The Synaesthesia of Scent

In The Diary of a Nose, perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena writes, "Green is the only color that makes sense as a smell," adding that, in his collection of raw materials, he has different kinds of green including gentle, harsh, smooth, sharp, dense, etc. Among these he has greens "that smell of beans, fig leaves, syringa, ivy, seaweed, elder, boxwood, hyacinth, lawns, and peas."

He might be right, in one sense, given that of all the colors green is used maybe most frequently as a descriptive. Green chypre, for instance - or green floral. When I think of any number of fragrances I picture the color green. I can't talk about, or wear, Jean-Louis Scherrer or Givenchy III without seeing the fields of parched summer grass I remember from my childhood vacations in rural Arkansas. Alliage brings to mind bitter snapped stems. Clinique Wrappings is a shock of fir peeking out from under banks of aldehyde snow; Tauer's Cologne du Maghreb, a dish of fresh herbs. Ellena says every perfumer runs the hazard of conjuring mental images of toothpaste when using mint in a composition, but I smell it in many fragrances and think of herb gardens.

It might be more accurate to say that green is the color that gets the most mileage in the scent vocabulary. Red, for instance, is a little trickier, but some rose-centered fragrances do read to me as red. Une Rose has always brought to mind a deep red velvet when I smell it; Agent Provocateur, a drier shade on the spectrum, like something long sitting out in a potpourri dish. Miss Dior Cherie - don't let's get started on exactly which version - reminds me of fresh strawberries; not just their smell but their damp, staining skins. Lipstick Rose evokes the obvious - but even Arden's Red Door recalls the crimson lipstick my grandmother applied with a brush from its tube.

I often think pink, especially with the contemporary spate of fruity florals. Baby Doll is strictly bright fuchsia tutus and tart berry innards. Yellow crops up every so often too - buttery yellow for certain floral compositions, palest yellow for scents whose vibe feels incredibly buttery to me, whether from orris root or otherwise. Daffodils pop up in my head. More often than anything I imagine golden yellow to orange hues, probably because orientals are one of my favorite types of fragrance. Alahine is golden light at dusk, casting everything in a late afternoon glow. Mitsouko is a brassier shade, something like peaches steeped in liquid sun. I even think of white, when I smell White Linen - something scorched of all color, singeing the senses.

Sometimes I wonder if some of us have a rare offshoot of synaesthesia when it comes to scent. The synaesthete cross-pollinates the senses in ways most people don't. She might see a number and hear it as a sound, for instance. She might see a color and experience it as a smell. What about the other way round, I wonder. What about seeing a scent as a color, as a sort of tinted wash that spreads over our senses? Has anyone seen MARNIE, the Hitchcock film, where Tippie Hedren's kleptomaniac goes into fugues, seeing red when an object or a situation triggers certain emotions? During these episodes the whole screen goes blood red. I wonder if scent is like that for some of us.

It's not quite as cinematic with me, but most of the smells I love do filter the images they conjure through some emotionally corresponding colored lens. When I smell Vent Vert, I do see green - my mind goes right to an analogous image - a field, a spring lawn, fresh shoots proliferating on deciduous branches. It's like that in some way with every scent I smell. So I'm not sure I agree with Ellena, whose own Kelly Caleche tints my imagination a specific sort of pale but vibrant metallic pastel.

Autumn 2010: Five favorites I've been wearing again and again

I’m not entirely sure what motivates me to write these seasonal favorites posts. Maybe its part diary. I know I’ll be interested five years from now in what I wore way back in 2010 (so perhaps this is a little selfish). Maybe it’s partly that I think I might choose scents that you haven’t tried and might be worthy of your sniffing time. But as I said, I’m not sure why I write these posts, but I do feel compelled. Oddly.

Here are the five perfumes I’ve been wearing the most often and completely enjoying each and every time:

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz Parfum de Luxe: This is a subtle yet true chypre. The fragrance it most reminds me of is Chanel 31 Rue Cambon. Parfum de Luxe is complex and multi-facted, following the beautiful curves along the chypre corridor. It begins with the usual bergamot, citrus opening, evolving through layers of dry florals and rests upon a gorgeous bed of oakmoss, labdanum and sandalwood. The ingredients smell high quality and while it isn’t a “natural” (as in 100% all natural no synthetics) it smells very natural and pure.

Parfum de Luxe notes: bergamot, clary sage, neroli, petit grain and violet. Heart: Bulgarian rose, Centifolia rose, Chinese geranium, honey, iris, tuberose and ylang-ylang. Base: amber, benzoin, oakmoss, labdanum, patchouli, sandalwood, tobacco and vanilla.

Solange Cosmic: This is another I’d classify as a modern chypre, without even smirking or mocking at the “modern chypre” category (which I oftentimes do). Let me immediately get this out of the way; I was initially turned off by the Solange line entirely. It all seemed (past tense) so overpriced and focused on style over substance. The perfumer is Lyn Harris of Miller Harris and she was contracted by Solange Azagury-Partridge who is a London-based jewelry designer famous for her striking sculptural jewelry. There are two fragrances from Solange; Stoned and Cosmic, and each has a seemingly ridiculous addition to their formula, Stoned contains diamond particles and Cosmic contains ground meteorites. Well, Solange is a jewelry house, and everyone should be allowed her own shtick, so I cut them some slack and just gave in to the experience of these fragrances. Stoned is not my style, it is way too powdery, but Cosmic caught my attention, and now that I think about it, it is another in the list of “wasn’t love at first sniff but I grew to love it” category.

Cosmic probably also appeases my inner sci-fi geek. Check out Nathan’s photos for fantastic images of the bottle design.

So what does Cosmic smell like? It’s does not contain that oakmoss blast of classic chypres from days of yore, but it definitely has a mossy personality and an interesting layered development that follows the typical progression of a chypre fragrance. Cosmic starts off weirdly tangy; almost a sour top note over a mossy and powdery base. I’ll be honest; the start might be a little off putting. It’s tangy yet sweet and it’s also mossy and has strong hints of sweet suede-y leather. But if you aren’t gagging right at the gate and you like modern chypres this one is worth trying a few times and definitely waiting for the dry down. It’s a little powdery, but I've found it to be an unusually addictive scent, for those who aren’t put off by the description “sweet, tangy, mossy yet powdery modern chypre.”

