TWRT 1.02.09

I don’t know what it is about the movie Arthur (Dudley Moore, Liza Minelli, 1981) but it makes me incredibly nostalgic. I was a child when I saw Arthur. It couldn’t have made much sense to me back then. If it’s on television I watch it, I must have seen Arthur at least 20 times by now. I love the theme song as well, sung by Christopher Cross. Its ultimate elevator music but I love it. (“…if you get lost between the moon and New York City…”)

Pancakes taste amazing at midnight.

Revelation: Chanel No. 22 body lotion paired with No. 22 pure parfum is too good to be true. I’ve been swooning all over myself for days. I feel so fortunate and thankful to have both the lotion and the parfum.

Watching Arthur tends to make me drink. This evening I paired Arthur with a Dirty Goose (a Grey Goose vodka martini with olives and olive juice).

Chanel Beige has grown on me immensely. I think this is one of the best new perfumes from 2008. Initially I expected something a bit more than simply a “pretty” perfume. But Beige is a very well done freesia, it’s just lovely. It’s nothing edgy or interesting but it’s a pretty, well done and classy fragrance.

Not much more than one year ago I thought I disliked Chanel. Now I have nearly every single one and I adore them. Except I have never sniffed Chanel’s Sephora variety – such as Chance & Allure – are these worth sniffing?

Mallomars, made by Nabisco, are the ultimate grocery store cookie.

I’ve seen a slew of Christmas release movies over the past week. Here’s my take: Seven Pounds with Will Smith (which I like to call Seven Buckets of Sob), it was dreadful; Benjamin Button: dreadful, Cate Blanchett could not save this awkward flick; The Wrestler, this is supposedly Mickey Rourke’s comeback movie, it was miserable, Marisa Tomei’s character is flat and one-dimensional. Perhaps Rourke acted well but the movie was such a drag. Slumdog Millionaire, this was the highlight, I loved it, highly recommend.

Up Country makes wonderful dog & cat collars. I love the fabrics they use and the fact that everything is handmade. Check out their website: http://www.upcountryinc.com/

I really like Ellen DeGeneres. She’s seems to be such a positive, happy and easy-going person. I watched her day-time talk show this week and love the way she dances around.

I just finished reading The Thirteenth Tale, it’s a great book.

Not much longer before Big Love starts up again on HBO (cannot wait) and also American Idol (my guilty pleasure).

A Letter to Dominique Ropion

Dear Dominique Ropion,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours truly,
Abigail

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

2008 Discoveries

Thank goodness perfume doesn’t contain calories because I’ve indulged in countless perfumes over the past year. Of all these fragrant moments, the following 12 perfumes were stunning standouts and will permanently take their place in my collection. This list is a mix of brand new perfumes as well as existing perfumes that were new to me this year.

Balmain Ivoire (thanks to Brian for the introduction)
Chanel 31 Rue Cambon
Chanel No. 22
Creed, Love in Black (or Comme des Garcons + Stephen Jones)
Donna Karan, Chaos
Frederic Malle, Une Rose (thanks to Brian for the introduction)
Juliette Has a Gun, Citizen Queen
Serge Lutens, Chergui
Soivohle’ by Liz Zorn, Underworld
Sonoma Scent Studio, Winter Woods
Tauer Perfumes, Vetiver Dance
Yves Saint Laurent, Nu EdP (thanks to Brian for the introduction)
D'Orsay Tilleul
Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique
Lalique, Le Parfum

Care to share your standouts?

Happy 2009 to all! Best wishes for health, success, happiness, prosperity, fun, peace and countless fragrant moments.

PS: Here I am, trying to get out of the house to go celebrate New Year's Eve, and I keep thinking about my 2008 list - something wasn't right - I'd forgotten some important new findings - well it just came to me....D'Orsay Tilleul, Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique and Lalique Le Parfum. I've added these 3 to the above list making it a list of 15. Oh, well, it was a good perfume year, what can I say?

Late to the Party: Donna Karan Chaos

I’m ecstatic. I found DK Chaos, a jewel of a perfume, at the moment it’s been reissued. I never smelled the original and didn’t know very much about it until reading that it was to be reissued this year. I’m happy I never smelled the original because I need not concern myself with whether the reformulation lives up to the pre-discontinued juice.

I have no idea how I missed Chaos the first time around. I’m a huge fan of Black Cashmere and even purchased 3 back-up bottles in the frightening event of discontinuation. Chaos slipped silently under my radar screen all these years.

Chaos’ list of notes reads like my fantasy bespoken fragrance: (taken from basenotes) sandalwood, cardamom, cinnamon, padukwood, agarwood, saffron, clove, amber, musk, sage, lavender, chamomile and coriander.

