beer, but that's OK, because it's warm in here.

I've mentioned, I think, that I like this stuff?

Ahhhh.

Oh! And the Review Roundup: Smell-O-Vision and Fragrantica and Vetivresse and Perfume Posse and PeredePierre and Perfume Patter and EauMG.

(Edited to add to the Review Roundup.)

Photo: Wikimedia Commons, by Jake N. Click for more details.

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.

SOTD: Bois 1920 Sutra Ylang

Sushi Imperiale by Bois 1920 is one of my very favorite fragrances, so I always expect big things from this company's other offerings.

And every time I try Sutra Ylang I'm initially disappointed, thinking that it's a thinner, sharper, ambery (I don't like amber) bad imitation of Sushi Imperiale.

Then it dries down and transforms into a soft, shy, barely-sweet, lovely little sister to Sushi Imperiale, with more candied fruit and less ginger. It's very close to the skin - I think that the entire 1ml sample that I'm using wouldn't be enough to produce much in the way of sillage. But the skin scent lasts for a long time, and once in a while a waft comes up and surprises me.

So I once again remember why I'm considering a bottle of this.

Review roundup: Fragrantica and Now Smell This and Basenotes.

Photo: Wikimedia Commons