Oh, and you also need to know it’s expensive. Cosmic is $285 for a bottle, but for me, I find the kitschy bottle design endearing and I grew to crave the scent.

Cosmic notes: Bergamot, Galbanum, Rose, Jasmine Absolute, Iris Absolute, Patchouli, Vetiver, Labdanum, Opoponax, Myrrh, Vanilla

Teo Cabanel Alahine: I know. You are rolling your eyes. You are a teensy bit tired of my Alahine obsession. But it’s my holy grail, and to tell you that I haven’t been wearing it tons and tons over the past two months would be a lie. Alahine is genius in autumn and winter. This stuff is quite simply, incomparable. Through conversations with Brian, I think I’m coming to understand the role ylang ylang plays in Alahine which might be precisely the reason I am crazy about it. Alahine’s notes read like a floral oriental but it veers more toward ambery oriental for me, with much more focus on dry non-sweet amber, labdanum, iris and benzoin than the roses and jasmine that are mentioned. But there is this molten lava-like vein of ylang ylang throughout, that reminds me a touch of Opium, which I find mesmerizing (thanks Brian for helping me make this connection!). I love Opium but can’t wear it. It feels dated on me and perhaps it’s just Too Much, too many poppin’ aldehydes. I’m coming to think of Alahine as my modern Opium.

Alahine notes: bergamot, ylang ylang, Bulgarian rose, Moroccan orange tree, jasmine, pepper plant, iris concrete, cistus, patchouli, benzoin, vanilla, musk

The Different Company de Bachmakov: I have a love/hate relationship with TDC. There are several fragrances I think are fantastic, while there are also several fragrances I think are generic, too fleeting and generally overrated. I love Sublime Balkis and Oriental Lounge. But I adore de Bachmakov. Now, my adoration has lots to do with my enjoyment of the smell of tea and dry spices. If you are the same, and have a fixation on tea and dry spices, de Bachmakov is a beauty. I’m getting a little lazy, so I’ll point you to a review by Robin at NST, which I totally agree with and couldn't have written better myself.

de Bachmakov notes: bergamot, shiso leaves, coriander leaves, freesia, jasmine, nutmeg, cedar and craie douce

Thierry Mugler Garden of Stars Angel Violet: Ok, now you are really rolling your eyes. You’ve lost respect for me. Here’s the skinny, when people say that original Angel is so sweet and so ultimately gourmand it kind of doesn’t register with me. Original Angel, on me, is an unusual oriental, but what I smell are spices and pine needles and clean sweet patchouli. I really don’t get the candy and fruits that others find in original Angel. But Angel Violet, now THIS is a gourmand version of Angel. It is quite simply a candied violet accord infused into original Angel, it’s fairly funky, because if I close my eyes and envisions colors, it’s both purple and green and a little brown. It’s sweet and woody with no florals in sight. Angel Violet is also less potent than original Angel; it’s strong for a few hours but does not last all day and doesn’t project nearly as much. If you like the occasional candied violet scent and also like original Angel, this is delightful.

So, what's been rocking your world this season?

1000 ... Mille

I’ve been keeping a secret. I never wanted to confess my love for Jean Patou 1000 to the public. It’s been in my top 10 list for the past 7-8 years. Anjelica Huston, as much as I admire her, has pissed me off. She has expressed her love for 1000 (also known as Mille to the French) and now the whole world seems to know about it. I started, stopped, hesitated and in the end never written about JP 1000 because I wanted it to be Mine. I’ve been selfish. Teo Cabanel Alahine is my public Holy Grail. Jean Patou 1000 is my secret Holy Grail. And now my secret is out.

As far as I’m concerned, the house of Jean Patou is the best there is. If so many masterpieces from Jean Patou hadn’t been discontinued I would proclaim JP the king of perfume houses – easily better than Guerlain, Chanel, Caron and the like. Jean Patou Joy needs no introduction, it’s a household name, up there with Chanel No. 5. I happen to prefer Joy to Chanel No. 5 by a mile. But with all the discontinuations (no more Vacances, no Chaldee, L’Heure Attendeu, Adieu Sagasse, Colony, Que Sais-Je) it becomes difficult to appreciate Jean Patou for what it was, what it could have been, should be. It’s terribly sad.

But the silver lining is that 1000 still exists and it’s still excellent. Sure, I have the vintage and it is slightly better but I don’t think the current 1000 is ruined by any means.

I find 1000 to be so beautiful it’s distracting. When I wear it I lose myself in thought when I sniff my wrists. It’s utterly, sublimely gorgeous and stunning. The House of Patou describes 1000 as “the essence of extravagance,” letting the consumer know the considerable cost of the ingredients that are used to create this luxurious fragrance. I find 1000 to be that perfect sort of luxury, the sort that that doesn’t shout or wear it’s pricey label on it’s sleeve, it’s simply effortless beauty and elegance. Similar to Alahine, my other HG, 1000 is potent yet subtle, stunning yet discreet.

I don’t think categorizations particularly matter with 1000; if you favor classically styled fragrances then it’s something you must try. 1000 is somewhere between a rich floral and a floral chypre. There are so many florals and notes at play yet it all comes together as if they were meant to exist this way, perfect harmony. I suppose the most prominent floral note for me is rose. And the base seems like woody suede. The smoothest suede ever. Nothing else smells specific to me, I wouldn’t know there was osmanthus, violet, patchouli or angelica in 1000. 1000 is simply itself, it exists as an entity, a being, a whole which is so much more than the sum of it’s parts, I don’t find it necessary or worthwhile to tease apart it’s notes.

Purplebird7 from basenotes describes 1000 so perfectly I had to quote her:

"This perfume will draw you in. Most florals expand outward, diffusing sweetness. Hence, they risk becoming piercingly sweet and cloying. Mille seems to concentrate the scent of a thousand flowers in one, small space. That one place where it is applied acts like a gravitational force, a black hole, a dark star of fragrance."

