TWRT 1.30.09

Today is my Father’s birthday – happy Birthday Dad!

There are so many mainstream department store perfumes that I mix up, confuse and barely get around to sniffing. For some reason, Marc Jacobs stuck in my mind as something I ought to try. Well, I tried MJ (the original, 2001) this week and although pleasant and perfectly enjoyable I find it fills me with a feeling of depression. Is smells barren and void of any emotion. As if the perfumer who created it didn’t put any heart and soul into the final product. I think ‘product’ is the defining word. Michael Kors, Vera Wang and Burberry also elicit these same sad feelings for me.

American Idol fans – next week the show gets better. We’ll be done with the truly ridiculous auditions.

As awful as LaVanila Vanilla Lavender was, I find myself wanting a good vanilla/lavender scent.

I love Amouage Lyric. Did I mention this? ;-)

I thought Michael C. Hall (Dexter, Six Feet Under) was gay. I was surprised to find he recently married the woman who plays his sister on Dexter (character Deb Morgan – real name Jennifer Carpenter).

LaVanila makes a wonderful lip balm/moisturizer. It’s like melting crème brulee on your lips.

This week I wore Caron Bellodgia and remembered why I love it so much. Bellodgia is the first carnation fragrance I ever sniffed and it’s still my favorite. I also love Ava Luxe Oeillets Blanc, Dawn Spencer Hurwitz Oeillet Rouge and Comme des Garcons Red Carnation. I saw Floris Malmaison on discount – is this one worth trying?

Earlier this week I bought 5 huge bouquets of Casablanca & Stargazer lilies for $10 from the supermarket. I’ve been swooning all week at the amazing aroma wafting about my house.

I had very little time to make a decent meal this week let alone anything special. I did, however, make a quick-n-easy meal discovery. I always buy a frozen pizza at Whole Foods market – just to have something when I’m desperate. I happened to have goat cheese, sundried tomatoes and roasted red peppers on hand. I sprinkled these atop the pizza and it tasted as if it was from a gourmet restaurant.

I secretly love Martha Stewart. There it’s out. I know deep inside she’s just a little Polish girl from Jersey.

I’ve been anticipating the arrival of Serge Lutens Nuit de Cellophane for over a week now. The suspense is keeeeling me.

I don’t believe in layering fragrance. I mean that in the sense of “forced layering” a la Jo Malone. Obviously I mistakenly layer perfumes all the time since I wear about 3 per day. I found the most beautiful blend this week: Serge Lutens Chergui + L’Artisan Bois Farine. I adore Chergui but there’s a tiny part of it that I find sickening. Bois Farine removes the sickening bit, lessens the sweetness and adds a doughy wheat quality that’s sheer magic.

Brian is the best – I lurve my perfume f(r)iend…(awwww)

Three for Thursday: Hampton Sun Privet Bloom; LaVanila Vanilla Lavender & Fresh Violette

Who knew? Hampton Sun’s Privet Bloom is a lovely Green (yes, green with a capital “G”) floral. I’ve been looking for a new green fragrance for the coming summer and tried Privet Bloom on a whim and am pleasantly surprised. It’s extremely green – the greenness reminds me of Diptyque’s L’Ombre dans L’eau, actually. I bought the EDP so I don’t know how the EDT compares, but the longevity and sillage are monstrous, which is a good thing in my book. Privet Bloom is a straight-forward, minimalist, true to nature scent. It literally smells like privet stems and leaves crushed between your fingers and rubbed on your skin. Privet is a shrub (bush, hedge) found growing in the Hamptons as well as many other places on the planet. Privet Bloom is almost shockingly green, with floral notes but the slight florals are discreetly seated at the back of the room. For a small perfume company hailing from New York I am duly impressed.

Longevity: excellent
Sillage: good
Rating: 4 stars

I’m an optimist when it comes to new perfume launches. I read about LaVanila’s newest Vanilla Lavender and thought that if done well – this could be a nice combination. Well, it’s not. If you want to smell true lavender blended with vanilla this is not your fragrance. It smells of vanilla blended with generic florals. It’s very sweet. I cannot smell anything resembling lavender in it. It’s a huge disappointment. Now I’m hankering for a well-done vanilla/lavender scent, do you know of any? It seems that vanilla could add just the right softness to make lavender a wearable perfume, as opposed to a home fragrance.

