Michael Storer Stephanie

Michael Storer won my heart a long time ago with Monk. I’m pretty much always in the mood for deep, dark, balsamic, woodsy, musky and patchouli laden gems and Monk is most certainly a lot of these things. Truthfully I was so taken with Monk that I sadly ignored the rest of the Michael Storer line.

About two weeks ago I was decanting some Michael Storer Stephanie and I decided to give myself a spritz, not remembering what Stephanie was all about. I knew it was a white floral of sorts and I thought perhaps it was heavy on jasmine (not my thing) but that was all I recalled. When the fragrance first hit my skin it smelled of metallic alcohol. Ewww, I thought. But less than 2 minutes later the most gorgeous green gardenia jumped up and swatted me from the back of my hand. Whoa! Stephanie is not to be missed – she is one feisty little diva of a gardenia fragrance.

I then sprayed myself a few more times and settled in for the ride. Stephanie is an absolute must-try for anyone who loves the scent of gardenia. I think Stephanie is meant to be a real-life gardenia – a photographic olfactory image of gardenia blossoms. On me, it’s one better than that; it’s more like the dream of a perfect gardenia. A gardenia that is green, sweet and slightly clean but with the overall impression of perfume and not a bouquet of gardenia flowers. Think of what Frederic Malle Carnal Flower does for tuberose – this is what Michael Storer Stephanie does for gardenia.

I’m more of a tuberose-aholic than a gardenia fiend but I do have my share of gardenia scents. Kai is a lovely green gardenia but Stephanie knocks it out of the park. Isabey is a nice enough gardenia (actually I like the bottle more than the juice) but again Stephanie is the sultry winner here. The Annick Goutal I’d offer as being closest to Stephanie is Songes in EDT. I love Songes (in both EDT and EDP) too much to say Stephanie is better but it’s definitely in the same realm (and I adore Songes, it’s one of those desert-island scents for me). I also like Jo Malone’s Vintage Gardenia but after taking Stephanie for a spin, well, she makes Vintage Gardenia seem a little thin, waif-like, basically a tad Kate Moss-ish. A bottle of Van Cleef & Arpels Gardenia Petale is on its way to me so I can’t compare it yet. Basically, what I’m trying to communicate with all these comparisons is that Stephanie holds court with the crème de la crème.

Stephanie seems to me to be one half gardenia and one quarter each tuberose and orange blossom. These floral notes aren’t all listed, but this is my guess, because Stephanie has aspects of tuberose and there’s a bright clean quality that reminds me of orange blossom. I’m thankful for the slightly clean quality because real-life gardenia flowers can stink, I won’t mention like what (ok, fetid cheese and feet). Stephanie starts with a beautiful green floral burst, thanks to the galbanum, but then she quickly veers more floral than green. The greenness reminds me of Carnal Flower. There is pepper amongst the notes and even though I don’t detect the pepper prominently, I know it’s there, giving the fragrance some pizazz and vivaciousness. I’m glad the pepper doesn’t stick out because I’ve decided I do not like white florals with an obvious pepper note (I’m thinking of La Chasse aux Papillion Extreme and Rochas Poupee where I find the pepper completely jarring).

Michael Storer Stephanie is flat out gorgeous. She is a sultry, sweet gardenia with a little spice. Longevity is very good and sillage is nice (not too much, just enough).

Incidentally, we carry Michael Storer at The Posh Peasant. But you can also go directly to Michael Storer's main site.

A Letter to Dominique Ropion

Dear Dominique Ropion,

Two of your works of utter genius have, over the years, come to smell like “me.” First, there was Givenchy Amarige, which I wore non-stop in the mid-90’s, then, more recently, came Carnal Flower, which is so breathtaking and addictive that I’ve owned and drained 2 large bottles since 2006. (2 large bottles might seem like a bigger feat if you knew how many bottles I have).

Just this year, I found Caron Aimez Moi and Lalique Le Parfum and I will never be without either of these gems. Both Aimez Moi and Lalique Le Parfum are slightly less overtly vivacious compared with your other creations but each spotlight that trademark Ropion gorgeousness.

