Agent Provocateur Strip

Brian surprised me with AP Strip as a gift.  I had never heard of it and had no idea what the notes were or how it was described in the ad copy.  I love blind smells like this.

Strip launched in 2007 as a limited edition.  The limited edition part is what is so unfortunate.  Many consider the original Agent Provocateur to be their best fragrance but I think Strip is easily the best from this brand.  After I read the notes list I started to smell Strip quite differently.  See how marketing shapes our impressions…how that little notes list makes you smell things you never might have smelled before?  Anyway, the listed notes are Ylang Ylang, Iris Bud, Geranium Bourbon, with Amber, Vetiver, Exotic Woods and Musks.  It’s so interesting, how clearly I smell geranium…and ylang ylang at the start after knowing the notes list.  But now that I’ve been smelling Strip so closely, it’s become a real kaleidoscope of a scent for me.  Now I smell a boozy not-especially-sweet vanilla atop fresh loose tobacco.  What I originally thought was a nice and likeable powdery amber has become a fascinating floral amber tobacco.

For some inexplicable reason, I’ve been having difficulty with all my ambery orientals lately.  I have a ton of ambers and suddenly they all smell so awfuly musty I can’t wear them.  Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114 is musty.  Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier Ambre Precieux is musty.  Annick Goutal Ambre Fetiche is musty.  Dior Ambre Nuit is musty, musty, musty.  This is driving me crazy and I’m hoping it’s a phase which will pass quickly!  But, thankfully, Agent Provocateur Strip isn’t musty and I’ve been able to wear it, with pleasure.

Agent Provocateur Strip has a decent amount of sillage and its longevity is good, about 6 hours on me.  Since I never saw the ad copy from Agent Provocateur I’ve made up my own image of what this scent is all about.  Strip isn’t some sleazy, overly sweet stripper body spray.  In its first 20 minutes Strip unfolds with citrusy geranium, ylang ylang and boozy vanillic rum.  Once Strip dries down a fresh tobacco accord emerges atop a non-musty and dry woody amber base.  Strip has a wonderful quality of being a bit boozy and a touch sweet yet stays an overall dry fragrance.  Strip is really wonderful.  Sometimes, mostly when I’m smelling it from afar or the next day on my clothes, I smell the powdery amber-patchouli scent I smelled the very first day I opened it from the box.   But most of the time, when it’s freshly applied or when I’m sniffing it up close I smell a dry boozy tobacco-wood-amber scent that is just fantastic.  Agent Provocateur Strip is both cozy and interesting.  Brian done good.

Well Being: Barney's Route du The

I was surprised to learn that this little gem has been around since 1986.  I discovered it back in 1995 or so and, I guess, thought that my awareness had ushered it into being.  It's bizarre to think the stuff was around when I was in high school, out making the rounds in the world.  What's most surprising to me is the fact that Calyx, which is much better known--and which I had heard of in high school--came out after Route du The, rather than before.  The two are so similar--and Calyx is so ubiquitous--that I always imagined Route du The was something of an imitation.

What they share is an impossible, neon idea of what it is to feel fresh and clean.  It isn't a soapy impression, exactly--a la White Linen, another study in Beatific Cleanliness--but a sense of being so well scrubbed, emotionally and physically, that the world can only touch you when, where, and how hard you'd like it to.  Both feel incredibly succulent, though Calyx is a little more openly fruity.  It should also be said that Calyx would never be mistaken for a tea scent.  Calyx is much more complicated than Route in general--and smells it--so I'm going to abandon the comparisons here, but those of you who love Calyx and haven't smelled Route du The should definitely consider seeking it out next time you're at Barney's, where Route is exclusively sold.

The notes listed for Route du The on the Barney's website are citrus, muguet, and amber.  I'm not sure it feels quite that simple, but it does feel uncomplicated and easygoing.  It does speak to me of "tea" (the name means "way of the tea") but not the way other tea fragrances which have been released in the last ten years or so do.  I do smell Lily of the valley but the scent doesn't feel incredibly floral to me or even much like a white floral.  I don't smell amber in any way shape or form, but I might be bringing to Route a more literal interpretation of what amber must smell like (certainly heavier and more resinous than this).  One of the things I love about Route is how long-lasting it is.  Fact is, I like many tea fragrances but find they just don't stick around much.  Tea time is brief.  Route lasts shockingly well for what it is, and citrus remains a part of the overall effect long into the dry down on me.  Overall I get a lemony muguet aroma which comes as close to all day sunshine as a fragrance gets.

It's very affordable.  Barney's sells it for 55 bucks, I believe.  At 100 ml, this is clearly a steal.  It's been raining here incessantly and still intermittently cold. But Spring is peaking around the edges of things, already, and Route du The has again been in heavy rotation at Casa Brian. 

A Tea Project

Jean Claude Ellena did me a favor back in the late 1980’s when he created a scent that smelled of tea. Tea cannot be extracted into a fragrance like other notes, so Ellena had an idea that he could create a scent that smells like tea; the leaves, the water and a little bit of earthy smoke, and so he made it.

Ellena took his scent to Dior, who focus-grouped the smell to death and eventually turned it down. Then Ellena took his tea scent to Yves Saint Laurent, who also turned him down. Ellena ended up at Bvlgari, who thankfully had the good sense to understand this was groundbreaking. Bvlgari took Ellena’s tea scent, made it into a limited edition which sold only in their boutiques. Jean Claude Ellena’s first tea scent, Bvlgari Eau Parfumee au The Vert was a huge success and now just about every perfume house has a scent which centers on tea.

I tire of most light summery citrusy-green scents but the one note I can never have enough of is Tea. Maybe that’s because the tea note is extremely fleeting and I am forced to run after it like a stealthy butterfly never getting caught in my net. I mentioned this to Laurie Erickson, perfumer at Sonoma Scent Studio, and she confirmed for me that the tea note is an extremely fleeting one, an aroma that is just not going to linger for a long time. Nevertheless, unlike other fleeting notes, the tea note remains worth chasing for me.

I’ve been on a tea quest for quite some time so I thought I’d gather my findings together to assist others who might also be on the same journey. While I really love a good number of these fragrances, I’m still searching for the Perfect Tea Scent. This is part of the reason why I mentioned my quest to Erickson at SSS, I thought maybe someday she could create it. Sonoma Scent Studio fragrances all have excellent longevity on me, so if anyone can do it, I figure Erickson can. What I’m looking for is a strong black tea scent, with hints of fruits and florals. Imagine opening a fresh tin of passion fruit jasmine tea, or something along those lines. I love the smell of earthy black tea leaves, but I also love the mixture of fruits and florals with a touch of smoke.

..In the meantime, here are the tea scents I have:

L’Artisan Tea for Two: gourmand tea scent. Tea for Two is a fragrant cup of tea with milk and honey. It is to be worn by the fireplace in the winter months. For some reason, Tea for Two makes me a little nauseous; I think it’s the combination of lemon in this cup of milky sweet chai tea.