Longevity: longer than desired
Sillage: good
Rating: 1 star

Fresh fragrances have been hit or miss for me. Mostly, the misses are because they’re too fleeting or just boring. But I keep trying Fresh fragrances because I love the vintage inspired packaging and the product seems to be made of high quality ingredients (or so their branding makes me believe). Fresh’s Violette is a sweet, candied violet-floral that is pretty. I’m not being sarcastic; sometimes simply pretty is good and I’m finding that I like it better than Borsari’s Violetta di Parma, which has a strange plastic note on me. Truthfully, I much prefer Annick Goutal’s La Violette, within this category of simple, sweet, violet solifores but Fresh’s Violette is nice. It’s not among the listed notes but I definitely smell lilac in Violette, perhaps even more so than violet.

Longevity: good
Sillage: good
Stars: 2.75

The Importance of the Fellow Perfume F(r)iend

If you don't have a perfume buddy, a PBFF, I suggest you find one.  Most of us spend time on perfume blogs, I think, not just because we want to read up on the latest releases but to hear other people's thoughts, to derive some sense of a larger community revolving around shared interests and relentless passions.  That's one thing.  That's great.  I enjoy the comments we get on our posts, and the dialogue that opens with the outside world.  That's important.  We aren't doing this for our health.  We both have day jobs, and night jobs, and in between jobs, pets, partners, and pastimes.

But what makes this blog possible, despite all those distractions, is my friendship with Abigail, my partner in I Smell Therefore I Am, and in many respects the site is an expression of the mutual affection we feel for each other.  We email almost every day and assume something is wrong if we don't hear back.  We encourage each other, give support, listen, vent: our communications are so full of perfume chatter that an outsider might assume we have a superficial relationship, but that's just the scaffolding for a much deeper sort of bond.  When I first talked to Abigail on the phone I felt an enormous sense of relief.  I couldn't stop talking.  It was just like our emails, only more so.  Within an hour we'd covered everything from our favorite blogs and perfumes to movies and TV and our individual back stories.  Neither of us asked the other to, um, tone it down.  Neither's eyes started to glaze over after so many minutes of perfume talk.  At this point I consider Abigail one of my closest friends, and I'm not sure what the landscape of my day, let alone world, would look like without her.  I'm telling you, you need this kind of friend.

Plus, you get gifts in the mail.  I just got one today.  Yet another one, I should say.  What is it about perfume lovers?  We have to share.  We want you to smell what we're talking about.  And here's the thing: we spend so much time being disappointed with the people closest to us for not engaging with perfume, not getting it, not appreciating it, not trying to pin it down or run off on imaginative emotional tangents with it.  To find someone who loves it as much as you do is one of the most extraordinary things.  You want to trade secrets, introduce your loves to their loves.  You know how it feels to exist in a day to day world where no one really goes ga ga over perfume.  Having a friend like Abigail means being able to fly that freak flag, non stop, full throttle, 24/7.   It also means you have a sense, an empathy, for the dreariness of that other world, that day to day where people are perfectly happy smelling like nothing in particular, deadening themselves to the world of smell.  You know what I'm talking about: I'm talking about the way people act when you walk into the room smelling of perfume.  It's as if you've come in with a gun, more often than not.  Receiving a perfume gift in the mail is indescribably blissful, an antidote to that squalid state of affairs.

Find someone you like on a blog.  Abigail and I met on The Perfume Critic, in the chat room.  It happens.  Find yourself this kind of friend.  The rewards will make it worth your time and effort.  Plus--another plus--you will find out about fantastic perfumes you've never heard of.  Abigail introduced me to Ava Luxe, Liz Zorn, and so many others I can't count.  And on some days I think I probably couldn't live without Ava Luxe's Cafe Noir and Midnight Violet.  Not that I'm dramatic or anything.  Oh, nevermind.  Abigail understands.

Kenzo Kashaya: The Sensual World

Kenzo Kashaya was created by Sophia Grojsman in 1994--the same year Cashmere Mist, Havana, G Gigli, Jaipur, CK One, and Iris Silver Mist came out.  It comes in a carnival glass bottle shaped in leaf-like abstractions.  Osmoz classifies the fragrance as Oriental - Floral.  Like all of Grojsman's work, Kashaya is powerful, with impressive if not potentially assaultive sillage and persistence which seems equally tenacious.