Thierry Mugler Alien is among the only jasmine fragrances that I love. In fact, it took a Ropion jasmine, in the form of Alien, to let me see and wear the beauty of a jasmine fl-oriental. Dominique, I didn’t even realize Alien was your work until recently, I should have known all along!

I’m still considering one of your creations, Une Fleur de Cassie. I haven’t ventured outside of the house wearing this yet ~ and I’m not sure if I love it or hate it ~ but Cassie has engaged me, held my attention, and it won’t let me go.

Vetiver Extraordinaire is just that, an extraordinary interpretation of vetiver. It stands out in the crowd, it sings, it’s a masterpiece.

Dominique, do your creations reflect your own personality? I admire the gregariousness of your scents. I enjoy the voluptuous, flirty, sexy, femininity captured in your perfumes. Your fragrances aren’t shy by any means, they love the attention, they’re comfortable in the spotlight, but they’re always warm and kind. Ropion perfumes aren’t introspective or subtle, they’re sociable, to be enjoyed in the company of others.

Rather than following the modern trend toward more discreet, sparse fragrances, you’ve continued to create big, multi-faceted, exaggerated scents. For this, I salute you. To me, a good perfume projects and has sillage. Your works can be counted on for proper projection and sillage. To this extent, your art contains a practical element, and I couldn’t be more delighted.

Carnal Flower, Alien & Amarige each strike me as exaggerated versions of flowers. Carnal Flower is tuberose under a microscope with big chunks of imagination; Alien does the same for jasmine and Amarige does the same for mimosa & orange blossom. The exaggerated flower analogy makes me think of Georgia O’Keefe and her flower paintings. O’Keefe painted enormous renditions of flowers, as if under a fantasy microscope, so a white petal wasn’t just a big white petal, but instead the detail of all the colors that came together to affect that beautiful white; the blue, pink and gray along with the white.

Dominique, this was meant as a note of gratitude and admiration. You’re a genius perfumer. And, just as important, never lose your gift of exaggerated beauty, and do continue creating fragrances that project and last.

Yours truly,
Abigail

PS: if you’re taking requests these days, I’m still hankering for a gorgeous osmanthus, or another mimosa jewel or perhaps an intriguing linden? Just thought I’d ask…

Sniff my Sillage, Baby

So often I read comments by fellow perfume fanatics on various blogs and forums that they don’t want the scent of their perfume to offend others. Most seem extremely sensitive and wary of anyone being able to smell their perfume, their sillage (aka scent trail) AT ALL. It seems that it’s now considered rude for anyone to smell your perfume except you. Perhaps that’s why L’Artisan is doing so well. Because surely, unless you have your nose stuck to your wrist, even you won’t smell a thing while wearing L’Artisan.

Oh, I sort of get it. I had a former colleague, who wore Giorgio, and she over applied it, to the point that her office perpetually wreaked of Giorgio as if she had sprayed the walls with it. I’ve also experience Calvin Klein Eternity on the subway, when the train had broken down, and the AC stopped, in the middle of July, and all of us passengers were cramped in that subway car like sardines with someone who must have mistakenly spilled an entire bottle of Eternity on herself (I had to think it was a mistake). So, yeah, I get it, it can be awful to be overcome by someone else’s perfume.

I’m *not* talking about over application. I’m addressing simple ordinary sillage. I absolutely want sillage from my perfume. I want individuals who enter my office to get a light whiff of my perfume. I want those who ride in the car with me, those seated right next to me, to smell my perfume. I wanted the person standing next to me in the elevator get a whiff. Call me crazy, call me rude, call me whatever you want, but I will not wear perfume that doesn’t have sillage. Without a doubt I wear perfume for myself. I wear perfume that I like, but I also unabashedly wear perfume so that others think I smell good (you can insert sexy, nice, unusual, smokin’, mysterious, in place of “good” depending on the day).