L’Artisan The Pour Un Ete: chilled jasmine tea with a wedge of lemon and sprig of mint. The Pour un Ete is among the few fragrances I genuinely love from L’Artisan. L'Artisan, for me, is a house which makes far too many fleeting fragrances, but I forgive them with The Pour Un Ete because we know the aroma of tea just doesn’t stick around no matter who creates it. I previously reviewed The Pour un Ete last year, and it remains a beautiful summertime tea staple for me. The tea note fades but what is left is an exquisite airy jasmine.

Dior Escale a Pondichery: black tea with cardamom and jasmine was a great idea but somehow this doesn’t live up to its description at all. I love Escale a Portofino and don’t even get annoyed with its fleeting nature because, well, it’s supposed to be light and short lived. I very much looked forward to Pondichery’s release last year but I find this one falls flat. It does smell of black tea with Indian spices and jasmine at the start but it quickly morphs into a vaguely citrus aroma with very little charm. If I wanted citrus I’d just wear its sister Escale a Portofino. If I want tea I’ll just wear something else.

Bvlgari tea trio: this consists of 3 fragrances, a green tea (au The Vert), a white tea (au The Blanc) and a red/roobios tea (au The Rouge). I prefer the red tea scent because I find it unique as far as tea scents go. Au The Rouge is a little fruitier and nuttier than the other two teas from Bvlgari. I do think it smells of roobios/red tea, which is a unique scent. I previously reviewed Bvlgari Au The Rouge because it’s my favorite of the tea trio.

Elizabeth W Sweet Tea: This is almost the scent I’ve been looking for except it doesn’t have enough fruits and florals. Elizabeth W Sweet Tea is a tall glass of summertime iced tea with a big spoonful of liquid sugar. You know you can’t mix granulated sugar into a glass of iced tea, right? Granulated sugar doesn’t mix and falls to the bottom of the glass. Mix in some (preferably flavored) liquid sugar and you have a delicious glass of summertime sweet tea. Elizabeth W brings sweet iced tea to us in a wearable fragrance.

Parfumerie Generale L’eau Rare Matale: “mate” is a type of tea common in South America which has a distinctly toasted quality. PG’s Rare Matale reminds me the most of CdG’s Sweet Nomad Tea (coming along shortly) but it’s more wearable for me. PG Rare Matale is a mildly sweet citrusy tea scent that is extremely natural and realistic and smells of this mate type of tea. This one works best for me layered on top of other scents which aren’t strong enough on the tea note. This is a tea jumper cable of sorts.

Aroma M Geisha O-Cha: this is a zesty powdered tea scent. I don’t mean powder as in baby powder, I'm referring to instant powdered tea in a packet as opposed to loose leaf tea. This smells like a packet of Lipton iced tea with a lemon. It’s still zesty and nice and if you spray it on your clothes it will stick around for the afternoon. Instant-tea-packet might not sound appealing but I actually find O-Cha quite nice.

Creative Universe Te: greenish oolang tea with hints of osmanthus and faint florals. CU Te is a relaxing tea scent, with a fresh citrusy quality that fades into a pleasant subdued floral. The tea note and celery note are interesting in the way the PG and CdG tea scents are but it’s immensely more wearable and typical instead of just plain weird.

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz The Vert: brisk, realistic green tea. Longevity is decent if you spray liberally. DSH The Vert is closest to CU Te but it’s much more focused on green tea with less florals and citrus. If you are looking for a straight green tea scent this is the most exact I have ever smelled. It’s earthy green tea with an overall herbal quality and a touch of smoke.

Comme des Garcons Sweet Nomad Tea: another “mate” type tea scent but this one is truly weird. It’s more about sweet mint sprigs and very tannic tea. Sweet Nomad Tea is appealing if you like strongly herbal scents but it does also have a brisk tea note, as promised by the name. This won’t make much sense but Sweet Nomad Tea is sweet in the most unsweetened way. It’s actually quite interesting and unique but not something I normally wear. CdG Sweet Nomad Tea is perfect about 1 time per year when I get in the mood for something herbal and non-perfumey. Actually Sweet Nomad Tea smells a lot like fresh pot (aka marijuana, hemp, weed, whatever you call it) once it dries down.

CB I Hate Perfume Russian Caravan Tea: This, like a lot of the CB scents (and prior to CB, Demeter scents) is almost an exact replica of a cup of tea. It is a strong black cup of tea, with a dash of bergamot and a hint of smoke. It is really nice and lingers longer than most, I just need to layer it with something else in order to make it read as a perfume on me. Layering this (and I hardly ever layer) with Nez a Nez Vanithe after Vanithe loses its tea quality is quite nice.

Nez a Nez Vanithe: Vanilla Tea. This reminds me of Loulou with an herbal tea note at the start. Overall it’s very sweet and the opposite of most of these other brisk, refreshing tea scents. Vanithe was introduced to me by a kind POLer otherwise I would probably never have tried it. This is the most perfumey, sweet and synthetic smelling of all my tea scents in this list but it is actually one of my top favorites. The initial verbena, rosemary and Earl Grey tea notes are wonderfully balanced with the sweet vanillic base notes. The top notes vanish after awhile and even though I’m left with only the memory of them I do enjoy the sweet slightly woody-honey-vanilla base.

Annick Goutal Le Chevrefeuille: someone, somewhere, called this an iced tea fragrance which suddenly struck me as the reason I love it so much. Le Chevrefeuille is honeysuckle iced tea and absolutely gorgeous. Honeysuckle, as an exact note, might otherwise be awfully sweet and cloying but this sparse, fresh, hesperidic and slightly brisk tea/honeysuckle scent is genius. Please pray with me that this hasn’t been or isn’t about to be reformulated.

Annick Goutal Duel: a beautiful yet thoroughly too fleeting tea/citrus/smoke scent. Duel is almost perfect if only it lasted longer than 20 minutes. It’s not just that the tea note vanishes; the problem is that the whole scent vanishes for me. But it is an awesome 20 minutes.

Lorenzo Villoresi Yerbamate: grassy meadow of mild mate (tea). LV Yerbamate is less about tea and more about the softest green meadow and newly mown hay. It’s a bucolic country scene. I really should wear this more.

Do you know of some good tea scents that I don’t have listed? Please tell me! I’m always hunting for tea...

Refreshing tonics: a cure for what ails you

It’s been over 95 degrees the past week and even though it’s a dry heat I have been in the mood for refreshing fragrances. I’ve been wearing a lot of Heeley Oranges & Lemons Say the Bells of St. Clements and Creed Selection Verte. Most of the notes in refreshing scents are fleeting, so I try to find fragrances that are crisp and light but still have as much heft and longevity as possible. For the most part, when I’m looking for refreshing scents, I want something citrusy, green or herbal. Some florals are nice but only if they’re airy, not dense, and blended with some combination of green/citrus/herbs.

Here are some of my favorites ~

Atelier Orange Sanguinne: this has become my favorite citrus. It’s zesty and sweet and never sours. The first few minutes are the most realistic and uplifting bunch of blood oranges I have ever smelled.

Parfums de Nicolaï Cologne Sologne: Mostly zesty neroli and citrus, this is an intensely uplifting scent that seems more concentrated and long lasting than most in this category. A liquid antidepressant.

