SOTD: Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle

Today will be a busy and perhaps grumpy day. Tubereuse Criminelle seemed perfect.

Why is that? Is it because I used the phrase "gasoline-powered" about this fragrance recently, and I could use some extra power? Is it because on a grumpy day a purely beautiful fragrance seems wrong, seems as if it might be startled and hurt, all doe-eyed and wobbly-lipped, if I do get grumpy?

I don't know. And I'll running too fast to figure it out. But that's the fragrance for today, and I'm enjoying it very much.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: By Oxyman. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle (and note reconciliation)

Remember when I didn't like tuberose?

I'm over that. So over it. I'm doing everything short of chasing tuberose perfumes with a butterfly net. Is this how it is when you and a hated note reconcile? Do you love that note more than the ones that you were able to appreciate at first sniff?

Of course, it helps that I always appreciated that tuberose was beautiful. The dislike was an association thing. I felt irritated, annoyed, crowded, even as I could perceive the marvels of the note. It appears that piling up enough positive associations, mostly with Tubereuse Couture, was enough to drown the dislike as if it had never been.

So, I'm holding my own private tuberose festival. And Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle is a fine, fine festival exhibit.

The opening is challenging. People have compared it to Vick's Vapo-Rub or gasoline. At least one person (OK, me) has compared it to mothballs. The first time that I tried this fragrance, that put me off. That note skimmed off some of the beauty of the tuberose, and with tuberose on probation (at best) with me anyway, what's the point?

Now that tuberose and I are friends, I love the weird mentholated opening. It seems to add an edge of humor and an edge of, well, edge, to keep the flower from being purely Shirley Temple ruffles and batting-eyes pretty.

That anti-prettifying function is usually achieved in white flower perfumes with indolic notes, so this cleaner version is a nice change. It's similar in function to the green notes in Tubereuse Couture, but utterly different in the final result. It's strong, but also cold, smooth, solid, and a little distant - it's a presence, not a smothering blanket. It makes this a perfume that a (brave) man could wear, and I have a strong preference for unisex perfumes.

Much of the mothball weirdness wears off in the first hour, enough to let you see the tuberose clearly, but there's just enough of left to keep the perfume from being cloying.  Other things are going on, too - the listed notes are tuberose, jasmine, orange blossom, hyacinth, nutmeg, clove, styrax, musk, and vanilla.

I can faintly sense the spices and vanilla helping to bridge the gap between the flower and the mothballs. I'm guessing that the orange blossom and hyacinth are making the normally-indolic tuberose and jasmine a little cleaner and brighter.

I want. Tubereuse Criminelle is in the non-export line, so I'm going to have trouble getting my hands on it without going to France. But I'm sure that there are Ways.

Review Roundup: Now Smell This and Perfume-Smellin' Things and Bois de Jasmin and Sweet Diva and PereDePierre and For The Love Of Perfume and Perfume-Smellin' Things and Perfume Posse and Perfume-Smellin' Things again and Grain de Musc and Basenotes and MakeupAlley and Fragrantica and Eiderdown Press and Perfume Shrine and Perfumista dot org and Nathan Branch and Perfumum and FitForAFemme and The SF Examiner and Pink Manhattan (scroll down) and Perfume Nerd and Muses in Wooden Shoes and Scentsate.

Modified to add to the Review Roundup.

Image: Albert Joseph Moore, The Green Butterfly. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Tubereuse Couture (Again)

I'm wearing the same scent two days in a row. Inconceivable.

This makes me think of of the appealing but unlikely concept of the "signature scent".

I've always liked the idea of choosing a single fragrance that represents me, that I wear almost every day. The idea that if someone who knows me well smells that scent, they'll think of me. There's something very grown-up and classic and elegant about the idea.

It is, of course, never going to happen.

I also like the idea of a fragrance wardrobe. I once prioritized my fragrances, not by how much I liked them, but how urgently I'd want to replace them if I lost them. I was surprised to find that the top ten would actually make a very nice, pleasantly varied wardrobe.