Jean Patou 1000 launched in 1972. It doesn’t smell like the 70’s to me. It definitely smells classic, but it’s easier for me to wear than many other classics I own, it seems to transcend time.

TWRT 2.7.10

This Week's Random Thoughts ~

I’m still tempted to use 2009 as the date. Why is ’10 so hard for me?

I’m truly pleased that many readers enjoyed my week-long tribute to Annick Goutal. This house deserves all the accolades it receives. One commenter, Dain, made me laugh when she called this week of reviews: Justice.

Does anyone know where to find Guerlain Habit Rouge L'Extrait (parfum/extrait)? I’ve been looking – I know for sure it exists but cannot find it.

Lovely little gem of the week: Hermes Caleche Fleurs de Mediterranee. This is a soapy, aldehydic nummy fest. Not particularly similar to the original Caleche.

American Idol: Thank goodness the crappy part is over. Next week we’re onto Hollywood. Is this when Ellen D. shows up? Hope so. I read a rumor that Howard Stern is being considered to replace Simon next year. Wow, the combo of Ellen and Howard would be odd. I can’t imagine Howard leaving NYC to be in LA for such a stretch of time, though. He’d miss Beth and Scores.

The above pic are the limited edition Grossmith bottles. I’ll include a pic of the normal bottles below to be fair. But the LE bottles make me lose all financial sensibility and want to order them pronto.Beverage of the week: I’m still hooked on Diet Dr. P - but I ventured out with some Boylen’s Birch Beer and it was unusually good.

Luckyscent sent me a sample of By Kilian Rose Oud (they just sent it – first time this has happened to me). Rose Oud is probably going to be a huge hit for rosey oud lovers if they aren’t disturbed by the silly price tag. I’m not an Oud-girl so it’s hard for me to judge but this doesn’t conjure band-aids at least. I think it might even be nice – less syrupy than the Montale’s.

It has snowed and snowed and snowed and snowed here in Santa Fe. I knew it snowed a bunch here, it’s a big skiing town and the elevation is higher than Mt. Washington in NH...but still. My dogs are pugs and the snow is up to their shoulders making it distressing for them to do their business outside.

I’m excited about Donna Karan Iris.

Finally got a bottle of Ormonde Jayne Tiare and Orris Noir. I haven’t worn either long enough for an accurate assessment but Tiare reminds me of a tropical Diorama. Diorama is on my mind since I discovered it recently and fell in lurve but I think there’s something similar here. The newer packaging from OJ is quite nice. Lovely to display these bottles. (I need to stop using the word “lovely.” Seems so teeth-clenched to me).

Um, does Amouage Epic Woman remind anyone else of Serge Lutens Chypre Rouge?

I now officially pump my own gas. I know you think I’m mad for not having done this prior to moving to NM; but lemme explain... in MA full service was always an option (which I took) and in NJ there was *only* full service. So, after spilling gasoline all over myself about 2 wks ago (yeah, I used to like the smell of gas, once you wear it, believe me it’s not a nice smell) I now know the ins and outs of pumping gas. I feel accomplished and self sufficient. (!)

I can’t put words to exactly why but seeing the bikini spread of the Octo-Mom in one of those gossip rags was disturbing. And, good for her if she hasn’t had any work done but she certainly looks like she’s had some stuff done. I mean seriously, how could those massive stretch marks vanish in one year? And how can her stomach be completely flat after giving birth to 8 babies one year ago (on top of many other kids before that)? She does remind me of Angelina Jolie – I think it’s the lips and the kid obsession.

Jean Francois Latty, in house perfume for Teo Cabanel, has created a new fragrance for the house. It launches in a month or so. They are keeping the fragrance a secret but I’m giddy with optimism since Alahine is my HG.

Have a great Sunday everyone!

Brian's Best

Often this year, I found myself wishing that the fragrance industry would focus on quality over quantity. That might not have bothered me so much, had smaller companies not been thinking too big for their britches as well. Increasingly, it feels like niche lines are falling prey to the All New, All The Time syndrome--pepper spraying the market indiscriminately with fragrances which seem like sixty others before them. I'm sure your oud is perfectly lovely, as lovely as your iris. Can you tell me what distinguishes them, using something other than fanciful ad copy?

There's a desperation there, an urgency which might produce more frisson, if only more time were taken. Logic would seem to dictate that more at stake might result in more admirable efforts. What's the rush? I felt like I was being treated to dinner but presented with the check, sped through the meal lest I notice the change of plans.

Still, there were pleasures to be had in 2009. Some were even nice surprises. While Michael Kors Very Hollywood and Marc Jacobs Lola continued the trend toward inoffensive mediocrity at the mall, there were items of interest as well. La Prairie has never, to my knowledge, been on the cutting edge of fragrance, and to many a blogger the company's latest trio of scents, Life Threads, was little more than retread. I wouldn't disagree, but it all comes down to what's being revisited. Life Threads Gold was similar to many a recognizable floriental; particularly, the original Dolce and Gabbana for women, which is a fraction of the cost. Silver is a tuberose dressing up in big sister Fracas' shoes. Meanwhile, Life Threads Platinum is essentially Gres Cabochard. Cabochard can be had for next to nothing, you say, but it's a shadow of its former self--drained of everything but the general idea, whereas Platinum is rich and wonderful, as if La Prairie saw how a classic was being maligned and took matters into its own hands.

Issey Miyake's A Scent was wonderful to run into at the the counter. I prefer it to the very similar Estee Lauder Private Collection Jasmine White Moss, which feels sharper and somehow more synthetic to me. Again, a throwback: A Scent speaks the language of the vintage green chypre, albeit scrubbed clean. Less successful a remake was Narciso Rodriquez Essence, a fresh scrubbed rose as metallic and molten as its wonderful bottle. Hands down, Essence was the bottle of the year for me. The fragrance was well done, if not particularly interesting. I liked it a lot better than its peers.

The most hideous bottle award would go to Lolita Lempicka Si Lempicka. What planet are these people on--and exactly what kind of psychedelic unicorn populates it? Excuses to those who find it dreamy but the line's first bottle was awful enough, tripped out like My Little Pony's ceremonial saddle, gilded gewgaws and all. Far from an improvement, this one reminds me of something a child distracted by a conflicted psyche might make in art class out of clay, paint, and glittered drool.