Creed Private Collection Selection Verte: care for a pinch of herbs and some peppermint? Selection Verte is the most straight-up crisp, brisk, olfactory herb garden. Longevity is minimal but it’s excellent when used like an old fashioned cologne.

Elizabeth W Sweet Tea: Just as the name says. Sweet Tea. Like in Texas.

Parfums D’Orsay Tilleul: Linden blooms. One of the best. With a touch of vegetal/cucumber that’s utterly thirst quenching.

Atelier Trefle Pur: This line has caught my attention. Trefle Pur is a softly green scent that starts off innocently enough with images of clovers and sunny meadows but dries down to a deeper mossier green similar to ô de Lancome. Longevity is decent for this sort of thing lasting 2-3 hours on me. But if you try it, be sure to spray and spray yourself wet.

Miller Harris Geranium Bourbon: This is based on the idea of rose scented geraniums. So while it’s a bit rosey it isn’t meant to be a floral rose fragrance. I think many try this and find it to be a disagreeable rose floral but once you realize it’s a green, herbal scent it makes sense. Many years ago before I began my orchid collection I had a scented geranium obsession. This fragrance really works for me because it smells so perfectly of the fuzzy leaves and flowers from a scented geranium plant.

A Scent by Issey Miyake: This is a gorgeous green chypre-esque fragrance. Nice longevity.

Jo Malone White Jasmine Mint: This one doesn’t get much credit but it’s a nice light jasmine with a fantastic heap of mint to keep things brisk and unusual. It’s an unsweet floral but it still dries down to a floral if you feel yourself looking for some jasmine.

L’Artisan The Pour un Ete: This almost goes without mention, it’s the best jasmine & tea scent.

Sisley Eau de Campagne: Tomato Leaf citrus. Gardeners delight.

Annick Goutal Les Nuits d’Hadrien: I’m such a huge fan of Annick Goutal perfumes but they’re bestselling fragrance, Eau d’Hadrien, just leaves me flat. AG has another version of Eau d’Hadrien called Les Nuits d’Hadrien which is essentially a citrus oriental. Now this, I love. Many say it starts off smelling like Lemon Pledge. Well, this might be true, especially if you find lemon notes to always smell like cleaning agents. But if you find yourself attracted to a nice lemon note, imagine it draped over a woody oriental base. It’s subtle and fresh yet manages the complexity of a woody oriental. Very nice.

Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique and L’Artisan Mimosa Pour Moi: Now neither of these are particularly refreshing by the definition I gave above (citrus, green or herbal) but even though they are florals they are so delicate, airy and soft it’s like a mimosa scented breeze caressing your skin. Dreamy.

Diptyque Oyedo: sugared grapefruit. Technically sugared yuzu on steroids. Insanely appealing.

Hermes Pamplemousse Rose: A pretty rose/grapefruit combination with an especially juicy grapefruit note, rind, pith and all.

Lorenzo Villoresi Yerbamate: strangely humid sensation of soft green herbs and grasses with hay and nondescript wildflowers in the meadow. Some mint, some citrus, dries down much sweeter than it starts.

All of the above aren’t going to last you through an entire day. I carry a small decant and re-spritz when needed.

I could list about 20 more fragrances in this category but I’ll stop here otherwise those people will come with straight jackets.

Scents That Sing Spring: Bee - Side

When I went to my cabinet to search for ideal Spring scents, I started getting everything that was right up front out of the way, so that I could find the treasures buried in back. At some point, I realized that the ones I was moving are the fragrances I'm wearing right now, and therefore I needn't look any further. It made me start thinking about what a Best-of list is; how personal a proposition it is. While something by a niche line might unanimously be regarded as exemplary in its category, I might just be getting more mileage out of something rather pedestrian from the mall. There's ideal, in other words; then there's what I'm wearing.

The following are things the cooler weather and psychology of Spring have teased to the fore of my collection lately. Along with those are things I wouldn't normally put on my list, typically because they don't happen to be ground-breaking, particularly hip, or quintessential in some way. I call this the B-Side list because I think we all have these kinds of favorites in our collections and wear them regularly, right alongside the A-side. In some cases they give us just as much or more pleasure. Some of them seem downright underrated to me and I sometimes wish I heard more about them.

Laura Mercier - Neroli

Aside from a few limited editions, I haven't given much print to the Mercier line. Funny, because I own three of the fragrances, and gifted someone with a fourth. I ignored Neroli for a long time because I assumed it must be fleeting. Why get attached? Recently, I was bored waiting for something at the counter, and I sprayed some on my wrist. I smelled it all day and thought about it all week. I repeated this a few weeks later to make sure I hadn't just imagined the stuff lasted well. Eventually I bought a bottle, and Neroli really is a little sleeper. It isn't straight up Neroli. The note is bolstered with musks and florals, but these additions make the neroli stand out, and neroli is what you're conscious of.

Hanae Mori - Haute Couture

This is but a song online, and worth every penny. It's a green jasmine. Fresh stems, laundry in the breeze, just the right touch of coriander and just the right amount of 'strange' in the mix. Haute Couture is a pretty happy scent, but it isn't empty-headed. There's some gravity to it, and just a little drama.

Gucci - Flora

I think this is the first time I'm admitting to owning this. I've had it for well over six months, and grab it far more often than I ever imagined I would when I got it in a trade as an afterthought. I've smelled various osmanthus fragrances. None give me the satisfaction of Flora. I like it more and more each time. And I find it lasts. I don't care for the EDP version. It's heavier, and focuses more on the undertones, drowning out what's well judged in the toilette. Flora was almost unanimously dismissed at the time of its release. The general consensus seems to be that it's routine, nothing special. Having spent some time with it, I feel like I discovered something it takes patience and open-mindedness to see, and I recognize how the swift reviewing process of the blogs can sometimes do more harm than good.

Armani - Sensi

Which brings me to Sensi. Like Flora, this one takes time. Spend an afternoon with it. You'll see. It's a simple melody but a great tune. I forgive a lack of innovation when it makes up for itself in duration and diffusion. Sensi is stronger than you expect. Like several of the bloggers participating in this exercise, I tend to like heavier scents: orientals, chypres, the old school stock. For a long time I took that to mean I wouldn't be interested in Spring-like scents, but the ones I gravitate towards have presence, like those orientals I love. Sensi smells like a breath of fresh air, its creamy jasmine landscape painted in oils rather than watercolors, and is something of a chameleon; it works as well during the winter months as the Spring. No wonder. Fragrantica classifies it as an Oriental Woody.

Creed - Irisia

Let Irisia represent all the green chypres I start to wear regularly around this time of year. Givenchy III, Jean Louis Scherrer, YSL Y, et al. What to do when you read that Irisia (one star) is marked by "exceptional banality and unpleasantness" in the same grouping of reviews which gives Britney Spears Believe three stars? Surely that's a joke. Don't believe it for a second. I don't know that I prefer Irisia to other classic green chypres, but I wouldn't say it's anywhere close to inferior. The name is misleading, as any hint of iris is hard to pick out. I'm guessing I reach for Irisia the most because it smells more masculine than its brethren.

