Epic Gardenia

I don’t consider myself a white floral lover but maybe I’m wrong. I think I’m not because I dislike (usually) anything resembling gardenia and jasmine and I mostly hate ylang ylang. Or so I think. My reason for disliking gardenia and jasmine (soliflores in particular) is because both notes remind me of people from my past that I don’t like. I’ll never wear Serge Lutens A La Nuit. Ever. A La Nuit is a beautiful airy jasmine but I could never handle it on my skin for more than 11 minutes. Of the gardenia fragrances I’ve tried, and believe me, it’s not a long list, I think Jo Malone Vintage Gardenia is pretty good. Tom Ford Velvet Gardenia is grossly true to the actual flower and makes me shudder. Annick Goutal’s Gardenia Passion doesn’t smell like gardenia to me nor do I like it and I generally love everything from Goutal.

Strange Invisible Perfumes takes it’s name from Shakespeare, a line from Antony and Cleopatra: "From the barge a strange invisible perfume hits the sense of the adjacent wharfs." Strange Invisible Perfumes (SIP) hooked me on two of their tuberose fragrances, namely Narcotic and Heroine. At the moment, SIP is only making Narcotic and Heroine in pure parfum, not edp, which is frustrating because I get the most from SIP scents when I can hose myself down like I’m on fire and need extinguishing. Because I’ve grown to love the trademark strangeness of SIP scents, I had a hunch I’d like Epic Gardenia even though it’s dedicated to gardenia, my floral nemesis.

As expected, Epic Gardenia begins with some strangeness, but it’s not the usual musty medicinal stench, I think it’s an easier start than most fragrances from SIP. Others have called Epic Gardenia “humid” and I can see this, there’s a similarity between Epic Gardenia, Amaranthine and Manoumalia in their damp tropical quality.

Epic Gardenia reminds me of wilted rotting water from a 5 day old vase of flowers that hasn’t been refreshed. When you’re channeling your inner Martha Stewart you change the water in a floral arrangement every day or two. When you forget, the flowers don’t last as long and you find a vase full of stinky water. You might think I’m being disparaging or describing why Epic Gardenia is awful. I’m not. I love Epic Gardenia. It’s the only gardenia fragrance I can wear and I have been wearing it for months. Epic Gardenia does smell like gardenia blooms but these imaginary blossoms are much less sweet, cloying and heady than what I deem to be the typical gardenia note in perfumery. Epic Gardenia’s gardenia note is tempered with an undercurrent of green earthy musk and there’s an obvious bergamot thread throughout. To enjoy Epic Gardenia I think one needs to practice suspension of disbelief. Actually, to enjoy most SIP fragrances you need a healthy suspension of disbelief; you can’t force the scent to conform to your typical ideals of what a perfume should smell like. If you are able to maintain an open mind, I find the majority of SIP scents will come around and surprise you. The rotting vegetation subsides after about 20 minutes (either this or I just stop noticing it) and Epic Gardenia blooms into the most lush, velvety gardenia note I have ever not disliked. It is sweet, but it’s not cloying or heady or “too much” of anything on me. I can’t even complain about its longevity. The sillage is quiet, of course, being an all natural/botanical perfume, but as long as I spray myself wet, and take care to spray a little on my clothing, I find it lasts at least 5 hours.

Before you ask, I have never tried SIP’s now long gone scent called Lady Day. As I mentioned, it’s a fluke that I even tried Epic Gardenia, given my disinterest in gardenia, so I missed the boat on Lady Day, which might be for the best.

Epic Gardenia is my #1 favorite gardenia scent and my favorite among the somewhat new “humid, tropical” category. I’ve been wearing it so often this year that I neglect to notice its strangeness, maybe it isn’t even odd, and maybe it’s just completely beautiful.

Coincidentally, Epic Gardenia is available at Beautyhabit.com for 25% off with the code Oprah until August 13th. Otherwise it’s $175 for 50 ml. I’m tinkering with the idea of buying another bottle. I’m going through mine at an alarmingly fast rate. Which shouldn't be alarming, it's a good thing, because in theory, I want to drench myself in my perfumes and enjoy every whiff.

PS: explanation for the above pic... Epic Gardenia reminds me of Fantasy Island. When I was a kid I loved staying up late on Saturday Night to watch Fantasy Island (and Love Boat) when sleeping over my friend's house. I suppose Alexandra Balahoutis is too young to recall this, so she couldn't have been invoking Fantasy Island when she created this one.