I think the best the mall had to offer me was Alien Liqueur. A fan of the original, I often defended it. No Carnal Flower, maybe--no "head space technology"--but a fantastic improvement on Dominique Ropion's original, a spray of which never ceases to make me happy somewhere in my own conflicted psyche. I secretly hoped the Liqueur version would not disappoint, and the unicorns were listening, because it's a wondrous thing, a true desert island keeper. I could go on and on about this stuff. The Angel version, though pretty damn decent itself, felt a bit muddled toward the drydown, like somebody got bored before really thinking it through. Also very good: A*Men Pure Malt.

Don't get me started on masculines again. I can't keep going on about it. I get depressed. The new DKNY was appallingly pedestrian, and who could distinguish it (the packaging, the juice, the color scheme, the model) from Versace's latest (also wretched) and a dozen others. These lines are also guilty of needlessly confusing the consumer by using the same name, over and over, across ten different fragrances. Versace Homme or Versace Pour Homme? Versace Pour Homme or Versace L'Homme? DKNY WHAT--at this point? Someone please send these people a link to basenotes.

You know things are bad when a new release aims for, not the forgotten, original spirit of a classic fragrance, but its utterly forgettable reformulation. Case in point, Usher V.I.P. Hey Usher: Your smile is infectious. Your cologne is a cancer. Next time you copy Fahrenheit, dig a little deeper (into the past, into your pockets, into your imagination). You might have been sucking a pacifier at the time, but the eighties are hardly ancient history. Play Intense was hardly much of an improvement on the original Play (a.k.a. Not So Intense). It had the nice smoked tar and anise qualities of Black and Lolita au Masculin, but applied it so subtly you might rightly assume Givenchy has become scared of its own shadow.

Carolina Herrera's CH Men was a happy medium, though in these odds medium becomes a rather mercurial compass point. The down side was a rather robust synthetic amber. The up side was an interesting interplay of notes (somewhere between Lutens and lothario) and the sense an imagination was at play in the battlefield of commerce.

Speaking of amber, where has it been all my life? I was not a fan until this year. The difference was made by a process of gradual elimination. Straight up amber? Not so much. Smoky, rich, tarry, leathery? I'm clearing a space on my plate. Teo Cabanel's Alahine was a revelation for me (Thank you, Abigail). Parfum D'Empire's Ambre Russe had already pointed me in the right direction. Annick Goutal's Ambre Fetiche, after some initial confusion, has been the nail in the coffin. For months, almost a year, I'd mistaken my sample of Ambre Fetiche for Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier's Or des Indes. It's complicated, as they say on Facebook. Why was everyone saying Or Des Indes smells so much like Shalimar? I wasn't seeing the connection. Why was everyone raving about Ambre Fetiche? I wasn't seeing the appeal. Where was the amber? Much later, after deciding I couldn't go on without a bottle of what I took to be Or Des Indes, I received it in the mail and discovered.....hmmmm.....Shalimar. One bottle of Ambre Fetiche was soon on the way from Rei Rien. Ambre Fetiche is said to have an overload of synthetic amber. If this is how good synthetic amber smells, I fail to see the problem there. In the course of a year I went from amber apathy to double holy grail. Under great if not groundbreaking: Dior's Ambre Nuit, a wonderful rose amber which lasts with unusual tenacity and feels as rich as the bottle is smooth.

The trend for exclusive lines continued to articulate itself in 2009. An adjunct to this trend was the inauguration of several lines under the names of their perfumers. I haven't smelled Francis Kurkdjian's line yet, nor Mark Buxton's, but oh how I want to. Reports indicate that the latter is uneven, while the former is...not. Van Cleef released its "Collection Extraordinaire". Based on reactions to the price, I'm not sure the conclusion was extraordinary, but the iris was said by Robin at NowSmellThis to be quite good. I fell in love with Chanel's Coromandel this year, and Sycomore has been raved about by many. It seems that Chanel is at the forefront of these exclusive lines. The verdict is still out on Cartier's Les Heures du Parfum.

Biggest letdown at the department store--and the most depressing indicator of the mainstream mindset: YSL Parisienne. It was something like Sharon Stone replacing Gena Rowlands in the totally gratuitous and mercilessly unentertaining remake of "Gloria", all surface embellishment. It smelled better in the bottle than anywhere near the skin. Gloria too esoteric a reference for you? How about Fran Drescher replacing the voice of Bambi's mother in the original Disney cartoon?

A list of the most spectacular niche fragrances I found this year would have to includeHistoires des Parfums 1740, which is so good it feels like contraband I should hide and find a way to smoke in a very ornate pipe. I've decided I can't do it justice. It's too sensory an experience. It doesn't lend itself to words. Thanks to Abigail, I smelled most if not all of the Parfums MDCI line. A standout for me was Vepres Siciliennes. Classified as a fruity chypre, it was so much richer than anything I've experienced in that category. Invasion Barbare was astonishing; Peche Cardinal, great fun, a joy ride in a convertible Porsche, full speed ahead. Curiously, the MDCI offerings from masters Pierre Bourdon and Patricia de Nicolai were the least interesting to me.

Under great but disappointing, file Ulrich Lang's Nightscape, which has its moments but too often sits on the skin sulking, a pout taking over its features. At times it seems to be scowling. I liked Acqua di Parma's Profumo, but the price tag made ME scowl. Then I walked away. Having walked away, I promptly forgot about it. Note to Acqua di Parma: Aramis at 50 bucks intrigues me. At 400, I need memorable, or you do, if your intention is my intention to buy. High points to Robert Piguet. The care with which this line is being re-asserted is admirable and should set an example to all large companies seeking to reinvigorate their bought out inventory. The Futur reformulation (by Aurelien Guichard) is fantastic--for about ten minutes. Oh what a ten minute fantasy it is. Metallically green in the fashion of Paco Rabbane Metal, gusty in the manner of Vent Vert--yet while Vent Vert blows back and forth, Futur plows straight ahead, no looking back, until but a memory. No matter. Seeing all the Piguet bottles lined up, knowing each fragrance has been handled well, makes me immensely happy.