Perfumer's Workshop - Tea Rose

This is either your...cup of tea, or it isn't. I've enjoyed it for years, in minor doses. The bottle I have dates back to the eighties, and smells quite different from the bottle I smelled recently at TJ Max. The current version smells like a vinyl blow-up toy. The dry down eventually moves closer to what I remember, but it lacks some special factor which makes it feel much further removed. The Tea Rose I recall is one of the best rose fragrances of its kind ever, as far as I'm concerned.

Delrae - Debut

There are a few dead horses I tire of hearing people beat. One is that the first four Delrae fragrances are just too...this or that. If Debut, Eau Illuminee, Bois de Paradis, and Amoureuse aren't the very best niche perfumery has to offer, my nose isn't smelling right. Let's stop complaining about how heady they are, or can I expect silence about how thin the overwhelming majority of modern fragrances besides these have become? You can't have it both ways. The first four Delraes represent a big fat Yes to perfume lovers. This perfume lover wouldn't dream of saying no.

Lorenzo Villoresi - Yerbamate

I'm not suggesting the line doesn't have its share of admirers. Yerbamate, like several other Villoresi fragrances, is something of a cult item. Still, you don't see the scents getting much attention when the time for this kind of list arrives. I think they deserve a special boost here and there, to help counteract some of the beating they've taken recently. Yerbamate is one of my favorite Villoresis, though I'm pretty partial to Garofano and Teint de Neige. Its weird, smoky green character isn't something I've come across in any other fragrance, and it's one of the most persistent tea scents I've smelled. Truly one of those rare fragrances you have to smell for yourself.

Etro - Magot

Not exactly one of the line's best sellers, and in fact I might never have purchased a bottle had I not run into one for ten bucks at TJ Max. I liked it from the start, but it's taken me a long time to place it properly. Don't ask me why, but I kept thinking Magot was a floral. Instead, it's tangy, a bit woody, and creamy. There are florals in there--jasmine and iris--but they aren't the centerpiece. Magot is a cheery fragrance but not without gravity. It smells like you feel when you first walk out your door to face the day.

Nina Ricci - Love in Paris

Another one that grew on me, or that I grew into. Jasmine, apricot, rose, peony and star anise on a base of woods and musks. It seemed too easy, so I dismissed it for a long time. Now I've learned enough to know how difficult easy is.

Please see Abigail's list, below, for links to participating bloggers of Scents That Sing Spring.

Annick Goutal Eau de Fier

You’ve heard the expression, Sexy Ugly, right? I use it plenty to describe a person who is not conventionally beautiful or handsome but there’s just something...some sort of charisma, twinkle in the eye, strut or sex appeal that you can’t deny? I categorize Benicio del Toro, Denis Leary, David Duchovny, Milla Jovovich and Uma Thurman as Sexy Ugly. When you pull apart the features of these individuals, they might not be attractive, but as a whole, a sum of their parts, it all works, and you find them quite attractive.

Annick Goutal Eau de Fier is Sexy Ugly. Eau de Fier (EdF) is a blend of some of the ugliest stuff in perfumery; the tarriest birch tar, rubber, smoky, smoky, smoky tea and some citrus and a touch of fruit (if you’re looking for it). Eau de Fier is not conventionally pretty, nor is it perhaps acceptable for the office, if you work in a corporate suited-up environment, but I’m so attracted to it that I just can’t keep my hands off the bottle.

Eau de Fier goes on sheer, but it lasts for days. I find it an odd juxtaposition of sheer and potent; you might not realize it’s still there, but it most certainly is. I sprayed it on a male friend of mine, on his arm, and a bit got onto his sweater when he rolled his sleeve back down. I smelled it on him until he washed the sweater. Eau de Fier just doesn’t quit. It is a tenacious sexy beast.

If Bulgari Black is not your thing because it smells slightly rubber-y then you should stay away from Eau de Fier. EdF is hardcore. It is shocking that EdF comes from the house of Annick Goutal, who, for the most part, create charming, natural and conventionally pretty fragrances. I don’t know how EdF got out the door, because this, THIS is the most avant-garde fragrance I’ve ever smelled (yeah, yeah, Tubereuse Criminelle starts off shocking but it settles down, becomes tame and pretty after 30 minutes). EdF is something you’d expect from Comme des Garcons, I'm thinking of their Tar.

As far as I know EdF is discontinued making it impossible to find, and this makes me want to cry. Surely EdF wasn’t selling like hotcakes, but I wish AG would continue making a small supply for perfume aficionados, oh, maybe, 250 bottles per year or something. It should never cease to exist. EdF needs to exist, it needs to represent it’s end of the perfume spectrum, the end where horrific beauty that can be imagined. Eau de Fier smells like fresh lapsang souchong tea leaves. Very smoky tea leaves, over scorched leather and rubber. It begins with a burst of citrus, which never entirely vanishes, but gets pushed aside by the more aggressive smoky tea, tar and leather. About a half hour in an apricot-like fruity note emerges (guessing osmanthus) and this stays until the far dry down. I think it’s magnificent.

The Non Blonde recently reviewed Eau de Fier and Bois de Jasmin also reviewed EdF a few years back. Proof that I’m not alone in my lunacy :-)

Notes: bitter orange, osmanthus, salt flower, clove, tea, and birch tar

PS: I could not find a photo of the bottle anywhere, so the above pic is a collection of their masculine bottles, which is the same as their Eau de Fier bottle.

L'Occitane Bergamot Tea: Good Stuff

“Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” - Jean Luc Picard

Bergamot tea reminds me of Jean Luc Picard. Picard is, without a doubt, my favorite Star Fleet captain. Add this to the fact that I’m on a tea fragrance bender and you can imagine what I did the evening the L’Occitane sample of Bergamot Tea arrived. Yep, I ordered it.

L’Occitane Bergamot Tea is delightfully refreshing. If you’re looking for a dry, hesperedic, slightly woody and spicy tea scent, this is good stuff.

Longevity is decent if you apply like a cologne and don’t mind re-applying once or twice throughout the day. The bottle cap is chintzy; mine got stuck on the second use. A pair of tweezers remedied the situation.

I also purchased the little perfume solid. I don’t recommend it, it’s less potent than the EDT.

Bergamot Tea is quite nice. I’m pleased.

3.4 oz bottle of EDT is $46 from L’Occitane

Top Notes: Bergamot from Calabria, Mandarin, Cardamom, and Grapefruit
Heart Notes: Black tea extract, Wild rose
Base Notes: Blond wood, Black wood and Musks

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz The' Verte

The weather is warm and I’m having a tea phase. My glass is always full of iced tea and I’m wearing tea scents. I love the tea notes in L’Artisan The Pour Un Ete, Parfums d’Empire Osmanthus Interdite and all three of the Bulgari tea trio.

We carry Dawn Spencer Hurwitz The’ Verte at The Posh Peasant so I wore it several times this week. DSH The’ Verte is a very true green tea fragrance. The’ Verte is chilled green tea on a light chypre base. It’s calming, soothing, cooling and reminds me of a weekend at Ten Thousand Waves spa in Santa Fe.