Chaos is the ultimate woodsy spicy oriental scent. It is so perfect that it almost smells familiar ~ like something that has always existed. Chaos must have been quite edgy back in the 90’s. I was so proud of Estee Lauder for launching Sensuous this year, but this was before I knew of another more daring and beautiful woodsy fragrance which had already been introduced to the mainstream market over a decade earlier. A molten river of wood? Chaos fits this description, not Sensuous.

I’m nearly delirious from sniffing and spritzing Chaos. I cannot get enough. I just sprayed the inside of my suitcases and bags with it. The name, however, doesn’t suit the scent ~ it is much closer to peaceful and serene than chaotic.

Kudos to Donna Karan for the new bottles, too. I thought the older Black Cashmere vessel looked like an odd thing - a black vibrator to put it bluntly. The new bottles are simple, classic and easier to hold and spray.

Longevity: very good, 5+ hours
Sillage: soft but definite projection
Rating: 5 stars

PS: I should tell you that I purchased my bottle of Chaos from Bergdorf Goodman online. It cost $85, for a 3.4 oz bottle, which seems inexpensive, given how drop dead gorgeous this fragrance is, and how much it's been fetching during the discontinued years.

Seeing the Light in the Breath of God

Breath of God is a gospel CD by C. Millhuff which can be purchased on the Musichristian website for the miraculously low price of 5 dollars and 77 cents. This double length CD offers 700 biblical promises with orchestrated background of well known hymns--and it's only the first volume, which might mean God is a heavy breather. The compilation is "very spiritually reassuring and relaxing," says the manufacturer. Many use it at bed time for children. Bill & Gloria Gaither, whoever they are, describe it as 'overwhelming'. The opening track is called "All of You Who Endure", surely as much of a warning as an overture. "I Am Always Thinking of the Lord" follows, along with, among others, "No Mere Man", "Since We Believe in Jesus", and "Take My Yoke Upon You." What better at bedtime than a sedative?

It's easy and sometimes good for a laugh to poke fun at organized religion, not least when it ventures out into the marketplace with a lowest common denominator smile on its face. In fact, God is many things to many people. To a select few, He's no one at all, which of course is another kind of someone, as negative space is space all the same. Most people, even the most devoutly Christian, have some sense of spirituality. Where did it all come from? Where is it all heading? Who in His right mind would come up with those funny looking, hairless cats? The mind is constantly questioning. The world is full of wonder. Something, or someone, somewhere has to encapsulate all the wondrous conundrums that make up a life. You get so used to things, so buried in the mindless grooves of the day to day, that you can easily forget how amazingly complex and unlikely the universe and creation are. Something or someone has to remind you.

Every once in a while, along comes an entity which snaps you out of this, with such force, such clarity of purpose, that you see it all very clearly suddenly. In that moment of lucidity, you see it's both a joke and a dead serious, awe-inspiring proposition: your life, everyone else's, the fact that skyscrapers and barns co-exist in the same implausible scheme of things, along with Mozart and Mama's Family. The shaky brevity of relationships and our constant, heroic struggle to understand one another, how big it all is, how far reaching, how large and impossible to see all at once, how simultaneously tiny and interconnected: suddenly it all registers in stark, microscopic detail.

For some, that surreality check is a gospel record. For others, it's a sunset. A child's face, a mother's, a birth or death or a fugitive smell out on the street which instantly brings a loved one back to life. For perfume lovers, it might be finding that holy grail perfume. There among the dross of the mass market miasma might be--Eureka!--a vintage, unopened bottle of Magie Noire, Nombre, or Mitsouko. Such shocks to the system, rare enough on e-bay, are even harder to come by in contemporary perfume. So many fragrances flood the market annually that we lovers can become very blase about it all. More pink pepper, you say? Damn. Now that's a dilemma. I really wish I could buy it--but I just don't want to. There are still amazing perfumes being made, and by amazing I don't mean really beautiful or truly great. I'm talking about a perfume that recalibrates the cosmos for you.

Breath of God, in addition to being a gospel CD, is also just such a perfume. The supposed seven days of creation play out on your skin when you splash some of this preposterous stuff on. You can smell the barnyard (thank you, cade oil) and the orchard, the sky and the ground and everything in between. This perfume takes chances, reminding you of the high humor involved in a world which mixes nylon fanny packs and Bentleys into the same big pot. You might not like the results, but you're sure to be caught off guard.