A proper fragrance wardrobe would have one representative in the major fragrance categories - green, leather, incense, floral, wood, gourmand, and so on. And it would have at least one for every occasion - summer casual, winter dress-up, comfort scent, and so on. It would be a nice orderly group of six to twelve bottles, and I'd always know what to wear.

The top ten scents on my list filled the slots nicely - Chanel No. 19 as the green and also a dress-up scent, Tea for Two as the gourmand and winter comfort scent, Sushi Imperiale as - well, another gourmand, but also the holiday season scent, and so on. There were a couple of gaps, including "dress up floral", and no doubt Tubereuse Couture would now fill that opening. I could cut my collection down to ten bottles.

That's not going to happen either.

So the defensiveness begins: You don't see a person saying, "I want to have a signature entree", do you? That is, they don't say it meaning that they'll eat that entree for nearly every meal, and that they want their friends to think of them whenever they see a plate of corned beef and cabbage, or round steak, or whatever is their favorite.

They may make a fabulous corned beef and cabbage, or they may pride themselves in knowing what restaurants have the best vegetarian pot stickers. And they may have a "wardrobe" of several dishes that they make well and frequently. But that won't keep them from eating a dozen dozen other things, when they can get their hands on them.

So that's my excuse for the slightly excessive number of bottles and the incredibly excessive number of samples stored next to my desk. And if that excuse won't do, I'll come up with a new one tomorrow.

Article Roundup: Takes on the signature scent concept, or related thoughts, from Bois de Jasmin and Fragrance Bouquet and Perfume Posse and Perfume-Smellin' Things and Perfume Posse again.

Review Roundup for Tubereuse Couture: Is here.

Photo: By Mr. Checker. Wikimedia Commons

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Tubereuse Couture

I finally wore my new Tubereuse Couture! And I enjoyed it immensely.

I've been noticing that wearing a perfume that I own as a bottle is always different from wearing a perfume from a decant or sample.

Of course, this is partly because I can use the perfume lavishly. Given the number of bottles that I own, for me a bottle of perfume is not a temporary supply of something consumable, so much as a little machine that will dispense a given scent on demand, forever. Even a one ounce bottle is likely to be around  much longer than "permanent" possessions like the television or the refrigerator. So once I own a bottle, I can spray at will.

But there's also something about acquiring a bottle. About completing the transition from wondering, "Am I the kind of person who would own (whatever perfume)?" and becoming, indeed, a person who does own that perfume. A person who smells like that perfume, regularly.

So what kind of woman is scented with Tubereuse Couture? Well, tuberose is a classic ingredient of aggressive, knock-'em-dead femme fatale perfumes, a beautiful but thick, enveloping, smothering floral note. But Tubereuse Couture chooses not to smother - it adds a cold, sharp green note that chills and lightens the tuberose, so that the perfume withdraws a bit, keeps its distance, chooses not to exercise its power.

So it's feminine beauty and elegance, held at a distance, with hidden strength. Is that me? Not really, but apparently I'd like it to be. And the right scent can't hurt.

Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: By Forest & Kim Starr. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Robert Piguet Fracas, or, The aliens are among us

Huh.

Fracas is the queen of tuberose perfumes. In-your-face, unsubtle tuberose.

I don't like tuberose. I've mentioned this before. It annoys me. It reminds me of people that annoy me. It's indolic. Tuberose bad. No tuberose for me.

I like Fracas.

Did aliens swap out my nose while I wasn't looking?

Now, I was able to understand why I liked Parfumerie Generale Tubereuse Couture. That perfume soaks the tuberose with fruit and citrus and green jasmine and sugar cane and, y'know, stuff. It changes the tuberose into something else, into not-tuberose. Ex-tuberose. That explains my substantial fondness for Tubereuse Couture.

None of that is true of Fracas. Fracas is tuberose. It's practically the definition of the stuff. Sweet and, well, more sweet, and a smothering creaminess, and the orange blossom...

OK, I pause here to say that I also dislike orange blossom.

... and the orange blossom just adds more sweetness, and makes the combination even more floral, because tuberose is a little too creamy to have quite that sharp edge of floral'ness that makes me often dislike florals.

