Contradictory/Contrarian Thoughts

1. I've discovered that I really like fragrances I'm discouraged from even sniffing by reputable sources. Michael by Michael Kors smells like roasted gardenia and tuberose to me, spiced a little, and that's a good thing. It dries down in a wonderful way, lasting just about all day and then some. Boucheron Trouble doesn't smell too sweet or pedestrian to me. It smells rich and slightly woody. Kelly Caleche isn't a bore or even a letdown. It makes a pretty definite statement to me, with its vegetal iris and peppered disposition. Jean Paul Gaultier is supposed to be headache in a bottle, whereas for me, it has restorative properties.

2. What is a dandy fragrance? I used to think it was a rose a guy could get away with wearing. Now I realize that the fragrances which get called dandy-worthy are typically anything the guy in question likes but which is popularly regarded as feminine and therefore requires some justification or mental adjustment to wear. In this respect, every perfume I own which is meant for women (and I have a lot) is a dandy fragrance. I don't think wearing a so-called feminine requires justification. It's an act of social sabotage, which is justification enough. You make it your own, and if you stop worrying over it, and wear it with confidence, people stop judging it separately from you as being either appropriate or inappropriate. You own it. What could be more appropriate? The other day a homeboy came in to smell the Bond No. 9 fragrances while I was standing there. He had on Louis Vuitton sneakers, chunky gold jewelry, and was more put together than most of the women I know, and he was worried that the No. 9's he favored were considered feminine. He looked to the women behind the counter, who all liked different No. 9's, to tell him whether or not he should be caught dead in his favorites. Enough said?

3. I'm not sure what I think about the alleged masterpiece Beyond Paradise. There, I said it. Sometimes I think I love it. Is that a figgy sort of green in there, or just a gardenia and jasmine sucker punch? Wearing it today, I'm drunk on it. Smelling it a month ago I thought the naff lollipop bottle suited it perfectly.

4. I love Givenchy Insense. It seems harder and harder to find the older bottles. Online they're always "out of stock". I found some at a local discount store and purchased, even though I had a small bottle at home already. Before I ever smelled it I was told that Insense is a male floral. I disregarded the fact that it smelled anything but floral to me. Maybe if I focus I can smell the magnolia and the muguet, but I would never call this girly or even anything less than robustly masculine. More bewildering still, Michael Edwards classifies this as woody - floral musk. What am I missing? Top to bottom, I get that mentholated green note, part galbanum, part eucalyptus. It's almost as butch as Estee Lauder Alliage. I'm told this is the lentisk (aka mastic tree), a small evergreen shrub of the mediterranean region. And yes, the part waxy, part oily qualities of muguet and magnolia suit it well. But, really--musk?

5. What's going on at Sephora? Granted, their stock was always pathetic, but at one time, just under a year ago, they carried Cartier, Hermes, and any number of items I haven't seen on their shelves for months now. We're getting new stuff in, they told me, when I asked why they were rearranging their shelves and things started to go missing. They were just making room, they said. Now the masculines and feminines, once on opposite sides of the room, are on the same wall, and both have been laughably condensed. No more Jardins de This or That. No more Baiser du Dragon or So Pretty. But if you're in the market for Fresh Sake or Burberry Bland, this is the place to go. I used to dislike Sephora. Now I know I hate them.

6. When I first smelled Santa Maria Novella Nostalgia I thought, yes, it does smell a little like Bulgari Black. Then I got home with the bottle and actually conducted a side by side comparison. Nostalgia is nothing like Black. And it blows it out of the water, as far as I'm concerned. I've also since come to realize that Nostalgia lasts with impressive tenacity. In less than two weeks I went from liking and admiring this fragrance to loving it all out of reason. On sale: One slightly used bottle of Bulgari Black. Make an offer.

Santa Maria Novella Nostalgia

Back when I first heard about Santa Maria Novella, the age-old cathedral pharmacy in Florence, I was most intrigued by Fieno (hay), Peau d'Espagne (Spanish leather) and Nostalgia (ibid). I've since smelled the first two, but it wasn't until today, a year later, that I got my hands on the latter.

Says the Now Smell This Perfume House listing for SMN:

"The Officina Profumo Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella is one of the oldest pharmacies in the world. The store in Florence, Italy opened to the public in 1612, but the fragrances and body products are based on recipes that the Dominican friars of Florence had been developing (using herbs from the monastery gardens) since the 13th century. It was held by the Dominicans until the late 19th century when it became a private business. Today they market a wide range of fragrances, bath and body products, and home fragrances."

You don't have to go all the way to Italy to get Santa Maria Novella. Aedes in NYC carries the brand, and you can probably get it elsewhere, with a little scouting. Many of the scents are nice but fairly unremarkable. Santa Maria Novella's Iris approaches exceptional, with a sugared medicinal disposition which fluctuates intriguingly between off-putting and come hither. Potpourri is a clove-laden floral and incense affair, one of the best of its kind, certainly better than the Comme des Garçons Incense series, which I've always found slightly overrated, like incense air freshener. Fieno is a little sweet for my taste, whereas Peau d'Espagne was quite a surprise, a look at the underside of the Chanel Cuir de Russie saddle, grimy and sweaty, a grungy wallop of indelicate leather, too stiff to be anywhere near well-worn, whatever the age.

It's probably inevitable, with such a lengthy build-up, that my feelings about Nostalgia would be mixed. I remain affectionately undecided. It goes on with a wondrously rubbery flourish, touched with petrol, hot oil, dust, and sunshine, teetering conceptually between bright and dark, piquant and pungent. And this lasts about thirty minutes on my skin (in the heat), the rest, what there is, lingering subliminally. Nostalgia actually recalls Peau d'Espagne, though it has modified the resinous murk of its ancestor with what almost comes across as citrus. Where Espagne is herbal and opaque, Nostagia is radiant, if not quite sheer. Oddly, and probably unintentionally, it interprets its roadway theme by careening in and out of recognizable masculine territory. Though its wheels never exactly stop burning rubber, Nostalgia comes close at times to more traditional he-man fragrances du jour, albeit in a way which improves upon their general template.

Nostalgia has been compared to Bulgari Black, its most visible rubber contemporary, the poster boy for this kind of thing, and while I like Black as a rule (minus a few qualifications) I think I prefer Nostalgia overall. Black is too refined, too timid for my tastes. I appreciate it but never wear it. For something which is said to be so cutting edge, I find Black rather soft. Nostalgia, on the other hand, has an impressive amount of oomph, if not much more staying power than Black (one of said qualifications). Nostalgia is bolder, more reckless, a fun-lover's ride. Whether or not you're willing to pay 100 bucks for the seat is another issue.