Stuff and Nonsense

This week I received a package of vials from Olfacta including all kinds of essential oils and absolutes.  Most of them I'd never smelled isolated this way.  There were:  myrrh, frankincense, civet, labdanum, castoreum, tuberose, rose, jasmine.  Many others.  I couldn't help myself and poured many of them into a mix I'd made a few days earlier.  The vials still smell, thankfully, so I can use them as references, but my own oil smells MUCH much better now, too.  The oakmoss she sent was particularly rich.  I'd smelled oakmoss at various places but nothing remotely this aromatic and downright mossy.  It was practically chocolately.  I've visited a few distributor sites over the last several years, wondering if I should dip into mixing my own more zealously.  Having smelled these, and dumped them into the same pot so impulsively, I know that would be a pretty dangerous (i.e. expensive) move.  But I continue to fantasize about my own little lab.

I've been watching a lot of old movies lately.  Mostly Ingrid Bergman.  I got a DVD set of three films she made before Hollywood "discovered" her.  I can't even imagine a time anymore when someone could truly be discovered, imported, and shaped that way.  Everyone discovers everything at this point.  It's all there, circling around the internet.  We're all flies on the wall and know every room, every little pocket of the universe, it seems.  People, things and places have maybe lost that same kind of epiphanic sense of discovery.  Of course, Ingrid Bergman has a life before Hollywood claimed her.  Judging by these films, a very full one.  She had a distinct personality and the studio bosses seized on what was already there.  But no one had yet seen it on youtube and it must have been shocking to see her on screen, over here, for the first time.  Even I'm shocked a little, watching her in these films.  She's speaking a language I don't understand and yet I feel I get what she's saying, because her face and voice are so universally expressive.  She was so young - and had such maturity in her youth - that she seems like someone you would have no choice, given the opportunity, but to want to know all about her.

I went from watching these films to seeing the premiere episode of this season's True Blood, which by comparison seemed harsh, shrill, brassy, and infinitely sloppy.  So much thought went into presenting and showcasing Bergman.  I watched True Blood wanting something that focused, someone that brilliantly lit and felt, to appear.  No such luck.  There's really no star power in the show - judging by this episode, which is trying to be all things to all people and ends up feeling like a room full of gnats vying for your attention.  The show's version of the shock generated by seeing Bergman on screen was to suddenly make Tara a lesbian.  I don't know, the tawdry aspect of this show, once sort of a cheap thrill, feels a little morning after at this point.

Abigail told me she is adjusting to the sordid heat of her new environment.  She went from hot and dry to hot and humid, which is as some of you know a very different thing.  Everything seems too much to her, she said.  She puts on perfume and it's way too heavy, way too thick.  Cloying, maybe.  People say this about our weather but I get the opposite.  Everything feels insufferably sheer on me.  My friend Jack says my problem is I don't put nearly enough of anything on.  I'm the sprayer's version of a dabber.  But I do spray profusely and it's just...poof, all gone.  About the only things that really bloom on my skin this time of year are Norma Kamali Incense -which I discovered, after receiving Olfacta's vials, is as much Labdanum as frankincense (who knew these were so similar in so many ways?) - and Habanita, which is rich and robust in the winter but rises from the skin with the steamy quality of hot asphalt in the summer.

I'm looking forward to the new Gaultier.  Kokorico.  Yes to cocao.  Hit the like button.  Yes to the bottle, which is fantastically tacky and looks like one of those novelty lighters good-time smokers and cocktail party hosts used to sit out on the glass-topped coffee table, right next to the cigarette dispenser in the shape of a dog.  Press the button and the mouth drops out a Marlboro.  Big ceramic lobster ashtray nearby.  Yes to another Annick Menardo fragrance.  Here's hoping it's less the sugar overload of Lolita Lempicka, more the rich buttery gourmand of Hypnotic Poison and Kouros Body.  Yes to fig leaf, naturally.  But I worry about "woody", which often seems marketing shorthand for Meh.

A Tale of Four Figs: Comparison and review of 4 fig fragrances

Fig fragrances have been a big trendy craze in perfumery for more than a decade now. It’s not often that I think there’s good reason for a big, trendy craze, but with fig fragrances, I do.

I’ve never been to Greece, but like any perfume whose aroma transports me, fig fragrances take me to an idyllic country scene, where I picnic under a shady tree overlooking a fig vineyard. Of course, since its Greece, I’m picnicking on olives, feta cheese and grape leaves with a bottle of good wine.

The first fig fragrance I ever tried was Diptyque Philosykos. Philosykos is a gorgeously green, leafy and woody fig scent. It’s as if Diptyque put the whole fig tree in a bottle, leaves, twigs, bark and fruit. Philosykos is very dry and yet obviously the story of a fruit. The lasting power is excellent and the sillage is just enough to make you smell nice but not obnoxious.

Next up is Jo Malone’s Wild Fig & Cassis which is also a gorgeous fig fragrance. Jo Malone’s fig is very ‘figgy’ and by that I mean fruity. It makes me think of fig jam in a bowl surrounded by leaves and greenery. Jo Malone’s fig is sweet and supposedly combined with cassis which is blackcurrant, a tart purple berry. Fig & cassis is a lovely combination, to my nose it’s both sweet and tart, a perfect combination. Jo Malone’s fig fragrance is nicely wearable; it’s what I imagine to be the most mainstream fig scent of those that I’ve smelled. The lasting power is also good, about 4-5 hours.

L’Artisan Premier Figuer Extreme was created in 2003, nearly a decade after the original non-Extreme formulation. I’ve never smelt the original, because I only purchase L’Artisan in the extreme formulations since L’Artisan seems to last barely a nanosecond otherwise. Premier Figuer Extreme is a very soft, milky, creamy, coconut fig. It’s not very green nor woody, it’s closer to a gourmand-ish fig scent. I wrote “ish” very specifically because it’s not a gourmand, it just verges on becoming one. There is a slight green leafiness and a smidgen of sandalwood to keep the “milky figgy” note interesting. This is a very soft and pretty scent, its passive when compared to what I might call Philosykos’ aggressive fig scent. Premier Figuer Extreme is complex when I compare it to the other fig scents I have, it’s just that it doesn’t scream “fig!” to me, so when I reach for a fig scent, I hardly ever reach for this one. Like most L’Artisans, the lasting power is never enough, perhaps 2 hours, and the sillage is non-existent.

Miller Harris Figue Amere is an oddball fig scent. There are several Miller Harris perfumes that I simply adore and this is not one of them. The name ‘Figue Amere’ is supposed to translate into ‘salty fig.’ Salty figs might be interesting, if it smelled like salty figs. To me, Figue Amere smells like chocolate with a teensy bit of fig if I really really focus on finding that fig note. Figue Amere is very sweet and I don’t detect a green or woody note at all.

My favorite fig scent is Diptyque Philosykos. Perhaps it’s because it was the first fig fragrance I tried; the one that taught me what a fig tree is ‘supposed’ to smell like. I also rather like Jo Malone’s Wild Fig & Cassis if I’m in the mood for something sweet. Philosykos is verdant, woody, strong and seems to scream “I am a fig tree, hear me roar!” I would like to sample L’Artisan’s original Premier Figuer, but I don’t imagine I’ll ever buy a bottle of it, due to the notorious lack of staying power of L’Artisan cologne. For the cost of L’Artisan perfume, I find the lack of tenacity to be unacceptable. If it were a $50 bottle, I wouldn’t judge it so harshly and I’d happily reapply, but since it’s pricey, I’m a tough critic.