So, to summarize: I dislike tuberose. I dislike orange blossom. I dislike florals. I dislike indolic notes.

Fracas is packed to the rafters with all of these things, and I like it very much.

If you see the aliens, please send them to me. I want an explanation.

Review Roundup: Now Smell This and Bois de Jasmin and Perfume-Smellin' Things and Perfume-Smellin' Things again and Perfum-Smellin' Things a third time and Sweet Diva and Yesterday's Perfume and Feminine Things and Chandler Burr and Scentsate.

Link Roundup: WAFT and Boomtown Boudoir.

Edited to add to the Review Roundup and add a Link Roundup.

Image: By Lordoftheloch, Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Tubereuse Couture

Yum.

I've been experiencing intermittent wafts of tuberose all day. Good tuberose. Something that didn't exist, in my book, before I found this fragrance.

Clean tuberose always made me envision Annoying Women. I don't know why; it must remind me of someone. (Maybe an annoying grade school teacher?) And indolic tuberose was, well, indolic.

This perfume somehow manages to avoid both pitfalls. I think that the ylang ylang may be what's melding with the indolic notes and keeping them from making me uneasy. But they're there, and so is something close to a gourmand note, and that keeps it from being Clean Tuberose Of Annoyance.

So, yum.

I posted about this one before. Then, I was dubious but being drawn in, and planning to buy a decant. Now, I'm remembering the advice of a commenter on Now Smell This to "buy a damn bottle" when you love something.

Hmmm.

Review Roundup: Perfume-Smellin' Things and Aromascope and Fragrantica and Basenotes and The Non Blonde and Confessions Of A Perfume Nerd.

Edited to add to the Review Roundup.

Illustration: Wikimedia Commons

SOTD: Everything

So after perfuming Unpleasant Duties (like pretending I'm a grownup and actually keeping a doctor's appointment), I like to reward myself. The reward tends to be a rapid lunch-hour-sized sniff-fest at the mall.

So today I tried, briefly:

Thierry Mugler Angel: Never tried this before, which is rather like not having read The Da Vinci Code. It's nicer than I, in my perfume-snob persona, expected. I asked for a sample and will actually wear it soon. I might (gulp) buy it someday.

Digression: I got the sample at Sephora; I love everything about Sephora except their perfume selection.  Convenient, always-available testers, available but unpushy salespeople, and they'll always give you a sample. But they rarely have a perfume that I want, and even more rarely have one that I couldn't get cheaper at a discounter. So I make one guilt-based purchase a year (Angel next time, maybe?) to pay them back for the samples that I beg from them. And I restrain myself from urging them to stock Serge Lutens and Parfumerie Generale. But they should.

Robert Piguet Fracas: Another gap in my knowledge of long-popular perfumes. Tuberose and more tuberose, but toned down with enough other things to keep it from being smothering. If I liked tuberose the way that I like greens, I'd get a bottle. But I really only need one tuberose, and it's going to be Parfumerie Generale Tubereuse Couture.

Hermes Caleche Soie de Parfum: I wanted to try the original classic; I see after getting back and Googling that this is a reformulation. It still smells like a classic; I could see it having ladies' lunch with Arpege and Chanel No. 5. Unfortunately, that's a group of classics that I haven't yet learned to like.

L'Occitane Bergamot Tea: L'Occitane seems to have a lot more minis. As a consequence, I may end up owning a lot more of their fragrances. Bergamot Tea is bright, liquid, cheerful bergamot. It made me happy as soon as I sniffed it, and I bought the mini - my only purchase of the day. They had a solid, too, that smells just like the spray - something for me to keep in mind for flying.

L'Occitane Verbena: I find lemon verbena leaves to be a startling, almost candy lemon. This is very true to the leaves. It didn't force me to buy it, but it's nice.

Creed Silver Mountain Water: Nice. Refreshing. Bright. While it doesn't smell at all the same, for me this pretty much fulfills the same craving as L'Occitane Bergamot Tea, at a much higher price.