Breath of God is made by B Never Too Busy to be Beautiful, a vegan cosmetics manufacturer related to Lush. The packaging and the overall aesthetic are similar enough that you might understandably confuse them as the same company, but there's nothing remotely close to Breath of God, as one would secretly hope. It comes in a silly, playful bottle perched on a pedestal. Its composition is equal parts Inhale and Exhale, both of which are fragrances themselves, also sold by BNTBTBB. There's a definite tension within Breath of God, creating the sense of yin and yang, its black and white halves roiling around like a winking Jesus. It doesn't do a lot of staying still, though it maintains its remarkable balance in movement. Breath of God contains cedarwood, rose, ylang ylang, vetiver, lemon, grapefruit, neroli, black pepper, sandalwood, and that wallop of cade, or so says the ad copy. What it smells like is much harder to break down, as it probably should be, with a name like that. In a flash, it goes from fruity to woodsy, from petrol to herbal, and back again.

I'm a fan of Lush's Karma, which I've tried in solid and own in liquid form. I wear it often. My good friend enjoys smelling it, though he says he wouldn't wear it. Breath of God would probably elicit the same verdict. I'm not sure that's such a problem. I know many people who admire Bandit's audacity but would no more put it on than they would a piece of ready-made art by Marcel Duchamp. Breath of God has that fearsome impressiveness to it. There's a lot of wit in there. It goes further than many perfumes dare, displaying a fascinating combination of finesse and crudity, a dual personality that feels, in practice, perfectly harmonious. It feels full, a double CD worth of inspiration. Breath of God is a breath of fresh air.

Some Thoughts on the Year: All the World's a Bathroom

I'm a latecomer to perfume, and 2008 was my awakening, starting with Vetiver Extraordinaire. A friend wrote about Vetiver Extraordinaire in a French magazine, making it sound like the best thing in the world. The only thing in the world. I'd visited him in Atlanta several months before and was shocked and a little uneasy when, watching a play in a dark theater, he pulled out a bottle of Comme des Garçons 2, uncapped it with much drama, then sprayed himself, and everyone around us, profusely.

It seemed hostile and generous at the same time, part assault, part act of mercy. When I asked him about 2 he mentioned he'd been writing about perfume a lot. I was fascinated. Write about perfume? Here was a serious, well known writer, respected for his novels about the lower east side and the denizens of old Times Square. Was he doing it in secret? Later, he emailed me the copy of his article on Vetiver, showing his real name, right at the top. I asked for a bottle last Valentine's Day. It seemed appropriately extravagant for the occasion: it came from far away (I ordered from France, if you can believe it, which shows what I knew), was costly (or so it seemed, compared to the mall), and surely, I figured, it would be a special perfume for special occasions.

At the time, I had maybe four or five fragrances: an old bottle of Coriandre, a Fragonard, something by Aveda, the original Comme des Garçons. It wasn't that I hadn't bought scents in the past. I just didn't know where to look. I didn't even know anything like Vetiver Extraordinaire existed, the world of niche perfumery being subterranean territory to me. My bottle of Coriandre reminded me of high school. I used to sneak into my stepmother's bathroom to smell it.

I did a lot of sneaking into bathrooms back then. When my sister or stepmother emerged from their rooms, they smelled fantastic. Their scents had gravitational force, and everything around them collapsed into that central point of interest for me. I envied that power. More importantly, I envied them that pleasure; that drama and intrigue. There was even solace in that dynamic somehow. Scent was emotional armor and hypnotic allure. Buying Coriandre later was a bit of a defiance for me, but I treated it the way I always had: I kept it in the bathroom, smelling it every once in a while or even obsessively. I never wore it, unless getting into bed, where no one would catch me.

I still remember the day Vetiver Extraordinaire arrived in the mail. It was packaged beautifully, and the glass bottle and chunky cap had a heft to it which seemed important, even momentous. It smelled like nothing I'd ever experienced. Dry and wet simultaneously, grassy, sheer. What was this vetiver stuff? A plant--a grass, you say? I sprayed some on at work and the whole office shifted. It was so combustible. It engaged the people around me, altering their behavior, altering my mood, my attitude, my imagination. It truly was momentous, and in the weirdest possible way.

I started researching perfume. Here was my stepmother's bathroom, spread out all over the world. A little bathroom called Frederic Malle, in Paris, France; stark and sleek, black and red and dull green glass. Little bathrooms called The Different Company, Le Labo--and hey, what about that Comme des Garçons perfume the writer had employed to change the course of the play we were watching? What of number "2"?

The first part of this awakening for me was a systematic run through of all the perfumes which had ever secretly captured my imagination. First up was Angel. Years ago, when it came out, I'd smelled it as quickly as possible on the shelves. What would I do if a saleperson came over and started asking me questions? I wanted that smell for my own more than anything. This year, I bought it at the mall, where the saleswomen indeed hovered around me, sizing me up. What kind of husband or boyfriend was I, their eyes were asking? How big a dupe? They talked me into the most expensive bottle they had, deluding me somehow into believing my girlfriend (essentially myself in this scenario) deserved the very best. Hadn't she waited long enough?