I don’t drink green tea. I think it tastes like dirt. But as a fragrance, green tea is especially interesting. The’ Verte has a lovely dry green leafy quality and a soft hay-like aroma. There is also a subtle minty sensation and herbal bergamot (think Early Grey tea) note draped over the light mossy base.

DSH The’ Verte is minimalist. It’s zen. It’s yoga class, meditation, a room of one’s own, in a bottle. Don your Eileen Fisher linen ensemble, put your hair up in a pony, pull out your artisan handcrafted earrings from etsy and spritz yourself with The’ Verte. It’s a good day. It’s your day. Enjoy.

Notes –
Top: bergamot, lemon
Middle: green tea
Base: moss, sandalwood

Sit down, have a spot of tea. Bulgari tea, that is.

In warm weather I drink a lot of iced tea and I enjoy perfumes with tea notes. I especially love Bulgari’s trio of teas, which includes Au The Verte, Au The Blanc and Au The Rouge.

All three, let’s call them Verte, Blanc and Rouge for short, start off beautifully, develop nicely and then largely disappear within 3 hours (Verte and Blanc are the most fleeting, Rouge sticks around the longest). If you apply lavishly as I do you might find the scents lingering on your clothes and hair for much longer.

A very brief description of each: Verte is the most hesperedic/citrus and green, Blanc is the sweetest and most floral, and Rouge is the most strongly tea-like, tangy, sweet, figgy and spicy.

Many reviews I’ve read suggest that Rouge doesn’t even smell like tea, or rooibos (red tea), as it’s meant to evoke. For me, it starts off exactly like Celestial Seasonings Red Zinger tea, which my Mom drank when I was a kid. My Mom is a tea aficionado so I’ve definitely tasted and smelled my share of weirdly exotic loose leaf teas. I suppose some might say Bulgari Rouge smells like rotting leaves or vegetation, which is probably true, if you don’t really know what tea smells like. I prefer Rouge, out of the three, because it’s the most zesty and strange.

Rouge begins like dead-on rooibos tea, with all it’s tart tangy tannic qualities and a mound of dry hay baking in the late summer sun. I’m amazed at how exactly they’ve captured tea in the top notes of Rouge – if I have the bottle nearby I love re-applying it to get the strong tea-like rush over and over again. Once you move into the heart notes, Rouge exhibits a creamy fig note with dashes of sandalwood and pepper. The creaminess makes sense to me, because the traditional way to serve rooibos tea in South Africa, where it’s most popular, is with milk and sugar. Once Rouge dries down, it becomes reminiscent of sweet, woody hay with spicy figs and the memory of tea.

Rouge is rounder, richer and stranger than the other two Bulgari tea scents. If you’re looking for something different, with a striking tea note, that can be worn in the summer heat, give this a shot.

I wish Bulgari would package these three tea scents as a set, maybe 15 ml bottles of each. This might be the one perfume gift that my Mom would actually like.

Bulgari Au The Rouge was created by Olivier Polge in 2005.
The notes are listed as: bergamot, orange, pink pepper, fig pulp, Roiboos red tea, Yunnan red tea, walnut and musk

Parfum d’Empire Osmanthus Interdite: A Review

Parfum d’Empire has won my heart. I’ve purchased a few of their fragrances and loved every single one. My latest obsession, and I really mean obsession because I’ve worn it for four days straight (seriously, do you know how rare this is?!) is Osmanthus Interdite.

Parfum d’Empire create fragrances inspired by various historical empires. Osmanthus Interdite uses the Chinese empire as it’s inspiration. Osmanthus is a small mildly sweet flower native to Asia and smells akin to a citrusy, fruity floral iced tea with apricots.

Before Osmanthus Interdite became firmly entrenched in my summer fragrance wardrobe I already had Ormonde Jayne’s Osmanthus and Keiko Mecheri Osmanthus. I do not have, nor have I smelled, Hermes Osmanthus Yunnan. Once I wore Osmanthus Interdite (OI), Ormande Jayne’s Osmanthus (OJ) was knocked out of rotation. I'll continue to wear Keiko Mecheri’s Osmanthus because it’s a different style, mostly an osmanthus soliflore with a stronger floral presence while OI is complex and multi-layered.

In a side by side comparison, Ormonde Jayne’s Osmanthus has a heavy dose of pepper (pimento is listed as a top note) which just doesn’t work for me now that I’ve smelled the brilliantly creamy and smooth OI. Osmanthus Interdite starts with a citrusy, fruity opening that quickly steps aside allowing the unfurling of a tobacco leaf, tea leaves and leather. I was immediately blown away by the beauty of this fragrance. It’s such a delightful, sunny, carefree, sheer scent yet there are dark shadows and intrigue. These are just shadows, mind you, because the overall fragrance is absolutely joyous and uplifting. The tea notes and the mildly sweet quality of osmanthus keep the fragrance crisp and decidedly refreshing for summertime enjoyment.

Sillage is light but present and longevity is very good.
Notes are listed as: green tea, citrus, osmanthus, rose, jasmine, musk and leather

Rating: 5 stars (swooning)
Longevity: very good about 5 hours
Sillage: soft but present

L’Artisan Thé Pour Un Été

It really takes some seriously hot weather to snap me into summer scent mode. The past week we’ve had a massive heat wave and I finally succumbed to wearing a few of my favorite summer scents.

Bear these facts in mind, I generally dislike jasmine and I frequently disparage L’Artisan for their complete lack of longevity and sillage. Aside from a few, namely Timbuktu, Iris Pallida and Premier Figuer Extreme, I’m awfully annoyed by the fleeting nature of most L’Artisans. My all-time favorite L’Artisan, Mimosa Pour Moi, is also fleeting but I adore the scent so much I just put up with it by bathing in it.

Thé Pour Un Été is one of the most perfect summer perfumes, period. It is fresh, airy and sublime. Here’s the overall gist of Thé Pour Un Été; imagine a glass of chilled jasmine tea, with lemon and a sprig of mint. I don’t even like jasmine but the jasmine in Thé Pour Un Été is so perfectly orchestrated that I simply adore it. The jasmine is tempered by the green/herbal notes, keeping it crisp rather than indolic and the tea note gives it just a little more character than a plain floral fragrance. For me, the ratio is like this: 50% crisp jasmine, 25% tea, 25% lemon/green.

Olivia Giacobetti created Thé Pour Un Été in 1995. I’ve begun to notice that I’m a big fan of Giacobetti, particularly for warm weather fragrances. Giacobetti also created some of my other summer favorites, such as Diptyque Philosykos, Hermes Hiris, Frederic Malle En Passant, L’Artisan Premier Figuer and Parfum D’Orsay Tilleul. Giacobetti’s style seems to involve delicacy, naturalism and a little surprise factor. In Hiris, Giacobetti added a carrot note; in En Passat, she used a doughy-bread note; in Premier Figeur, she included green leaves and coconut milk; and in Philosykos she put the entire fig grove, bark, leaves, fruit and all, in the bottle. In other words, Giacobetti ensures that her fragrances are gorgeously natural, never an artificial or synthetic smelling note, but always a little shock factor, to keep things interesting.