Like the bottle, which reflects red, orange, yellow, and fuschia in different combinations, depending on how the light hits it, Kashaya reflects and recalls various characteristics of Grojsman's well known oeuvre.  You can smell everything from Spellbound to Diamonds and Rubies in there, and at first you might even mistake it, as some online have, for Lagerfeld's Sun Moon Stars, which was released a year earlier.  Aside from sharing some inarticulate, decidely Grojsman-esque quality, the two have very little in common.  In fact, Kashaya seems unique for the perfumer, conveying a mood very specific to orientals, a category she hasn't exactly made a name for herself in, aside from random entries here and there, like Tentations, for Paloma Picasso.  Kashaya is less floral than many of Grojsman's fragrances (see Paris, Calyx, Yvresse, Boucheron) and not nearly as spicy (see Tentations and Spellbound).  It has a pronounced, stealthy vanilla accord and a curious mellowness to it, whereas other Grojsman creations persist in a vibrant state of excitement on the skin for hours, thrilled to be there.

For whatever reason, when I go to my perfume cabinet, the things I reach for most often seem to be Grojsman's perfumes.  People detest Spellbound (Oh the clove, the clove!) and yet I grab it even more frequently than the others.  I believe some of this, or a lot of this, has to do with the immediate gratification offered by Grojsman's work.  The very things people complain about (the strength, the projection, et al.) are the things which attract me the most.  Perfumers, like most artists, are eventually referred to with a marketable shorthand.  For the most part, they're much more complicated than the tags applied to them.  Grojsman's reputation is as a sensualist, and she's of course much more too, but there's a lot of truth there; putting Paris up to your nose is indescribably intense.  Yvress is just about the loveliest, most succulent perfume I own.  And Spellbound, as much as it's derided, is shot full of sensual pleasures (and how, which seems to be the problem for some).  It comes down to this for me: these perfumes have openly narcotic properties.

Kashaya is as intensely pleasurable as anything Grojsman's done, and lives uniquely on the skin.    Don't misunderstand: the florals are there, but they're integrated differently than in the compositions where they take or demand center stage.  Those florals are, specifically, jasmine, orchid, tuberose, and carnation (that old Grojsman reliable).  They're laid out against sandalwood, musk, vanilla, and amber in a way which takes them in uncharacteristic directions, playing up different aspects of the Grojsman artistic project.  Personally, I think Kashaya makes a good masculine, but I wear Paris, Yvresse, and Calyx without complication or inhibition, troubling myself not one second over whether or not this "seems" appropriate or can be "justified" theoretically in some way.  Unlike Tentations, Kashaya is still petty easy to find online, and affordable.  It comes in EDT, which lasts just fine.  I always thought EDP was sort of overkill when it comes to Sophia Grojsman.  It's like picturing Picasso's cubist work done in day-glo, neon paint.

Amouage Lyric Woman: A Review

Amouage Lyric Woman is stunning. I say this after being disappointed by Amouage Jubilation 25 and Amouage Dia. (I have yet to try Gold, but I will, soon).

The Amouage perfume house seems to have plenty of funds for high quality ingredients. While I did not personally like Jubilation 25 or Dia this is not to say that these two perfumes smelled anything but opulent – they were excessively opulent and rich for my taste. Lyric is much easier to wear and yet so incredibly gorgeous.

Amouage describes Lyric:

“Beyond the transient beauty and purity of Lyric lingers a poignant song without a beginning and an end. Inspired by the rose, Lyric is a floral oriental fragrance suspended in time with a mythical melody.”

Amouage Lyric is described by many as a dark, spicy rose fragrance. Perhaps I’m familiar with a great deal of very dark and spicy perfumes but I find Lyric only mildly dark and spicy. Lyric is meant to be inspired by rose, but the rose note is never particularly dominant, in fact, even if you don’t like rose fragrances, you could easily love Lyric. Lyric begins as a softly powdery rose – but not powdery like baby powder – more accurately a dusting of powder created with finely ground spices such as cardamom, ginger and cinnamon with a just a hint of fruit. At the start, the scent of red velvety roses are present along with an intoxicating aroma of deep red wine. The deep velvety red roses and wine are paired a slight greenish herbal whiff perfectly balancing the spicy-incense quality with just enough freshness.