A month or so later I visited Portland, wondering, "Do they have any interesting bathrooms?" They did! The Perfume House, my host said, but she didn't think it was much. It was closed the first few days of my trip and I passed the time in Nordstrom and Saks, where I got Declaration Essence and smelled Gucci pour Homme for the first time. When I was looking at Declaration Essence, I sprayed it ever so slightly on my wrist. No no, the saleswoman said, taking the bottle from me. "How will you enjoy THAT?" Before I could answer she'd sprayed more perfume than I'd ever dared, covering my wrist in a wet pool of smell. It was so strong that when I walked into the nail salon to let my host smell, it registered over the toxic stench of nail products. I walked around inside the dream of that aroma all day.

The Perfume House really did it for me. Located in an old home on the middle of a busy street, its curious effect on my outlook was incalculably transforming. For someone who associated perfume with private, clandestine areas of the house, being in a house stocked full of bottles, everywhere you looked, was revolutionary. I can't explain how life changing this was for me. It took perfume out of the bathroom: brought it right out into the open, into the living room, the bedroom, the foyer, the bedroom. And everyone came out with it, setting bottles and cotton swabs of scent all over the counters and shelves. It was a four day conversation about perfume and for once the subject didn't feel like a dirty secret. The whole history of the world was tucked inside the topic. How strange to emerge from the building. Out on the street, no one else seemed to be having the conversation.

Over the next four or five days I spent roughly ten hours there. It was an intensive crash course on just some of the variety available in fragrance. Lutens, L'Artisan, Amouage, Piguet, Carthusia, Lalique, Patou, Crown, Goutal. The owner and his staff were wonderful. They made no assumptions, no value judgments, knew something about everything they stocked. What they couldn't remember they immediately looked up, without my having to ask. I bought five or six perfumes that trip: Dzing!, Sables, Bois 1920 Classic, Comme des Garçons 2, Chypre Rouge. My last day, I had a cold and was quietly devastated that I couldn't smell the things I'd bought. Regardless, I didn't want to leave.

The interesting if perhaps predictable thing is that since that time I have purchased everything I smelled and liked in that store over the course of those four days. And then some, naturally. Am I trying to make up for lost time? Maybe. Last night, thinking about it all, I suddenly considered again how brief everything is. I'd been out to dinner with my friends to celebrate one of their birthdays. Time telegraphed back and forth in my head and I got sad thinking how ephemeral life can be. Your relationships and the things which mean so much to you are blips on the screen, brief and fleeting. It tortures me. Someone's face eventually becomes a photograph, frozen in time, telling only a fraction of the story. The dog you loved and woke to for fifteen years is long gone, along with her smell and the sensation of her fur against your cheek.

Perfume, for me, I realized, extends those blips into lifelong memories, which live on indefinitely in the mind. I only went to LA several months ago, but this weekend I smelled Chanel Cuir De Russie, which I bought there, and already it smells like that whole trip to me: the insecurities I felt showing my film for the first time, coupled with the wonder of being in that weird, magical and merciless place. Perfume brought every complicated emotion back to me with visceral economy. Nothing else has the ability to do that with such facility. Maybe it has to do with the fact that perfume itself is so complicated and hard to pin down. Perfume itself is tangled emotion and wonder, sadness and beauty and beatitude all mixed together. The smell of violets isn't simply floral but ancestral for me. Violets are my grandmother, conjuring every last detail of her memory. Fragrance has the power to bring the dead back to life. It changes things, alters the course of time, penetrates the mind and the mood.

Meeting Abigail in The Perfume Critic chat room was important for me. Starting this blog extended the conversation I began at the Perfume House in Portland, bringing it into the outside world. We talk almost every day, several times a day. We meet on the blog to share our impressions and all those complicated feelings. We share perfume and the stories behind them with each other. And all those conversations are peppered with everything else going on in our individual day to day lives. When I talked to Abigail on the phone the first time, after we'd known each other a couple of months and been blogging that time, it was like walking into the Perfume House again. I didn't want to hang up. We talked so easily, more easily than most people I've known ten times as long. The things I'd worked so hard to hide or downplay in conversation with others were matter of fact between us, and I talked like someone's hand had been muffling me all this time.