L’Artisan Thé Pour Un Été is divine. While the idea of chilled jasmine tea with lemon might seem overly simplistic, the aroma itself is too jarringly beautiful to disregard. Thé Pour Un Été is an olfactory antidote for a hot summer day, it lifts my spirit and keeps me sniffing my wrists all day. As mentioned above, L’Artisan drives me crazy with their lack of tenacity, but Thé Pour Un Été’s longevity is better than most of their fragrances, it still isn’t great, but it sticks around for about 3-4 hours on me. Like Mimosa Pour Moi, I like this scent so much, I just re-apply.

Rating: 5 stars
Sillage: a little
Longevity: below average but not terrible, about 3-4 hours on me

Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier: Eau de Camelia Chinois

Many online reviewers have it stuck in their craw: a major offense committed by a perfume with the word camelia in its name is the fact that camellia flowers have no smell. Getting indignant about this makes about as much sense as faulting Bulgari black because color has no scent either, or Bal a Versailles, or Coco, so I won't waste much time dwelling on such a non-issue, except to remind people that perfume is more typically associative and abstract than literal and representative. I should also point out that the name of this fragrance more likely refers to the leaves and leaf buds of the camellia, which are used to produce teas such as oolong, white tea, black tea, green tea, and pu-erh tea, all of which are plenty fragrant. I'm going to venture a guess that Chinois means Chinese, too, as opposed to the kitchen utensil of the same name, lest any residual confusion around the name of this fragrance get our tightie-whities in a wad.

Reviewers also fault Eau de Camelia Chinois for smelling similar to Barney's Route de Te. It does--but again, this is like faulting the color gray for being derivative of the color black. Very few perfumes smell like nothing else known to man, let alone like no other perfume known to perfumistas. Personally I derive a lot of pleasure from discerning the differences between very similar fragrances. It helps elucidate what makes them special. Opium and Cinnabar are closely aligned, but the differences between them help you appreciate each more, and spending some time with those observations can teach you a lot about how different elements and accords can influence the same basic elements. I always like Route de Te, and it's true I might not want to own both, but Camelia has its own tonal distinctions and is worth considering separately.

The tea note is unmistakable, as is a bright ringing citrus note up top. Upon first spraying Camelia, the nostrils burn a bit, as if someone had zested a lemon or an orange rind on your skin. That settles down quickly, and the heart of the fragrance emerges. Camelia is bright throughout but has a nice, sturdy foundation, underscoring the tea and grass notes with a smokier, more herbal edge. Where Route de Te remains cheerfully bright and loud for the duration, Camelia creates a chromatic tension between light and dark, heavy and light, and, though an eau de toilette, has the lasting power of many eau de parfums.

It makes for a fantastic Spring and Summer scent and would even bring some levity and icy warmth to the winter season as well. Like Tommy Girl, it speaks with pinpoint clarity, feels crisp and clean with a hint of the dirty underbelly lurking beneath any patch of leafy green. The florals and tea are blended much more smoothly, I think, than the notes in Route de Te, resulting in a nice, mellow feel. You can smell the apple, as in Tommy Girl, but also the grapefruit, the pineapple and the banana. Less readily apparent are basil and fir, though their presence makes intuitive sense. Camelia ultimately feels more sophisticated than Route de Te to me, and proposes a nice, languid alternative to Tommy Girl's non-stop 50 kilowatt, five mile radiance.

The bottle is a big block of a thing and would look very cheap or very elegant sitting out on your dresser, depending on your taste in things and who you happen to be.

6 First Impressions

"The first time I passed through Switzerland," wrote journalist Ernesto Sabato, "I had the impression it was swept down with a broom from one end to the other every morning by housewives who dumped all the dirt in Italy."

Psychologists say we have three seconds to make a first impression. Even when we've only just met someone, and spend maybe all of several minutes with them, we leave with an indelible sense about their personality and character, an overall assessment which elides substance in favor of tone. We carry that away with us for better or worse, and we return with it, making subsequent decisions based on those early conclusions. Often the first decision we make is whether or not to have anything to do with someone again.

Is it fair to rush to judgment, or should we worry about it? First impressions can be misleading. Take the gruff woman you meet through a friend. You assume she's closed off, a snob, tight lipped because she has nothing to say. What's her problem, anyway? Turns out, you later discover, she might not say much but she doesn't mince words, either, and her silence usually means she values privacy. When you need her to keep a secret, she does.

And what about perfume? So much of my education has involved adjustment to and reassessment of things I at first either felt ambivalent about or reacted with extreme distaste toward. I loved Chanel Cuir de Russie instantly. I knew I'd just inhaled something truly great, a work of art; a masterpiece, even. Ditto Dzing! And Lancome Cuir. I smelled Une Rose and felt I'd finally found the perfect rose. On the other hand, there's Donna Karan Signature. I liked it from the start, but my feelings have changed, deepening over time, and what I first smelled is a much simpler picture than what I see now. Ivoire seemed only minimally interesting to me when I first found it. Now I find it something of a changeling, more complicated than I gave it credit for. Others, like Patou 1000 and Pure Poison, seemed inifinitely feminine to me at one point, a line drawn in the sand along the gender divide. Now I wear them very comfortably, and that line, washed away, keeps shifting, appearing somewhere else.

Maybe truth and fiction co-exist in first impressions, representing a code you crack over time. I expect my feelings about the following fragrances to evolve, and I'm fully aware that some of these gut reactions say more about me than the perfumes themselves, but I thought it might be interesting to explore my first impressions, looking for some kind of truth in them, as so much of what I write about perfume is carefully thought out, evaluated and re-evaluated.

1. Cuir de Lancome

Turpentine and violets are having a conversation, and birch tar keeps butting its head in. The violet is soft and a little moody. It can't quite say what's on its mind. This is the very best of the Lancome reissues, given a run for its money only by Sikkim. It smells of the leather handbag your mother was given at Christmas when you were a kid, off-putting and hypnotic at the same time. You want it to stay like that forever, with that fresh off the shelves clarity. It smells of Cuir de Russie and Heeley's Cuir Pleine Fleur, without the barnyard, like Caron Tabac Blond and Knize Ten without all the fuzzy distortion. This is fine store bought leather, lightly stained, with an oily finish on it that your fingers slide right along. It stays clear and bright on the skin without the sense that anything darker lurks in the wings. I used to hide in my grandmother's closet trying to get to the bottom of all the things that made her who she seemed to be. All her accessories and clothing. Why did she keep some things and discard others? Why did she favor one denim skirt over a pair of burgundy kulots? How did she wish to see herself, and how did that match up to how she felt? Did everyone else see the same person I did? Adults were endless mysteries to me; none more so than her. The thing I remember most about her closet was all the leather: belts and handbags and shoes. Even her Polaroid camera had leather detailing. I used to wonder how much of her would be left if you took all that away. The smell of the leather was tough and sweet, noxious but comforting. Like her skin, which was lined with age and tanned, it seemed like some kind of armor against something.