Once Lyric settles in, after about an hour or more, the rose note moves to the background and I smell mostly red wine and soft spices. From this point on I’m utterly smitten with Lyric. It becomes a meditation on spices, soft woods and frankincense. Frankincense, in particular, is the dominant aroma upon dry down and it is just g-g-g-gorgeous. I reviewed Amouage’s official website where they have a blurb about frankincense and how valuable it’s been through history. Apparently, the most prized, sought after and high quality frankincense is found in Oman, where the Amouage perfume house is located. The frankincense from Oman is said to be "...the purest kind, bright white in colour.” In fact, the chosen spices give Lyric a decidedly Middle Eastern quality, different from the usual oriental spice theme.

I think Amouage Lyric is without a doubt a modern classic. It certainly gives a nod to all-time greats such as Guerlain and it is sophisticated and stunning.

Top notes: Bergamot, Spicy Cardamom, Cinnamon, Ginger
Heart notes: Rose, Angelica, Jasmine, Ylang-Ylang, Geramnium, Orris
Base notes: Oakmoss, Musk, Wood, Patchouli, Vetiver, Sandalwood, Vanilla, Tonka Bean, Frankincense

Longevity: Excellent
Sillage: Good, soft but present
Rating: 5 Stars

Alain Delon's Iquitos

There's a certain logic, if not sense, to the complicated but efficient machinery behind most celebrity fragrances. After the marketing department finishes, Curious or Midnight Fantasy become, somewhere in the imaginations of their consumers, bottled essence of Britney Spears. Deseo and J-lo Glo are thought to embody the allegedly tempestuous spirit of their iconic Latina-American reason for being, as if containing something like civet oil, scraped from the mystery regions of the legendarily ample derriere la Lopez. Mariah Carey is a butterfly, slightly cheap, like the one adorning the bottle of "M". Lovely, at least, is true to its name, trading on Sarah Jessica Parker's racy Sex and the City character, Carrie Bradshaw, without sacrificing the well-intentioned, old fashioned earnestness which is believed to characterize Parker's offscreen persona.

As far as purity of intent, Alain Delon has more in common with Parker than, say, Celine Dion. His star, especially in France, shines brightly, and in fact he still releases fragrances for men and women, but his earliest efforts, much admired and in a few cases obsessively collected ("guilty"), have been discontinued. Unlike most every celebrity fragrance you can think of, Iquitos (1985), one of Delon's best, would appear to be completely antithetical in almost every conceivable way with the star's popular image.

Early on, he specialized in arrogant hubris. In Purple Noon, he became the first, mostly shirtless cinematic iteration of Patricia Highsmith's Tom Ripley. For Visconti, he played one of Rocco and His Brothers. A self-absorbed twenty-something opposite blank-faced Monica Vitti in Antonioni's The Eclipse, he was visibly contemptuous of her extravagantly placid angst, though without bothering to raise an eyebrow himself. Vitti was a static presence, idling through the movie as if slumped on a conveyor belt before rear screen projection. Delon, though expressively minimalist, was gymnastically cagey, impatient for action, opportunity, sexual intercourse, or whatever else came lumbering into his orbit. Tanned to a color home product catalogues might christen Smoldered Coco, surly in a way only the French have mastered, he exuded a chilling, cryptic moral ambivalence you felt uncomfortable finding yourself attracted to. Later, he played cops and gangsters, expressionless, callous killers in French neo-noirs like Flic Story, Le Cercle Rouge, and Le Samourai.

Where Delon was known for brooding tough guys, sleek like a cat but tortured, perverse and emotionally precarious, Iquitos, go figure, is forcefully lush and unequivocally androgynous, so uncomplicated about itself and its intentions that you assume it must be what it initially seems to be, a routine, straightforward variation of rose. It isn't--anymore than Delon was a typical matinee idol. In his prime, he was once called the male Brigitte Bardot--and not for any lisping hints of femininity. His charisma, conflating the gendered codes of sexual appeal, bridged the male/female divide, as does Iquitos. More aptly, he made the male in you feel like having sex with your female side, leaving you to watch like a panting voyeur. Surely many men wanted to be Alain Delon, if only to experience what it would be like to be that beautiful. IN a way, Iquitos provides this opportunity.