I can't imagine talking about perfume without Abigail being by my side in the discussion. Together, we've left the Perfume House and taken it out onto the street, continuing the conversation in public. Funny thing, that. Once you start talking on the street you draw others who are having their own conversations. Ours eventually started getting responses from the people reading us, and we continue (avidly) reading other people. Perfume: The Guide was indispensable. IS indispensable. Turin and Sanchez are real advocates, deepening the exchange of perfume between self and the larger world, chief proponents of the right to opinion and passion when talking about it and sharing it, defending it or dismissing it. All the reference lists on various perfume blogs were key, too. I printed them all out and carried the phone book-sized lot around with me, studying as if cramming for an exam. I wanted to know perfume inside and out. I still do. All the perfumers, all the companies, all the ingredients, accords, terms, all the history. I have the feeling there's no going back for me now, and despite all the wonderful things that have happened for me this year with my work and in my personal life, my initiation into perfume and the open embrace of that long-forbidden pleasure stands alone as a singular achievement.

Below are flashbacks from the year for me, some of the moments which come most readily to mind:

-Walking into Chanel in Beverly Hills, where the first thing I saw was a row of Les Exclusifs. I came for Cuir de Russie but they were out. I was the only one in the crowded store looking at perfume, and the sales force seemed perplexed by my insistence and questions. Wasn't there someone in my life who might like a nice quilted purse?

-Traveling across the country for work allowed me to visit perfume shops and department stores I don't have access to at home, and often I was much more preoccupied with tracking down bottles of juice than the real reason for being in town. I visited Nordstrom and Parfumerie Nasreen in Seattle, Barneys and Etro and LuckyScent in LA, Barneys in Chicago, Fena Fresh in Greece. My favorite is still the Perfume House, though it doesn't have many of the lines I look for.

-I shopped online a lot. Nothing compares to the excitement of opening a package you've been waiting for. Will it disappoint? Will it exceed expectations? I've experienced both and everything in between, from the let down of Comme des Garcons 2 Man (poor longevity) to the thrill and surprise wallop of Rien and Jasmine et Cigarettes.

-Reading the Guide for the first time made the whole world stop for me. I couldn't hear or see anything else.

-Buying every last perfume I ever smelled in my stepmother's bathroom, including all the Estee Lauders and Coco.

-The constant adjustment my sensibility has gone through regarding gender lines and designations when it comes to perfume. What once seemed unspeakably feminine to me now registers as totally androgynous. What once seemed impossibly butch is now passably femme.

-I spent all year trying to find several perfumes. I ordered Chaos for a friend when it finally came out again and was a little more affordable. In the meantime, during my search, I came across DK Signature, which caught me off guard and turned out to be one of my favorite purchases. I looked everywhere for Lancome Cuir. Even the Lancome reps seemed never to have heard of it. It finally became available on Parfum1, and I love it.

-I ended the year buying five Ava Luxe fragrances and Breath of God from B Never Too Busy to be Beautiful.

Thanks to Perfume Shrine for involving us in this project. See also:

Perfume Shrine
Ars Aromatica
A Rose Beyond the Thames
Bittergrace Notes
Grain de Musc
Legerdenez
Notes from the Ledge
Olfactarama
Savvy Thinker
The Non Blonde
Tuilleries
1000 Fragrances

Thank you for being there

I happily returned to my own home today after spending several days with relatives in my old hometown. As I looked around at my family members and old friends I realized there is one important piece of my life which they completely do not get. I keep my perfume interest (habit, obsession, whatever word works best), a secret from them. I’ve never told them I write a blog about perfume. They would think me crazy. I mean, bat shit crazy. Like many of you out there, I don’t have any blood relatives who have even the remotest interest in fragrance like I do. I’ve tried to explain The Posh Peasant to my closest aunt, and her reaction was “well, I guess everyone has their thing.” This basically means she thinks I’m bat shit. Oh, sure, I can talk about all my other hobbies and interests with my family, but not this one.

Being cooped up with people with zero interest in fragrance for a few days made me appreciate all of you so much more. It’s only been over the past 3-4 years since I became aware of basenotes, Now Smell This, Perfume of Life, MUA and many other blogs and online fragrance resources. This online perfume community makes my perfume obsession seem completely normal. If I’m candid, I must admit that finding all of you, who are just as interested/fascinated/enthralled by perfume as me, has caused me to feed the obsession even more. Yep, you’re a bunch of enablers! But, I love every moment of it. I really do. And I’m so glad you’re all here to go on this perfume journey with me.

By the way, I only took 3 bottles to Boston with me. Tom Ford Black Orchid (more about this later), Chanel No. 22 pure parfum (holiday gift to myself) and Diptyque Opone.

Reason for pic choice above: birds of a feather, flock together.