2. Guerlain Vol de Nuit

A big blast of galbanum right up top, along with the signature Guerlain depth of focus. It smells very much like a high end masculine. You can see a line straight from this to Guerlain Homme, and it has, thanks to the galbanum and what comes off like pungent narcissus, a camphoraceous intensity about it, rather than the mojito glued to Guerlain Homme's fist. Just a faint whiff of booze on its breath. No girly drinks for this one, though someone did put vanilla bean in the whiskey glass.

3. Lancome Magie Noire (pre-reformulation)

How can this feel so wrong--but wear so right? It's nothing like the reformulation, which is straight up powdery woods. This has a strange, nearly off floral formality missing from the update. That influence doesn't make it old lady as much as off its rocker. If this is old lady, she has a towel over her head like a turban, fastened with a brooch you mistake for costume jewelry at your own risk. Befriend her and you might have inherited it. She's hard of hearing and listens creatively, so she might take your condescension for friendship either way. Magie Noire has a weird, fruity influence which mingles not altogether comfortably with what appears to be narcissus, like the honey people sometimes infuse with chamomile. Strangely, it smells more modern than its latest iteration, putting it closer in mood to the latest Visa than the late great gone forevers.

4. Parfumerie Generale Un Crime Exotique

This is almost photorealism gourmand, smelling of tea steam and gingerbread. But there's something there you instinctively know not to swallow. It isn't just foody, but the room and the mood of afternoon tea time. Intoxicating, evocative stuff, endowed with an emotional undertow devoid of any apparent rational sense. I don't know the Cotswold cottage it conjures. But I can see it like a memory of sitting there. The walls are yellow from the morning sun. Someone is at the sink with his back to me, getting the tray ready. I'm hoping for biscuits. There are mismatched ladder-back chairs and woven place mats on the table. The shadows are gentle. Outside the yard seems respectful of the house's scale, with a modest garden and well manicured patches of cascading shrubs. It seems picture perfect and just as I start to wonder where I put my digital camera, the neighbor passes the open window in his overalls, waving jovially, and the stranger in the kitchen, bringing the tea over, sees the neighbor just in time to tell me all about his predilection for local underage boys and dress-up in his wife's clothes. In some ways, this is a throwback to Magie Noire, a comparison I might not have made without spraying them on two sides of the same arm.

5. Etro Palais Jamais

It's as though someone put a scrap of paper in an ashtray alongside a not-entirely snuffed out cigarette, and the only thing on hand to douse the fire before it got out of hand was a bottle of Guerlain Vetiver. The juice turned grey green in the glass, smelling and looking like fragrant, dissolving coal. This smells fantastic but I'm already preparing myself to defend it by anticipating exactly how its detractors will dismiss it. So many people are so anti-smoke. Back in high school, we lived across from a city park. It was close enough to sneak over for cigarettes. Something about the smoke mixing into the evergreen and concrete of that environment calmed me down, putting my angst into perspective. It made cigarettes seem perfectly natural too, practically harmless. Surely those big tree could take it. On Fall days you could smell the dirt and the grass and car exhaust from the kids driving their parents' cars around the relatively safe back roads of the park. It wasn't unusual for someone in one of the adjoining neighborhoods to be burning leaves. Even when they weren't, the memory of bonfire from Homecoming past or approaching played heavily on the mind.

6. Jean Patou Sira des Indies

I've heard bananas foster but to my nose it's pear. After which: some very expensive apertif, some sweet but bitter cordial served in a squat but fluted glass you might snap in two if you grabbed with more than your thumb and forefinger. If this is in fact bananas foster, someone soaked it in Joy, rendering it heady but inedible (and indelible). With Patou you get a curious transparency, similar to Chanel, but in place of Chanel's chilled glass lucidity, Patou provides warmth, a clearheaded sense of burnished texture. Picture a woman with natural blond hair. She's sitting under indirect sunlight, and you see every facet of the color. It isn't "just" blond, like a cheap at-home kit, all uniformly hued, but infinitely varied, with depth and volume you can't imitate without accomplished artistry. Blond turns out to be an amalgam of things, some darker, some lighter, yet the end effect is the sense you could look straight through the back of the head to the freckles on the front of her face.

CB I Hate Perfume: Investigation & Reviews

At first I entirely dismissed CB I Hate Perfume without even smelling the perfumes or knowing anything about the reason behind the name. I’d read about others loving the smell of Black March, which was described as smelling like dirt, mud, chilly cold puddles in early Spring. I thought to myself, “Why would I want to smell like that?” I figured CB I Hate Perfume was a flash in the pan. I thought CB was a bizarre little niche line that would last a few years and then disappear.

Just for kicks I requested a few CB samples when I placed an order with Luckyscent about eight months ago. I received Black March, Russian Caravan Tea, Patchouli Empire and In the Library. Ok, so Black March wasn’t to my liking, as I’d imagined it wouldn’t be. But it sure is an amazingly dead-on smell of early spring in New England, where I grew up. Patchouli Empire, In the Library and Russian Caravan Tea knocked my socks off. I thought, this “CB” guy, he’s an artist, I need to find out what this line is all about.

I went to the CB I Hate Perfume website. There I read that the perfumer’s name is Christopher Brosius and that the meaning behind the name “I Hate Perfume” is actually quite the contrary to how it sounds, he is quite passionate about perfume.

Here’s an excerpt, in what I believe to be CB’s mission statement taken from his website:

“I hate perfume.
Perfume is too often an ethereal corset trapping everyone in the same unnatural shape.
A lazy and inelegant concession to fashionable ego.
Too often a substitute for true allure and style.
An opaque shell concealing everything – revealing nothing.
A childish masque hiding the timid and unimaginative.
An arrogant slap in the face from across the room.
People who smell like everyone else disgust me
* * * * * * *
Perfume is a veil that reveals the soul.
Perfume is the fanfare of our individuality sounding differently to everyone who listens.
Perfume is a signpost to our true selves – a different journey for the brave to travel.
Perfume is the weather of our inner world bringing life to a personal landscape.
Perfume is an art that shows us who we can be if we dare – an invisible portrait of who we are.
Perfume is discovered fully only by our lovers when we are together – naked
* * * * * * *
I encourage you to be yourself, expand yourself and please yourself.
Allow yourself the luxury of your own vision.
Perfume is an adventure I encourage you to explore.
I love making perfume.
I love being a perfumer.”

I love this mission statement or manifesto or whatever Christopher Brosius calls it. It also makes me think Christopher Brosius has balls – he calls out most of the perfume industry for churning out crap and giving perfume a bad reputation or at least a reputation of being a trivial unnecessary accessory. However, I also think that it’s easy to sit back and be a critic; it’s relatively effortless to point out others failings. In order for CB’s statement to pack a punch, he needs to create beautiful artistic original perfumes that are also wearable.