Iquitos opens big with cardamom and ginger. Not many fragrances can pull off the latter, and stumble through the attempt like a girl in her mother's high heels. Not so Iquitos, which walks a straight line in them (and in a suit!). There are green and citrus notes as well, and a breathtakingly pretty jasmine. The greens (most noticeably, vetiver) are packed down in damp soil. Aldehydes lend a projectile dimensionality to the rose. Patchouli darkens it, giving it a slightly grungy, woody aspect, a moodiness. This rose has a fair amount of stealth to it, growing earthier and denser as it dries down into its sandalwood, civet and leather foundation.

Rumors has it that Marc Buxton, the perfumer responsible for many of the Comme des Garçons fragrances which established that line's reputation, created Iquitos. It's a compelling theory, especially in light of Jil Sander's Scent 79 Man, another Buxton creation, released in 2008. 79 shares with Iquitos a certain quiet but robust formal elegance, balancing woody with floral in a way Buxton has made his own. Many imitate the effect. Few improve upon it. Add to this the fact that Buxton is known to have composed at least one other Delon fragrance, Delon Pour Homme.

Iquitos is a fantastic masculine which gives new meaning to the term, tossing the letters around. From masculine to..."lean music"? Or "lace in sum", perhaps. It was discontinued and is increasingly harder to find, so I'm relieved to own two bottles. It's an uncommonly brooding, intensely unique fragrance which would make perfect sense on either gender. And it lasts.

Guerlain Vol de Nuit

Most of us dislike the term, but I do understand what people mean when they describe a perfume as smelling “old lady-ish.” Given that the classic Guerlains were created in the early 1900’s, you would think these would smell especially dated. Just look at these launch dates:

Jicky, 1889
Apres L’Ondee, 1906
L’Heure Bleue, 1912
Mitsouko, 1919
Shalimar, 1925
Vol de Nuit, 1933

When someone calls a fragrance “old lady-ish,” I assume they mean that the scent is heavy, synthetic, suffocating and has the “brick wall effect,” which means you feel as if your nose hits a brick wall when smelling it. Amouage Jubilation 25 is like this for me. Jubilation 25 is a brick wall that I can’t smell through, or relax around; it’s overwhelming, and it definitely seems dated as if it were created in 1889, when it was, in fact, launched in 2007.

Somehow Guerlain has managed to create timeless fragrances. I can’t imagine a world where women and men don’t wear Mitsouko or Shalimar. Of course I have never smelled the original 1925 version of Shalimar, so I don’t know what Guerlain has done over the years to update their fragrances and conform to new regulations, perhaps this is where their genius lies?

Of the fragrances listed above the only one that smells dated to me is Apres L’Ondee. I know I’m an utter philistine, everyone adores Apres L’Ondee, but it gives me the creeps. Apres L’Ondee calls to mind a funeral viewing inside a spooky old mansion. Yes, a room with a casket and a body with family paying their respects. But aside from this one, I find all the classic Guerlains so easy to wear, so completely not dated.

Vol de Nuit is easy identified as being Guerlain, in that it shares that smooth spicy-ambery-vanillic base once it’s dried down. I love the way Vol de Nuit starts off – it’s a blast of citrusy oakmoss that takes no prisoners. Like nearly all the Guerlain fragrances I have, I love the way these classics skirt the very brink of daring for some time but then come swirling back to this smooth and socially acceptable Guerlain base. Vol de Nuit is quite daring at the start. The first 15 minutes are what some would call “old lady-ish” but I’ve grown to love this part just as much as the dry down.

Perfumes have personality, and Vol de Nuit has a clearly marked one.
Vol de Nuit, as a person, exhibits a cool strength and daring confidence. She has clarity of vision and strong motivation to do whatever it takes to be great, to succeed.

On Basenotes, it says, Vol de Nuit was created as “a tribute to women who like to take risks.” It really does smell like this.