I've tried but two of the Boadicea the Victorious fragrances. I'd heard such bad things. I now know to be prepared to disregard such accepted misgivings when it comes to something about which I maintain more than a healthy curiosity. I kept thinking about Complex. Violet and hard core leather. What's not to love? Reviewers call it everything short of the most insidiously vile excuse for a fragrance ever inflicted upon an unsuspecting society. Finally, I ordered a sample. There was no expected drumroll. Flat out, instant reaction: I love the stuff--as passionately as others despise it. The idea it might offend seems so laughable to me that I can't help imagining the scathing commentary about it online was dreamed up by its marketers.

Bond No.9 continues to disenchant its admirers and reinforce the resentment of its detractors. I suggest less rather than more. Less bullying. Less perfume. I smelled the Oud. It's nice. Cats are nice too. I'll pet yours but I don't want any. That said, the Bond I most eagerly anticipated, Success Is A Job In New York, while nice (lovely, even) didn't make my must have list. That place of privelege went to--big surprise--Harrod's for Her. Listen, it's a nuclear strength spiced tuberose. It will win you no friends in any indoor environment. It smells very much like Michael by Michael Kors. There's every reason not to like it, let alone own it, but I've fallen hard for it. There's something very lucid and opulent about it, like a ten-tier wedding cake made in an E-Z Bake oven.

If I must pick an oud, I'm going with Le Labo's. It's the only time I can remember a fragrance stopping me dead in my tracks. I walked past a friend wearing it in a large hall and it slapped me in the face with a tickle and some tongue. No traffic was stalled by L'Artisan's effort. It might just be me and Bertrand Duchaufour. We don't always see eye to eye. That said...I loved Penhaligons' Amaranthine. My problems with Duchaufour have often to do with diffusion. Where does it go? Into what wormhole slips the scent of his fragrances once they hit skin? It's as though someone entered a party smelling wonderfully of some unknown perfume, but left the door open, so the wind carries it all away. Amaranthine was robust and declarative. This guest closes the door behind her.

I'm in love with Sonoma Scent Studio's Tabac Aurea and Liz Zorn's Purple Love Smoke. These two indies really launched me into some fascinating headspace. A friend tells a story about the single most defining moment of her childhood. She'd just returned from a screening of Mary Poppins. Dick Van Dyke had drawn a chalk scene on the pavement and the cast had jumped in, entering a parallel world. When she got home, my friend drew on her own chalk board, placed it on the floor, and took a leap of faith. The flimsy, store-bought chalk board broke, which must have been like learning Santa Claus is a fraud and those cookies get eaten by your mom and dad. Tabac Aurea and Purple Love Smoke are examples of the rare fragrance, which, having drawn a fantasy with chalk, ushers you in and has the substance to sustain what its surface promised. I found them mesmerizing. I long for a Purple Love Smoke EDP, though I know I'm not getting it and I understand and respect why, but oh, to float around in those vapors.

I continue to be surprised exploring the range of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. There are misses--there would have to be, with hundreds of oils to choose from--but the treasures make the hunt worthwhile. Every year, limited editions are released. Some of these are coveted on Ebay and go for big bucks. I'm glad to have two of the year's best: Diable en Boite and Now Winter Night Enlarge. The former pits tangy peach against hemp, tobacco, clove and tonka, resulting in a thing of wonder--somewhere in the half life between the succulent fermentation of Yvresse and the classic, balls-out Oriental Spicy. There's a little devil on the label, but this stuff is a big piece of heaven. Now Winter is even better still: vanilla-infused red musk, champaca, petitgrain, ylang ylang, patchouli, nutmeg, honey, galbanum, and traces of caramel. As weird as that all sounds, it doesn't prepare you--which isn't to say Now Winter is an olfactory assault. The strangest thing is how beautiful it is, how incredible it smells out of the bottle, and how many changes it goes through on the skin. Now that Ava Luxe has stopped producing as much or any of her fragrances, I'm gravitating toward BPAL even more frequently. It satisfies a certain level of curiosity and adventure I bring to perfume in ways no other niche, indie, or mainstream line does, taking off-the-wall risks, some of which pay off in dividends.

One of the best things about the year was my continuing friendship with co-blogger Abigail. It's hard to believe we've been doing this together for over a year and a half and haven't met in person. Our friendship has been a huge boost for me on a daily basis. If you don't have a friend in fragrance, find one. Post comments. Make your profile available (i.e. not anonymous). It's worth it.

Along those lines, I have gotten so much out of reading fellow bloggers this year. Like you, maybe, I visit them every day. I thoroughly enjoy them all for different reasons.

Other participants in this year end best of exercise are listed in Abigail's post.

Well Hello, Sunshine: Alahine (Teo Cabanel)

Smelling Alahine for the first time was a unique moment for me. I can't remember the last time I responded so emotionally to a perfume, when the clinical part of my mind was so swiftly bypassed, the more associative part so thoroughly ignited. Alahine is that rare fragrance for me, managing to meet my expectations without sacrificing the element of surprise.

What you do expect, from the raves on various blogs and boards, is an amber oriental. What catches you off guard is the mercurial development of the thing. Alahine goes through so many stages that at various points throughout the day I imagined I must be smelling something else I couldn't remember putting on. It has the complexity of (and more than a little resemblance to) vintage Bal a Versailles. They share a balsamic warmth, though Alahine remains sunnier. Bal a Versailles, if sunny at all, is constantly threatened by clouds. It retreats into a darkened room, becoming more insular. Alahine has its own drama, but it's a drama played out in the open, in broad daylight. The colors give away these differences, the one lucidly gold, the other a more inscrutable reddish brown. For me, Alahine is the untroubled person Bal a Versailles once was.