Pic is taken from Elephannie shop on Etsy

We're You're Biggest Fan: More Blogs We Award with Our Undivided Attention

Here at I Smell Therefore I Am, we often talk about our favorite blogs. Abigail and I spend hours online, not just working on this site but on most of the perfume blogs which have sailed into our orbit. Some of these are written by people we've gotten to know a little bit over the past year or so. Some respond to our posts. Some have written us personal emails. Others we've just strayed into. One thing we've noticed is how intelligent and cultured fragrance bloggers tend to be. They bring a diverse array of outside interests into their ongoing discussion of perfume. To them, talking about perfume means talking about art and literature, music, fashion, politics, social history. Reading these blogs, you learn about perfume, for sure, but also about things you might never have been exposed to. Blogging about perfume is a way to share style and tastes and a passion for things in general.

Recently, the Fragrantica Blog Awards were announced. None of the recipients were any news to us. We read them regularly, and enjoy them. But we wanted to share with you some of our own favorites, along with some exposition on why we keep going back to them. We list them in no particular order.

Nowsmellthis

This site is indispensable for anyone with more than a passing interest in perfume. People who blog know how time consuming it is. To be consistent is a challenge. To be timely, current, and endlessly stimulating, let alone informative, is near impossible. Somehow, Nowsmellthis does all of these, providing nothing short of a symposium on all things perfume. The resources offered are pretty staggering. Need to know the perfumer behind your favorite perfume? Curious what else she's done? Want to know something about that niche company whose name you can't quite remember? Nowsmellthis tells you who did it, when, what else, how, where, and everything but why. No other site is as reliable when it comes to upcoming releases, industry news, and the overall pulse of perfumery. The core review team (Robin, Angela, Kevin) issues one trustworthy, no nonsense review after another on everything from the latest to the sadly forgotten.


Peredepierre

Mark, Dane, and Thomas infuse perfume criticism with a healthy dose of wit, reviewing in concise, lucid prose perfumes which sometimes deserve only half the bother. Luca Turin says Vol de Nuit is a standard, a way to recalibrate your perfume antennae. These guys are my Vol de Nuit. They can be counted on for candor, humor, and a good laugh. When they like something, they appraise it without fawning. When they dislike it, they issue the verdict with admirable, if withering, precision. This is the only site on my radar which is posted by more than one person, all of them men. That might mean very little to you. To me, it's infinitely encouraging.

Olfactarama

I love Olfacta. Her voice is inimitable: assertive, savvy, all over the place in terms of interests, resulting in a remarkably focused read. It's a voice that reminds me of sitting down with a good friend who knows a lot more than I do. At some point you shut up and listen, figuring you'll learn more from her than vice versa. You'll only be depriving yourself of an education if you insist on running your mouth. Olfacta will talk brain chemistry, music, and art in the same breath as perfume. But don't expect insufferably high brow content. The meter dips just as often into lowbrow, with posts on Mad Men, The Banger Sisters, and recipes for mulled wine. Most blogs let you know how many visitors they've had. On the left side of her blog, Olfacta lets you know how frequently she visits everyone else, down to the day and the hour. Here's an excerpt of a review on the Comme des Garcon Incense Series:

"Zagorsk, which seems a bit contrived to me at home, makes sense in Alaska. It reminds me of the epic movie 'Dr. Zhivago,' of that scene with Omar Sharif as Zhivago and Julie Christie as Lara, swathed in fur, crossing the steppes. Zagorsk is cold and austere, full of pine, birch and cedar. It’s meant to evoke Russia. There is something melancholy about Alaska, too, though, months of nights that never end, a summer so short, and with so much work to be done. Zagorsk has the gravitas to handle such a place. Imagine how silly, how out-of-phase, some girly-girl floral would be here. Zagorsk was perfect."

Perfume-smellin Things

Along with Nowsmellthis and Scentzilla, PST was one of the first perfume blogs I ever visited. Colombina's writing is personal, detailed, and voluminous. Go ahead, type something into the search engine, the most obscure thing that comes to mind. It's almost a cinch that Columbina's been there and done that and had something compelling to report about it. Her review of Ormonde Woman is as wonderfully cerebral as its subject: "I feel uncomfortable using words like 'masculine' or 'feminine' when describing this perfume. It is beyond definitions like that. Like Lilith, this perfume is not human and requires a whole other vocabulary. My synesthesia is not enough to write a better review of Ormonde Woman. I need the gift of xenolalia." But Columbina's particular gift merges mind to libido, sensationalism to sensibility: "What I discovered when I reopened [Bal a Versailles] was a riot of sensuality, symphonies of roses and jasmine, amber, wood and spice….visions of large jungle cats mating , velvet on nakedness and a deep wet kiss in all of the right dark places , the scent of heaving cleavage!" These, reader, are from the same month. In addition to the above, Columbina is prolific.