Guerlain Shalimar

There weren’t any members of my immediate family growing up who wore perfume. I don’t have memories of my mother’s fragrance wafting about the rooms or recall the scent of my grandmother. Finally, by the time I was a young adult, there were additions to my family, and these women wore perfume. Two of my uncles got married and these new aunts liked fragrance. Then one of my college friends also liked perfume and wore it every day. The commonality for all of these women is that they have one signature scent that they adore and will wear for the rest of their lives. All three of these women wear Shalimar and only Shalimar. They are devoted to Shalimar as if they’re married to it. And, I believe all three wear only the pure parfum.

Because I know and love all of these women I have a good association with the fragrance. I never wore Shalimar because it seemed to be “their” perfume, not mine, and I never felt allowed to wear it, at least not in their presence. So for many years, I secretly coveted the ability to wear Shalimar. About five years ago I moved to another state. I don’t see my aunts or my college friend but maybe once or twice per year now. We talk, we email, we stay in touch, but we see each other less. One of the first things I did once I realized I could was to buy Shalimar for myself. Even now, after several years have passed, I feel as if I’m sneaking around when I wear it.

I love the smell of Shalimar but usually find it a little too heavy and sexy for day-time wear. Recently I’ve found that Shalimar shower gel followed with the body lotion is absolutely perfect. I might also use one spritz of the perfume on my wrist just so I can smell it when I want.

I’ll never feel like Shalimar is my scent, but I love it nonetheless. I might love it even more since it’s a forbidden fruit for me. There is something about that mysteriously beautiful bottle that’s so magical and alluring. And, perhaps it’s only because of my experience with Shalimar, but it seems to be an only child. Shalimar looks perfect as the sole perfume on the bureau of a woman who adores it. It doesn’t seem right when Shalimar is grouped in a large collection. Shalimar is meant to be a monogamous scent, a scent for the devoted.

This Week at the Perfume Counter

I haven't been reporting from the perfume counter much lately because almost all of my purchases were made online.  I got sick of the hassle--and it is a hassle, the retail environment, even under the best of circumstances (friendly, informed staff, accessible testers, et al).  Ultimately I don't want anyone, even someone I like, hovering around me when I look for perfume.  I'm self conscious and need time to myself.

Then I wanted Fendi Asja, because it was made by Jean Guichard (Eden, Loulou, La Nuit) and I'd read about it somewhere, and I remembered seeing it at the local Korean discount perfume shop, and why bother sending off for it when I could drive across town and within a half hour have it in my sweaty little paws?

This prompted further ventures into the perfume marketplace.  I hadn't been to the Russian Kiosk in months, after the woman who works there seemed to have been insinuating, last time, that I'd somehow swindled them by trading my bottles of Gucci Nobile, Le Feu D'Issey, La Nuit, and other rarities for their moderately priced, widely available perfumes, when I'd only paid between 25 and 35 dollars a pop.  This greatly offended me, as I knew what I was selling them was valuable and rare (unlike some of the stuff they've tried to tell me is no longer possible to find, even when I know otherwise, having seen it upstairs at Perfumania and been born further back than yesterday) and because my selling them something at mark-up was no different than them doing the same to me, and what I was selling them was actually quite valuable and will make them quite a little chunk of cheese, whereas there are only so many people I can pawn off a bottle of Gucci Rush on as if it's a hard to find elixir.  Still with me?  I'm sure, if you spend any amount of time shopping retail for perfume, the tone of this rant is a familiar one to you.

There was a new guy behind the counter.  Where do all these Russians come from?  He was just as pushy and wanted to tell me what I wanted.  I very quickly disobliged him of the idea he would be able to piss on my leg and tell me it was raining.  I was happy I braved the annoyance of a drop-in, though, because they had Paloma Picasso's Tentations, created by Sophia Grosjman.  Two bottles.  I did that thing where I panicked for a small moment, thinking I should buy them both, because what if these were the last bottles on Earth?  Then I got over it and moved on.

I returned to the Korean store the following week, buying another Guichard perfume, Cartier's So Pretty.  If you haven't tried it you might consider it.  I love it.  It's a fruity floral, to be sure, but rich and decadent.  I think Tania Sanchez was spot on when she called it a Mitousko with Creme de Cassis.  It feels like an older perfume.  It isn't shot through with that "radiance" which gives so many modern fruity florals no legs to stand on.  To my nose, that radiance usually involves an anemic transparency.  Not so with So Pretty, which is like falling into plush upholstery.  It's a deep, dark smell with a lightning bright touch of fruit.