Granted, it's a setting sun, a rich, sulfurous gold. Out the gate, it seems to me more aldehyde than amber. The florals are hazed, one of those gorgeous old soft-focus photos, the light flaring in star shapes, the flowers amorphous arrangements of color. Those florals pop, but with the kind of impressionistic fuzz you find in Cinnabar. It's a fantastic opening, and I would be happy dwelling indefinitely there. It does last a while. Gradually, things go even softer, becoming what some have characterized as powdery. I don't get that so much. There are far more powdered fragrances. What Alahine becomes is more humid, muskier, than that. Hours on, it's working magic across the skin, shifting the subject from flowers to to field.

The later stages of development are where I get the vanilla, the benzoin, the patchouli. These have the most interesting, extended conversation with each other, sometimes murmuring, sometimes getting a little more excited, projecting what they have to say. Between this and the opening come rolling impressions of rose, jasmine, and (particularly, for me) orange blossom. These aren't so pronounced that you can single them out with any kind of confidence, but you don't exactly want to anyway. Alahine is about this particular harmonious convergence, a sum of its parts in the best possible way. You forget for a second what any of these things smell like by themselves.

I'd also like to point out how sublimely unisex it is. This stuff would smell good on anyone. It seems custom blended for the person who happens to be wearing it the way a period feels inevitable at the end of a well written sentence. Abigail wrote me to say I should give Alahine time, not because I might revise my initial opinion but because it's something that you grow to understand over time. I believe that. After a year, she realized it was her holy grail, and she hadn't really been looking for one. I'd just been thinking the same thing, so I can't imagine where I might be in twelve months.

Abigail's review here.

TWRT 11.28.09

This week's random thoughts ~

Lush only sells their Snowcake soap during the holidays, so I bought 12 bars. Snowcake smells like almondy goodness. I long for it all year.

I am still full from Thanksgiving. There are leftovers aplenty. Make them go away.

You know, I am a really huge fan of Beauty Habit. They've had a 20% off sale all this month. Luckyscent never has discounts (aside from free shipping which I must give them credit for). But with Beauty Habit I've received 20% off plus free shipping. I love them. There's only a day or two left of this sale - should I order Strange Invisible Perfumes Fire and Cream unsniffed?

I've settled on SPF 30 on my face. Does anyone have an SPF cream for the face they truly love? I'm using Aveeno Ultra Calming Daily Moisturizer (fragrance free SPF 30 for sensitive skin). It's ok but it does the usual thing I hate which is make my skin all shiny. My skin leans toward oily and I've never found an SPF which doesn't make me seem greasy. Is there anything out there - that is also fragrance free, non-comedogenic and the like? Suggestions are immensely appreciated.

I placed A LOT of orders this week with all the wonderful sales. Next week will be so amazing with all the boxes showing up. I can't wait. Amazon had special magazine subscription deals for $5 bucks so I bought a few as holiday gifts. Discover and Popular Science for myself but I can be geeky.

Beverage of the week: Agua de Jamaica, a Mexican juice drink which I believe to be sweetened Hibiscus iced tea. The first time I drank it I was on the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico, we were inland, not at the tourist traps, but touring the "real" Mexico. (If you do this rent a 4x4 truck and learn some Spanish), and Agua de Jamaica seemed to be the local favorite drink. I was pleasantly surprised to find it here in New Mexico and tasting just the same.

Are you watching Parks and Recreation with Amy Poehler? Sorry I'm bringing this up again. The sitcom is so darn funny and I still live in fear of it being canceled. It's my #1 comedy/sitcom now, with The Office and 30 Rock trailing behind it.

If you live near Trader Joe's and haven't tried their Peach Salsa you simply must. It might sound terrible but it is so good. I've converted everyone I know to Peach Salsa Fiends. Even those who only took a bite because I was forcing them with an eager face. Most are astonished at how good it is.

I hope LT and TS never review my beloved Teo Cabanel Alahine. I'm at the point where Alahine parfum extrait is my #1 HG of all time. If they were to give it a bad review, even though I'm not supposed to care because this is an entirely personal choice, I'd be crushed and would feel obliged to write to them to tell them they're simply wrong. I would have to tell them their subjective personal opinions are just wrong. (!) Perhaps they didn't wear it on skin - only tested it paper? Alahine is exquisite, there is no doubt.

I'm not mentioning my love of Laurie Erickson of Sonoma Scent Studio this week because I'm not a stalker. I'm not.

I admit to being upset/angry with Serena of Ava Luxe. I loved several of her fragrances. I know she moved on to create jewelry and no longer eau de parfums and this is her life, her livelihood, her choice; but she's deprived me of some of my favorite fragrances. So I'm upset and sad.

Doesn't it drive you crazy when you're reading reviews on basenotes or MUA and you just know they're not reviewing the correct fragrance? For instance, you can tell a reviewer is describing YSL NU edt instead of edp and hope their low opinion on the edt doesn't sway anyone interested in the edp because it's so much better? I also maintain the perhaps unpopular opinion that you can't review a fragrance based solely on a 1 ml dab-on sample vial.

I can't wait to get my NM driver's license because my NJ license picture was the worst pic I've ever taken.

I didn't wear fragrance for Thanksgiving. With all the cooking and guests it didn't seem right. I received a sample of Laura Mercier Pistachio moisturizer from Nordstroms and used that instead. Doesn't it figure that everyone told me I smelled amazing? It was a delectable scent - utterly gourmand and it lasted for hours - amazing longevity actually - for a lotion.

Have a fragrant weekend everyone!

The Sexiest Perfumes

Its a frequently asked question on the fragrance board at MUA, something along the lines of: "which fragrance is a man magnet? what do you consider to be the sexiest perfume? what scent gets the most compliments?" Usually the question comes from a newbie or someone visiting from another board. Many times the question is answered with jokes, such as "bacon" or "beer" or "just get naked." The question of what is a sexy perfume is asked so often it's hard for board regulars to bother answering it. Mostly, when a few good souls take the time to answer, something along the lines of "wear whatever makes you feel good," is the response.