Bois de Jasmin

Just to give you an idea of the diversity available on perfume blogs, here's a quote from BDJ's review of Ormonde Woman: "The combination of spicy vibrancy and sultry sweetness is amazing. It is an olfactory equivalent of a Bengali wedding sari—red silk, embellished with intricate gold embroidery and sumptuous golden thread. Warmth of amber provides a richly textured brocaded background to the interplay of spicy and sweet notes." Bois de Jasmin is one of the few sites I visit without any specific agenda in mind. Often I link there and read an entire page of reviews. They're informative and interesting, always thoughtful, rarely if ever dismissive.

I knew when I started this post I could never do these bloggers justice or express more then a fraction of my appreciation for what they do and how well they do it. I also knew I wouldn't be able to write about all of my favorites at once. The post would simply be too long. I'll get to some of the rest after the holidays but did want to mention some of the others, lest you think the ones I've mentioned are top priorities rather than the first I pulled off our site's blog roll. As much as I admire the informative, comprehensive tone of sites like Bois de Jasmin, Nowsmellthis, and Perfume-smellin Things, and the opinionated concision of sites like Olfactarama and Peredepierre, I'm always just as compulsively drawn to highly personal sites like Mossy Loomings, Everything is Interesting, Fragrance Bouquet, Notes from the Ledge, and Indie Perfumes, all of which detail distinctly personal experiences of perfume and life in general. I never know what these sites will talk about, but I can always count on emotionally detailed posts which are alive and open to the outside world. We'll get to them and others eventually but will be reading them religiously in the meantime. I should also point out that the single most visited site by me is basenotes, which is more like a part of my brain at this point than a website I frequent.

Dolce and Karma: The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease

Sometimes, the simplest perfumes are the most attractive to me. They don't dive deep into my skin and my imagination, charting unknown depths of sensory pleasure. They don't smell impossibly rich or impressively complicated. They don't boast a provenance tangled up in Grasse Royalty, and in fact are created by people I've never heard of, who might have worked on the last Celine Dion fragrance for all I know or care. Instead, they're unusually strong, forthright, and accessible. They state their intentions right from the start in bold, declarative language.

A good example is Coty's Exclamation. This fantastically garish rose is like a starter perfume, a back to basics beginner's floral by Sophia Grojsman, and a perfectly good illustration of the way a brilliant perfumer can work on all levels of commerce, from the niche company (100% Love) to the Prescriptives counter at the mall (Calyx) to the bargain shelf at the drugstore (Exclamation, Diamonds and Rubies).

Karma, by the Lush cosmetics company, and Dolce, by Michael Marcus cosmetics, are recent favorites. I reach for Dolce, in particular, every day, if only to smell it. One reason it gets my immediate attention, like Exclamation, is its staying power. I love L'Artisan. I love Guerlain. And if I have all day to sit on the couch and smell them, knowing they're nearby and can be reached for and renewed when they fade, I'll grab them. I'm on the couch enough, but I do have a job and get out in the world too, and though I admit I carry at least two perfumes around in my backpack, there are times when I'm not able to spritz or switch. I want something, like Dolce, which will be there two hours from now.

Dolce couldn't be less complex, though it isn't really linear, either. It starts off with the biggest blast of lavender and lavandin you've ever smelled. No graceful Pour un Homme business here, no soft bed of lavender drizzled with vanilla and doughy cake. Dolce lacks the subtlety of Pour un Homme or other lavender-inflected fragrances like, say, Cafe Noir by Ava Luxe. But it speaks very clearly and you know exactly where you stand with it. Apparently, lavandin is a hybrid of lavender officianalis and lavender aspic or spike lavender. It's heartier and grows at higher elevations. Most of the pictures you see are lavandin, or so I've read. Lavandin is much more camphorous, "louder", as one online description put it. Dolce adds to lavandin a blast of rosemary, just to make sure you know it's serious, I guess.

This initial astringency segues into a deeper, more even-keeled stage of of chocolate, vanilla and musk, but the rosemary and lavandin are in for the duration, which redeems the fragrance for me. I'm not a musk fan. Nor am I a chocolate lover. The herbal qualities of Dolce steer it just enough from gourmand overkill that you forget you're actually smelling chocolate. The pyramid on Michael Marcus' website lists geranium and orange. I'm not saying those aren't there. But who's going to notice a violin in the corner when a big band is in full swing front and center? The tune Dolce plays is catchy and upbeat, and plays indefinitely. It's an eminently likeable composition which hits all the right notes, fulfilling the simple needs we bring to an old standard. It repeats the chorus enough to satisfy.