If a perfume is strong with mega-sillage, then I apply it lightly. I’d much rather have the issue of too much sillage, and adjust to a lighter application, than too little sillage, leaving me to douse myself to smell a damn thing. Take Lou Lou by Cacharel for instance. The past week I’ve had a Lou Lou reunion. Lou Lou has amazing sillage and longevity. The fact that I adore the scent of Lou Lou coupled with its tenacity and sillage means I think Lou Lou rocks the free world. Other good examples are Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur and Carnal Flower – props to Malle for these creations. Keiko Mecheri’s Loukhoum, while ethereal and delicate, is a beautifully tenacious juice – props to Ms. Mecheri for creating a sillage sensation. I could go on and on but you get the point.

Bottom line: I hope this over-sensitivity to fragrance doesn’t get any worse and in the meantime ~ sniff my sillage, baby.

The Experiment

I’m working on a theory about perfume compliments from others and the type of perfume worn. I did an experiment this week where I specifically wore inexpensive fragrances on certain days and expensive niche perfume on other days. I consistently received compliments on the days I wore the inexpensive perfumes. Except for one day when I wore an expensive perfume and received compliments nonetheless (the most actually). I kept a log.

Here’s how the week played out:

Monday: Nerola Orange Blossom by Pacifica $19.95, available at Whole Foods Market, received 2 compliments

Tuesday: Serge Lutens Chergui, $expensive$, zero compliments

Wednesday: Provence Sante Tilleul, $27 for a big bottle/100ML, 3 compliments, and one woman in ladies room asked what it was and wrote the name down

Thursday: Gucci Envy, average cost, 1 compliment

Friday: Frederic Malle Carnal Flower, $expensive$, 4 compliments

Wednesday was the only day without compliments and this was the most expensive perfume of the week. I recently wrote a piece about my beloved Serge Lutens Chergui. Chergui was my personal favorite of the week.

The exception to this theory is Frederic Malle Carnal Flower. Everyone loves this stuff.

So, I’m thinking that there’s interplay between cost and sillage. The less expensive perfumes with strong sillage get noticed and complimented while the more expensive perfumes that wear closer to the skin either don’t get noticed or aren’t liked.

As I’ve said before, I’ll keep wearing what I like, I just wanted to share my silly little experiment of the week.

Dandy of the Day: Isabella Blow (1958-2007)

Isabella Blow was an English magazine editor and international style icon. The muse of hat designer Phillip Treacy, she is credited with discovering the models Stella Tennant and Sophie Dahl as well as the fashion designer Alexander McQueen (she bought his entire graduate thesis collection). Blow often said her fondest memory was trying on her mother's pink hat, a recollection that she explained led to her career in fashion. She worked with Anna Wintour and Andre Leon Talley at various points. As with Talley, half her work seemed to be expressing and asserting her personal aesthetic. In a 2002 interview with Tamsin Blanchard, Blow declared that she wore extravagant hats for a practical reason:

"...to keep everyone away from me. They say, Oh, can I kiss you? I say, No, thank you very much. That's why I've worn the hat. Goodbye. I don't want to be kissed by all and sundry. I want to be kissed by the people I love."

Toward the end of her life, Blow had become seriously depressed and was reportedly anguished over her inability to "find a home in a world she influenced". Other pressures included money problems (Blow was disinherited by her father in 1994). On May 6, 2007, during a weekend house party at Hilles, where the guests included Treacy and his life partner, Stefan Bartlett, Blow announced that she was going shopping. Instead, she was later discovered collapsed on a bathroom floor by her sister Lavinia and was taken to the hopsital, where Blow told the doctor she had drunk the weedkiller Paraquat. She died at the hospital the following day.

Images of Blow, in which her inimitable spirit is abundantly apparent, remain iconic illustrations of committed individualism. We at I Smell Therefore I Am believe that Blow might have worn any of the following:

Robert Piguet's Fracas - tuberose softened in butter.

Frederic Malle's Carnal Flower - the exact moment of
orgasm, bottled.

Ava Luxe Midnight Violet - a bed of violet glowing under the moon, the smell wafting upwards with each step taken through the woods.

Annick Goutal's Sables - a bonfire in the field, its smoke surrounding you, leaving with you on your clothes.

Thoughts?