Wearing what makes you happy and therefore feel good and sexy is the correct answer. But occasionally I get to thinking about what constitutes a generically sexy scent. I've come to the conclusion that a sexy fragrance is one that smells man-made, not something realistic like a soliflore or a specific aroma in nature. I wouldn't consider a scent that smells like true red roses or honeysuckle or peach salsa or cedar wood chips to be sexy. I do, however, think orientals and florientals are the sexiest scents. Chypres, to me, are fragrances one wears for herself. I can't imagine any chypre I own as sexy. Chypres are too complicated, intelligent, wanting to talk. Big aldehydic fragrances are too prissy and pulled together. I adore Le Labo Aldehyde 44 *because* it makes me feel dressed and complete, not undressed in a dimly lit room. I don't think anyone thinks hesperedic or green fragrances are sexy - I wear these to feel fresh and practical.

Here's my list of sexy orientals and florientals:

(in alphabetical order)

Alahine by Teo Cabanel - Alahine is a smoldering aldehydic amber with floral notes woven throughout. It's noticeable, warm and perhaps equally as sophisticated & refined as it is sexy. Alahine makes your skin hot and your mind wander. It's classic with a racy undercurrent. (Alternatives: hmmm, not really similar but picking up on the amber theme - maybe Laura Mercier Minuit Enchante or Parfum d'Empire Ambre Russe but these are less polished)

Alien Liqueur Limited Edition - Alien Liqueur is hypnotic. It's the original Alien with a boozy, woody bent. It's heavy lidded and languid. It's sweet, spicy and addictive. (Alternative: Dior Addict)

Amarige by Givenchy - Amarige is perfume wearing stilettos. It doesn't whisper come hither, it announces it with a husky voice ala Kathleen Turner circa Body Heat. (Alternative: Jean Paul Gaultier Classique)

Barbara Bui Le Parfum - Barbara Bui is probably the most low-key and whisper-y type of sexy fragrance I can think of. If you don't want a potent perfume then this is your answer. Barbara Bui is all about the smell of your lovers undershirt and pillowcase. (Alternative: Costes)

Chaldee by Jean Patou - Musky and sweet, warm and animalic, slightly dirrrrty. Chaldee is an olfactory negligee. (Alternative: Bond No. 9 Fire Island)

Divine eau de parfum - Bombshell tuberose-oriental. Hollywood Glamour. (Alternative: maybe Chinatown, not completely sure)

Gucci eau de parfum - Gucci is a sensual skin scent extraordinaire. It's musky, sweet, herbal, spicy and becomes you. Gucci melts into your skin. If I could have sex with Gucci eau de parfum, I would, but then you'd think I was weird.

LouLou by Cacharel - another Hollywood Glamour scent here. LouLou is a bit less extravagant than Divine. LouLou might wear fishnets under her tailored suit and carry an old fashioned cigarette case in her purse for the occasional dalliance over coffee.

Monyette Paris - Now this is one of the most overtly floral of the bunch. Monyette is predominantly gardenia focused scent but it veers away from big in-your-face florals and falls firmly in the camp of sexy with it's luscious nag champa and mind altering musks.

Musc Ravageur by Frederic Malle - In some ways, Musc Ravageur is similar in style to Gucci edp. MR is a sweet, vanillic musk with what seems like layer upon layer of different musks. There's a stage of Musc Ravageur when sniffing it numbs my nostrils like novocaine or some such thing (surely the clove). It's a naughty scent, pure and simple. (Alternative: not particularly similar but a runner up: Chanel Coromandel. Perhaps the only Chanel I find sexy).

Songes by Annick Goutal - Another overtly floral fragrance - almost too floral to be sexy but it manages a kittenish little shimmy towards the dark side with it's buttery tuberose, tropical frangipani and indolic white florals. (Alternative: Penhaligons Amaranthine)

I didn't include these in the above list, but obviously Shalimar should be included and the following masculines strike me as having the ability to make a bombshell out of a guy: Hermes Terre d'Hermes, Fahrenheit (don't shoot me), Parfums MDCI Invasion Barbare, Fresh Index Tobacco Flower, Creed Tabarome, Annick Goutal Sables and Caron Yatagan.

So, what fragrances do YOU think are sexy? Do you care? Do you avoid fragrances like these? Can we even define sexy perfumes or are they, like most things, entirely individual? What I'm wondering, is whether there is a culturally agreed upon type of scent which strikes most as sexy. Hmmm...

becker eshaya golden amber

Last week I suggested that b.e. golden amber is the D&G Light Blue of ambery scents. By this, I meant that b.e. golden amber is simple, easily worn and ultra pleasing. I was thinking about golden amber because my colleague, Susan, who is my current perfume-project, has been wearing the sample I gave her. It smelled absolutely wonderful on her. If I hadn’t known what it was, I would have been knocking on her office door, or trailing after her like Pepe Le Pew.

Fragrant amber has been on my mind. It was ironic that Brian posted about amber fragrances today (the post below this one). It seems true amber essential oil doesn’t exist; the amber scent in perfumery is typically a synthetic aroma chemical or an umbrella term used to describe several fragrances used together resulting in an “ambery” scent (e.x., labdanum, benzoin, tonka, ambergris, oppoponax). Fragrant amber is not the fossilized bronze-orange colored stone nor is it ambergris. Ambergris, by the way, comes from the lining of a sperm whale’s stomach which is said to smell horrendous at first but beautiful once dried.

I found the following, very basic, definition for fragrant amber from Wikipedia: “a large fragrance class featuring the sweet animalic scents of ambergris or labdanum, often combined with vanilla, flowers and woods. Can be enhanced by camphorous oils and incense resins.”

It seems, most likely, that there are natural elements to fragrant amber; one being labdanum, which is, indeed, a real essential oil. Labdanum (also called Cistus) is an essential oil from the rock rose shrub. Also ambergris (or the synthetic version of it) usually provides a salty quality.

The scent of amber varies fairly drastically; it can be sweet, pungent, musty, salty, spicy, woody, resinous, warm, animalic, balsamic and so on. To say that amber is a fragrant chameleon is an understatement, however, for me, one similarity amongst all ambery scents is that they are comforting. Amber is a staple in my perfume wardrobe and I have a big collection of scents falling under this scent category. My absolute favorite is Teo Cabanel Alahine, which is a stunningly sophisticated ambery scent with a dry, aldehydic Chanel-esque quality. Other ambers are more rugged and complex, paired with tobacco, woody and earthy elements, such as Parfum d’Empire’s Ambre Russe, Sonoma Scent Studio’s Ambre Noir and Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the uber-sweet ambers, such as Estee Lauder Amber Ylang Ylang or just about anything ambery from Bath & Body Works.