The Marcus counter displays five perfumes. None besides Dolce particularly appealed to me, proving just how hard it is to compose that catchy tune. The others were so unmemorable that I couldn't begin to describe them to you. I smelled Dolce four times before buying it. When I did buy it I returned it a few days later. I think I did this because its appeal made no real sense to me. I think I probably returned it out of snobbery. Then again, Exclamation doesn't cost 100 bucks. What's to reconsider? All of Marcus' scents are 100 bucks for 100 ml. At the time and in theory this seemed ridiculously presumptuous of them. Yet it starts to make sense when you consider how long Dolce, at least, lasts, and how pleasing it is. I returned to the mall several times, sniffing Dolce as I passed that section of the store. Ultimately I bought it again and have enjoyed it thoroughly ever since. When I looked Michael Marcus up online I discovered he's done a lot of magazine work. It seems as if he might have made his name doing Paula Dean's make-up. For this alone he should be drawn and quartered.

Speaking of orange, there's Karma, another fragrance whose easy appeal I struggled with. Did I want it? Did I like it as much as I seemed to? How could I, when it seemed so...basic? Finally, as with Dolce, I decided that gravitating toward it again and again in the store was all the indication I needed. The decision was made the first time I sniffed it. I just chose to be in denial. Karma isn't for everyone. Like Dolce it starts out with a pretty blustery flourish. In Karma's case, that means a sunny citrus disposition, the clearest voice in the room. To some (to me, even, the first few times I smelled it) it would seem that such a clear, penetrating orange might never go away. And essentially it doesn't. It sticks around, like the lavandin in Dolce, presiding over things. But the more you smell Karma the more you recognize its subtle strategies. Karma is a catchy song played with unusual instruments, producing a curiously familiar but unusual effect.

The orange is complicated and intensified by an incense accord, pine oil, and patchouli. Lavandin makes an appearance here as well. Like Dolce, Karma lasts and lasts, playing out its song on the skin.

This Week's Random Thoughts

Tonight, I'm wearing: on one arm, Neil Morris Spectral Violet. On the other, Neil Morris Gotham and Fetish. Spectral Violet lists galbanum alongside violet, which is fine by me. I like it a lot. Fetish is nice. Gotham is interesting. I have a bag full of Morris samples. Today I organized all my testers, my odds and ends and decants. By organized I mean I took them out of the drawer they were kept in and put them in a plastic, sealable tub. I spent some time with all the Neils again, having only really smelled them once, and quickly. Previously they were pleasant enough, but something about the freezing cold brought them to life. They're unusual and compelling and I intend to wear some tomorrow. I need a full day to judge.

Also revisited: Michael Storer's Monk (which I love), and the Ava Luxe samples I own (Midnight Violet, Cafe Noir, Madame X, Milk, Oiellet Blanc, out of which I least like Milk and most like, as in can't get enough of, Cafe Noir). Earlier today I'd ordered some Ava Luxe for myself. Film Noir, Midnight Violet, Biba, Queen Bess. What is it about these small perfumers that seems even more fascinating than the Big Guys (and Girls)? Somehow, it seems even more incomprehensibly heroic, these lone men and women making perfume, without the backing of big companies or teams of decision makers. What they do seems so quiet and hopeful, shows such perseverance. The fact they have fans seems astonishing, given the noise made by bigger machinery.

Everyone's getting perfume this year. My mom, my dad, my friends, my enemies. I gave my dad Aramis. He wore it when I was growing up. He also wore Aramis 900. I think my own first fragrance was JHL. One of the firstm anyway. I hadn't smelled it since then, until a few months ago when, in a small town between here and my mother I stopped at a department store which stocked some. Verdict: It smells almost exactly like Youth Dew, and if it moves away from Youth Dew it's only to address Versailles.

My partner's co-worker is getting Lolita Lempicka. My friends are getting: Prada, Nu, Jaisalmer, and I can't say what else, in case they peruse this. Abigail's getting a whole box of perfume. I do know what I'm getting. Patou 1000 edp, Ormonde Woman, and Breath of God by B Never Too Bust To Be Beautiful. I'm thinking about nothing else the last few days. I plan to be in a mild narcotic coma induced by fragrance two days from now.

I'm finding it more of a struggle to maintain interest in people who are ambivalent about perfume. I have zero patience for those who are hostile toward it.

Why did I tell someone from out of the country I would ship things to her if she had them sent to me direct from the manufacturer? Someone please tell the person known as me I have plenty to do as it is.

Will I see Milk? Everyone's telling me to. I'm resisting. I'm sure it will be great. I'm sure it's swell. But I'm just not in the mood to watch someone's tragedy in the making. And before you revoke my card, let me point out the fact that I didn't really want to see The Passion of Joan of Arc, either, and not just because it was silent. More and more, I'm looking for opportunities to laugh.

Everyone's getting cookies, too. Otherwise, I'll eat them all.