So, I decided that the proof is in the pudding, or in the perfume in this instance. I went about ordering samples and tried at least 2/3 of his line. My overall impression, in the end, is that CB most definitely lives up to his mission statement. CB makes beautiful, artistic perfumes that are incredibly evocative. Evocative is the word I mean to highlight the most. So many of CB’s fragrances evoke a specific “thing,” such as Burning Leaves (no surprise, it smells like burning leaves), In the Library (no surprise, it smells like an old library, books, paper, a bit musty); these fragrances smell as exactly as they are named. But the reason why I believe Burning Leaves is a work of art, is that when I smell Burning Leaves, I very quickly forget that I’m smelling burning leaves and I’m transported to a beautiful crisp autumn day. The neighbors are out raking the leaves from their yards, and one neighbor a few houses down is piling up his leaves and burning them. I smell the smoke in the distance, I also think about apple picking and mulled cider with cinnamon sticks. I feel the cozy sweatshirt that I’ve had for more than a decade against my skin, I always wear these “bum around the house” sweatshirts for weekend yard work. I think of my dogs, frolicking around the yard, diving into the piles of leaves making a mess and making us crazy. Burning Leaves doesn’t smell like all these things ~ but it transports me to this scene. As an aside, if anyone reading this loves Serge Lutens Fumerie Turque, I highly recommend you try Burning Leaves.

Another fragrance from CB is called Lavender Tea. Again, no surprise, it smells of lavender and tea. The notes are: French lavender, Black Indian tea, woods and a touch of Indonesian patchouli. CB does it again; he takes me on a sensory journey with Lavender Tea. I see lavender fields in Provence; I recall my last trip to France where I stayed at a bed & breakfast overlooking fields and vineyards sipping tea while the late summer sun slowly set. I also think of my Mom when I smell lavender tea. When we lived in the same state we had a ritual of meeting for afternoon tea at least once per month at the Four Season’s hotel. My Mom loves lavender and keeps little lavender sachets in all her drawers and in the closet. She uses Yardley lavender soap exclusively. Wearing CB’s Lavender Tea conjures up our monthly tea visits, when we first met and hugged I’d smell a very faint lavender on her and then we’d sit and drink tea and chat. CB’s Lavender Tea makes me very happy.

Another fragrance from CB is called Fire From Heaven. Fire From Heaven’s notes are incense, frankincense, myrrh, opopanax, cedar, sandalwood, styrax & labdanum. The scent is much more subtle that you might expect. Fire From Heaven is smoky, soft and incredibly soothing. This fragrance, unlike the others I’ve described is abstract, there obviously isn’t an actual “thing” called Fire From Heaven. I love this scent, it reminds me of my Dad and his house in Santa Fe. The smoky quality reminds me of the smell of the fireplace, which is called a kiva in adobe homes. My Dad burns mostly mesquite logs and cedar in his kiva. Fire From Heaven reminds me of my Dad, visiting him over the holiday’s, sitting in front of the kiva, the smell of juniper bushes and the cool dry desert air outside. CB describes Fire From Heaven as the memory of smoke….

CB offers his perfumes in two forms; 1. perfume absolute (which is an oil), 2. water perfume (which is a spray edt to me).

I’ve tried both the perfume absolutes (oil) and the water perfumes (edt). I usually prefer a spray edt/edp over oil but with CB’s line I'd recommend the perfume absolute/oil. The oils are more concentrated and last longer. The water perfumes tend to be too fleeting. All of the perfumes I’ve described above are the perfume absolute/oil concentrations.

If you’re intrigued by CB I Hate Perfume I encourage you to visit his website. There is much more interesting information there than I could possibly provide in a blog entry. Plus, you can also purchase all of CB’s products from his site:
CB I Hate Perfume website

Photo of Christopher Brosius above courtesy of CB I Hate Perfume website.

The Joke's on You: Moschino Funny!

There was a time when the humor and irreverence of Moschino (not just its line of perfumes but its fashion and its founder) were not entirely lost on its intended audience. There was a time when Moschino in fact had more of an audience on which to lose something. Who could forget the chocolate drizzled handbag—or the Teddy Bear dress? Plenty of people, it would seem. The Olive Oyl bottle of Moschino’s Cheap and Chic perfume was a statement at the time. Now, people tend to dismiss it as unintentionally tacky. Moschino injected the humorless, self-absorbed fashion scene of the eighties with wit and intelligence. While it’s true you wouldn’t actually often have occasion to wear a stuffed animal-infested dress out in public, couture has never been about reality or practical application. Moschino laid bare the central dichotomy of fashion industry practice; of course it was absurd that a collection never intended to be worn should conduct itself as soberly as a tax audit. It was as if Jerry Lewis, as the Nutty Professor, had started a line of couture dresses and sportswear, issued from a headquarters stationed in his lab. Unfortunately, the Italian fashion establishment felt Moschino was laughing at them, not with them, and denounced the designer as a talentless hack. This only made him more popular, his point more legitimate.

Moschino's aesthetic was exuberantly youthful and decidedly adult simultaneously. He was raised in a small town on the outskirts of Milan, perhaps shaping him from the beginning as an outsider with a close proximity to the heart of things but enough distance to view them objectively. His background was in illustration and (for Versace) publicity, so it was perhaps entirely logical that his approach would merge the surrealist audacity of Dali with the slapstick, crowd-pleasing sight-gags of Tex Avery. Moschino founded his line in 1983. Five years later, his Cheap and Chic range was introduced. In 1994, he launced what he called an Ecouture line, featuring clothes made from environmentally friendly fabrics and dyes. It might just be that the laughing stopped when Moschino died the same year, at the age of 44, the victim of that quintessential buzz-kill, a heart attack. His line has persevered, albeit with less fanfare and less imaginative marketing. His perfume line releases new product frequently. The fragrances are more interesting than they’re given credit for. Cheap and Chic itself is a brisk fruity floral, truly cheap and chic, making it, of course, exceptional and a play on words, a happy contradiction. Eponymously titled Moschino (1988) is a floral oriental which smells like Grasse by way of a headshop, another, more refined play on words. Cheap and Chic has had several flankers, as has Moschino.

The bottle for Funny! mimics the one used for Moschino Couture, extending a joke across two releases separated by three years and seemingly contradictory high/low designations. Moschino Couture is a warm, fruity floral with haughty gold cap, high-class scotch-colored juice, and velvet red ribbon sash. Funny! is literally its polar opposite, cool, fresh, and exhilarating, with silver cap, ice blue juice, and frayed satin ribbon, the cheerful country cousin to its big city counterpart. Funny! was created by Antoine Maisondieu, whose work with Etat Libre D’Orange (Jasmin et Cigarette, Encens & Bubblegum, et al), demonstrate his own refined sense of humorous elegance. He was the nose behind Burberry Brit London, Gucci eau de Parfum II, and Comme des Garcon’s Luxe Patchouli, all interesting, all arguably wonderful. Funny! combines Seville orange, red currant, and green tea, possessing an aptly curious spiciness (something of a punchline, a la pink pepper) and a resinous base which contrasts ingeniously with its effervescent attributes. It shares with Gucci II a rare quality in feminine construction, where buoyancy doesn’t mean vapidity. It is bold and declarative rather than timid and insipid. It has humor and a positive outlook on things. It’s cheerful without being air-headed, dense without being a dumb blonde. Most impressively for a citrus-focused scent, it persists, giggling in the face of summer heat. Funny it hasn't gotten the attention it deserves.