Tom Ford Velvet Gardenia, Moss Breches, Tobacco Vanille, White Suede, and Who Knows What Else: I staggered away from the Tom Ford display in a fog of honey, white flowers, leather, and tobacco, and I couldn't begin to describe any individual scent. I'll exert more self control next time.

Van Cleef & Arpels Muguet Blanc: Yet Another Gorgeous White Floral. Beautiful. High quality. Sadly, gorgeous white florals leave me almost entirely unmoved. Next!

Van Cleef & Arpels Orchidee Vanillee: Vanilla. For about ten seconds it was beautiful and I was wondering, is this a replacement for Indult Tihota? But, no, it turned plasticky on me. Next!

Van Cleef & Arpels Gardenia Petale: See Muguet Blanc, above. Next!

Van Cleef & Arpels Lys Carmin: OK, there is something going on here that interests me. I may try to get a sample.

Van Cleef & Arpels Bois d'Iris: Really very nice; I may be warming up to iris. So subtle that I'm sure that I didn't get the nuances (the Tom Ford fog was still following me around), but I liked what I could smell. It ends up in a gentle woody powder that reminds me enough of Serge Lutens Douce Amere that I'm not seriously considering buying this, but I will hunt down a sample to give it a chance to change my mind.

Estee Lauder White Linen: While I was trying the classics, I thought I'd try this again, to see if I like it. I still don't like it, but there's progress! The head-blowing aldehydes didn't bother me a bit. Now I just need to get past the amber.

Estee Lauder Estee: It's the kind of "old lady" floral that transcends old lady and becomes "vintage".  It's not your mother's perfume, it's your cool great-aunt's perfume. Flowers, wood, no modern fruity-floral notes. (Mind you, I like my share of fruity floral. But I have more than my share of anti-trend snobbery, too.) This is worth trying again.

La Prairie Life Threads Silver: Tuberose. Next!

La Prairie Life Threads Gold: OK, I can't even remember it. I remember perking up when orange was mentioned, and being unable to find the orange note. But, remember, I've sniffed about thirty perfumes by now. One common per-day recommendation is.... two.

La Prairie Life Threads Platinum: Interesting in an indescribable way while wet. When it dried down ... say what? The perfume in this lucite and metal bottle smells like it belongs with those lunching ladies, Chanel No. 5 and Arpege and Caleche, earlier in the post. Is it the iris? The oakmoss? The galbanum? All of them? I'm boggled. It's like seeing Mrs. Landingham from The West Wing in full goth garb. With a crumpet. The Nice Man behind the counter gave me a sample, so I have the opportunity to be boggled again. Please note that none of this is a criticism. This stuff may be fabulous; it's certainly not bad. I'm just too busy recovering from being startled to make up my mind.

Marc Jacobs Daisy: Adorable bottle. I can't remember the fragrance, which can't be good.

Marc Jacobs Lola: Adorable bottle gone psychedelic. I can't remember this one either.

Kiehl's Original Musk: I can see why this is a staple. Unadorned musk, respectable but not too respectable. It seems more like something to layer with other perfumes than something I'd use on its own.

Jo Malone Dark Amber and Ginger Lily: I was so stunned to find an amber fragrance that I don't dislike that I couldn't gather my thoughts sufficiently to see if I like this one. But... it's nice. Sweet and warm and wintery, at least to my nose.

I came home after all that to a box containing Rochas Tocade on the front porch. I think I'll just leave that unsprayed until tomorrow.

Illustration from Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Parfumerie Generale Tubereuse Couture

This one is a wafter.

Sniffed up close, I don't like it - a little too buttery, too thick, and simultaneously too sour. But it wasn't a scrubber, so I tried it again, just one spray on the back of my neck, because I was going sampling that day. And the wafts were glorious.

I can't imagine needing a bottle - just that one spray from a tiny sample atomizer was enough to keep the fragrance showing itself for hours. But I'll be keeping myself supplied with at least a decant.

(And, no, that's not a tuberose. It's Japanese Anemone Honorine Jobert, from my garden. Isn't it gorgeous?)

Review Roundup: Is here.

Photo: Mine