The beauty of becker eshaya golden amber is that it’s a middle of the road amber. It’s not very sweet nor is it especially earthy or challenging. I noticed when Susan was wearing golden amber that it’s pleasing yet stands out as something unique. When I smell golden amber on myself (close up) it starts off with mild citrus top notes then settles into a beautifully salty-sandy-floral amber with just the suggestion of a spicy woody side that allows the overall fragrance to stay dry.

To sum it up, I think becker eshaya golden amber is a gem. It is easy to love and easy to wear. It’s definitely not a sweet syrupy amber nor a deeply resinous, vanillic or woody amber. Golden amber is delicate and light yet manages to be a tenacious little critter. The addition of citrus and fruit notes are well done and while perhaps not something I would have imagined to blend well (pre-sniff), it totally works

golden amber notes: mandarin, bergamot, lychee, jasmine, golden amber, sandalwood, cashmere wood, patchouli and musk.

Kristen Michéle Épice Orientale: A Review

Kristen Michéle is a new niche perfumer on the scene creating some lovely fragrances. I had the opportunity to try all three of her fragrances; Épice Orientale, Fleurs Blanches and Notes Fraiches, each of which are lovely and different yet carry within them a similar thread that makes them seem obviously created by the same individual. Kristen Michéle perfumes smell to me like chic timeless classics with a modern twist. My favorite of the three is Épice Orientale.

To me, Floral-Orientals are the sexiest fragrance category. The blending of typically feminine florals with typically masculine spices creates a beautifully balanced yin-yang impression. The base notes of patchouli, amber and sandalwood seem to allow the floral and citrus notes to flutter in and out of your awareness in a light, sweet but understated manner. Épice Orientale is a beautifully classic oriental, which makes me think of film actresses from the 30’s and 40’s. While Épice Orientale definitely shows its classic oriental roots, there’s an airy modern appeal, keeping it from smelling too heavy or serious. Épice Orientale is a sexy little number but I think it can easily be worn for any occasion, from the most casual to formal elegance.

Notes: blood orange, jasmine, clove, amber, patchouli, incense and sandalwood

I’m impressed by the balance between sweet and dry ~ Épice Orientale is perfectly in the middle, it’s not too sweet or too dry. The amber, patchouli and sandalwood seem to be of high quality. The amber, in particular, is not syrupy sweet in the least and reminds me a bit of the ambery quality of Teo Cabanel Alahine. I don’t frequently receive perfume compliments but both days I wore Épice Orientale I received several.

Longevity: Slightly better than average ~ 4-5 hours

Sillage: depends on application, it can go either way. The first time I wore it I applied 2 sprays, one on each wrist and it was soft. The second time I wore it I applied 2 sprays to each wrist/arm and then it was easily detected by me and others very close to me.

Kristen Michéle website

Teo Cabanel Alahine, A Review

A quick background on Teo Cabanel:

Teo Cabanel is a small perfumery originally established in Algiers around 1893. The perfume house moved to Paris in 1908, where it became the preferred perfumery of the Dutchess of Windsor. Today you'll find that Teo Cabanel has reasserted itself as a creator of luxurious perfumes using the finest natural elements. The master perfumer is Jean-Fracois Latty, who is the "nose" behind all three fragrances. In 2005, Teo Cabanel launched two perfumes; Oha and Julia. In 2007, they launched Alahine. I’m told there’s a new perfume launch that’s either just happened or about to this summer.

The listed notes are as follows:
Top notes: bergamot, ylang ylang
Middle notes: bulgarian rose, moroccan orange tree, jasmine, pepper plant
Base notes: iris concrete, cistus, patchouli, benzoin, vanilla, musk

The listed notes don’t smell anything like the fragrance to me. Overall, I find Alahine to be a smooth, perfectly done, ambery oriental. This is one of the rare times when I read other reviews of Alahine and wonder if there’s something wrong with my nose. For me, Alahine opens with a burst of ever-so-slight citrus & floral notes, that are truly unrecognizable, I really can’t pick out the bergamot or ylang ylang or rose or jasmine, it’s all very well blended into a scent that, for me, is unique to Alahine. Very quickly it turns into a velvety amber, that is the most sophisticated and deluxe amber I have ever smelled. Alahine is oriental amber extreme with the most wondrous complexity that seems to include hints of pepper, musk, benzoin, sandalwood and patchouli. Alahine dries down fast; I would estimate it takes only 10 minutes for it to settle into the final fragrance that will last on your skin for hours.

Alahine is particularly well-mannered. It never screams, appears overdone or is even too soft or subtle. It has perfect lasting power and sillage; on my skin I’d say it lasts easily 4-6 hours and the sillage is just enough for those close to you to smell it. I imagine Alahine wafting around me all day in circles - swirling and swirling like an accomplished and practiced ballerina. I’m choosing these words very specifically; Alahine, if she were a person, would be accomplished and practiced. Alahine, if she were a person would be sophisticated, polite and charming. Ms. Alahine would be wearing the most beautifully crafted, high-quality dress, perhaps custom made for her, however, it wouldn’t shout out to you in a crowd, it would be tastefully classic. Ms. Alahine is the sort of woman at a party that effortlessly works the room, most everyone comes by to speak with her anyway, she doesn’t request the attention, others just magnetically flock to her. She’s a born charmer, with naturally pretty features, she’s the epitome of class and distinction, yet humble and kind.

I’ve never sought out ambery oriental perfumes before. I still don’t typically rush to purchase fragrances described as such even now. Alahine is perhaps my first ambery oriental love. Maybe I don’t know of the others that smell like this so I don’t have anything to compare it with; nevertheless, I think it is exceptionally beautiful. Alahine is one of the few “uncommon” perfumes that I wear which always receives compliments. And, not that I’m supposed to care very much about the packaging, but the bottle is so lovely and elegant. Everything about Teo Cabanel, and especially Alahine, is just beautiful.