Highwayman (Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab)

Few fragrances are discussed on the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab forum with as much bewilderment as Highwayman. Though not without fans, it seems to leave detractors feeling as if they've been assaulted by some unseen hand. Two days into spending time with it, I started comparing it to Angel, not because it smells similar, but because Angel elicits equally strong, equally contradictory reactions, and because, like Angel, Highwayman is a proposition of opposites which can be as off-putting as it is mind-bending.

Many of the Black Phoenix fragrances require creative association on the part of the wearer; the oils are interpretations of a theme or a subject, and sometimes they're left of center to your expectations. Dracul's pine and mint notes--brisk, almost cheery--are anything but vampiric for some. Jasmine and patchouli might not readily come to mind when you think of the cryptic caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. Names like Sin and Perversion are bound to divide opinion. These things are discussed at length on the forum by fan and foe alike.

The first image I got, hearing the name Highwayman, was a pavement-bound drifter, dressed in scuffed leather, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes, vapors rising off the asphalt around him, desert on either side of the road; an unshaven stranger, fairly unwashed, his face and hands scuffed with the grease, grass, and dirt of innumerable days out in the open. That image sprang to life like a dry sponge hitting water the moment I smelled the fragrance.

Highwayman is the best leather fragrance I've ever smelled, and I've smelled quite a few. There's just no comparison. My biggest disappointment, even with my favorite leathers, is their eagerness to tame the foul harmony of the real thing. Chanel Cuir de Russie and Lancome Cuir make friendly with florals. Even more openly jarring leathers, like Heeley's Cuir Pleine Fleur, are ultimately a lot more softened than I'd like. Knize Ten, too, is incomparable--I wouldn't be without it--yet as it ventures deeper into tanned territory it sprinkles sweetener about generously. Creed's Royal English Leather and Parfum D'Empire's Cuir Ottoman are smooth and buttery, and ultimately more about amber than anything else. I want something that smells of the undomesticated animal it came from.

Highwayman has gardenia, rose, and jasmine in it but you'd never guess. Then again, gardenia and indolic jasmine are the last thing you'd expect to be paired with leather, about as far removed from the polite iris of Cuir de Russie as a baseball is from a basketball court. There's a floral aspect to Highwayman but you'd be hard pressed to say exactly what. It enhances the overall effect perfectly, the way the unlikely addition of chocolate to patchouli radicalized antagonistic opposites in Angel. The rubbery, camphorous vibe of gardenia works ideally here, and your mind continues to struggle its way around such an improbable counterpart.

Highwayman's biggest emphasis is on the smoked tarry ambience of creosote. The asphalt drives of my childhood were fertile with this smell during the summer, when the sun baked their dark surfaces, giving them a tactile rubbery spring and an aroma which seemed both aggressively unnatural and perfectly appropriate to the surrounding environment, smelling as much of wood as smoke. This quality, without taking Highwayman away from leather, places it alongside Santa Maria Novella's wonderful Nostalgia, which is a much more civilized version of Highwayman, a volatile marriage of creosote and kerosene. The scorched pavement Nostalgia burns rubber on is far too small a patch of land. It doesn't last. Highwayman is a wide open road, and it goes on forever.

Another useful comparison is Garage, from the Comme des Garçons Synthetics series. Again, Garage is a much more transparent and affable fragrance than Highwayman, but it plays around in the same space, among fuel spills and oil leaks and the rubber of well-worn tires. Garage pulls up to the dangling tennis ball, but, unlike Highwayman, it leaves the electric door open, allowing the air to circulate. Highwayman is more of a shut-in. It even lights a cigarette. Like Garage, Highwayman's effects have a lot to do with vetiver. Garage, again, cleans that up, making it a much prettier, more presentable contributor. Highwayman uses vetiver the way several good BPAL fragrances do, exploiting its rich, almost chocolatey depth, full of happy contradictions. The dry down of Highwayman is predominately vetiver, and not dissimilar to Lalique's Encre Noire.

I smell so many things that the idea of a holy grail seems a little bizarre in theory, like finding a needle in a haystack. I've smelled a lot of Black Phoenix scents too, and love more than I like. Some, like Djinn and Now Winter Lights Enlarge, are uncommonly good. The past year introduced me to Tabac Aurea by Sonoma Scent Studio and Teo Cabanel's Alahine. I knew when I smelled them what people mean when they designate a holy grail fragrance. It isn't that I wear these all the time, or even often. But they bond with my sensibility in a powerful, emotional way, as if they sprung out of my imagination, or take root there in a wonderfully parasitic way. Highwayman is at the top of that list.

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.