I also got Grosjman's Kashaya, done for Kenzo.  When I first started collecting perfume I never thought I'd eventually own as many Kenzo perfumes as I do.  Ca Sent Beau, Jungle Homme, Jungle Elephant, Flower, Amour.  I own and like them all, and Kashaya is yet another surprise.  Someone on basenotes.net felt very smart for revealing the true identity of Kashaya: it's Sun Moon Stars, by Lagerfeld, thinly disguised.  Having spent time with both, I fail to see this supposedly striking similarity.  Kashaya is unmistakably Grosjman, but I'm unaware of anything in her oeuvre that smells quite like it.  Initial application indicates more floral than oriental, but the heart and the dry down are resolutely the latter, with what seems like the perfumer's trademark carnation augmented with sandalwood, amber, vanilla, and musk.  It wears beautifully and comes, if you can find it, in a carnival glass, leaf-patterned bottle.

The Korean store had Valentino Vendetta by Edouard Flechier, Rykiel Homme, and Sander for Men by Jacques Cavallier, all of which I nabbed.  Vendetta is a spicy masculine, with lavender and clove.  I'd heard it doesn't last long, but it lasts well on me.  Rykiel Homme is an unusual thing, fruity and candied and woodsy all at once, and so well balanced that you can't accuse it of erring on the side of any of those things.  I find it pretty addictive and I'm eager to try Rykiel Grey (also Flechier).  Sander is said by Luca Turin to be slightly cold, merciless.  I'm impressed by it myself.  Don't expect a break with tradition.  Sander smells decidedly conventional, yet better than most of the stock at Sephora.

At Ike's, a little discount drugstore here, I've found many good things (Kingdom, Cinema, Opium EDP), and a few months ago they put everything they had on sale, fifty percent off.  You can imagine the damage this did to my pocketbook.  I'd always wanted Polo but not enough to splurge fifty bucks.  25, no problem.  And so on.  As far as I knew there were two Ike's in town and I'd cleaned both out.  Imagine my elation when, yesterday, driving off the beaten path, I saw another location.  It was as if a window in time had opened up, revealing entirely unknown territory.  I bought the following: very rare original formula Montana Perfume at 10 dollars, and Laura Biagiotti Venezia, at 22.  Venezia is an unusual floriental, not resinous at all like Opium and Cinnabar and Coco.  At some point I might write about it, once I spend more time with it.  It wears like a dream and I can see why people still look for it.

In a few weeks I go to Portland, for a return visit to the Perfume House.  I already called to see if they have the hard to find, discontinued Ferre de Ferre.  They do, one bottle, and are holding it for me.  Ferre is what I consider a violet aldehyde, with influences of incense and spice and other faint florals.  The top notes aren't so distinguished but the whole thing mellows into the most intoxicating, distinctive blend.  It will be nice to revisit the Perfume House, having learned so much since the first time.

TWRT 1.23.09

This week was really cold – perhaps that’s why I was into big powerful fragrances (Insolence EDP, Alien, Joy).

Today I’m wearing Calypso Mimosa. This is supposed to be their signature scent. It’s entirely underwhelming so if this is their best work I’m not impressed with Calypso at all.

Hermes Apres La Mousson is growing on me even more. If you like vetiver and cool spices (and aren’t turned off by a slight melon note) give this a try. It seems perfect for hot summer days.

I’m a devoted fan of American Idol but I hate this stage where they show only the most ridiculously awful auditions.

I made chocolate chip cookies this week from scratch. I followed the recipe on the back of the Nestle semi-sweet chocolate chips bag. I was plum out of vanilla extract so I used almond extract in desperation. They were even better this way.

Serge Lutens Nuits de Cellophane is on its way to me. Additional unsniffed purchases will be Annick Goutal Un Matin d’Orage and Prada Infusion de Fleur d’Oranger. I’m just keepin’ it real; I know I’ll buy these unsniffed.

I saw a film called Taken with Liam Neeson. It was an excellent thriller. I saw it without any preconceptions and was pleasantly surprised.

I’ve figured out how to purchase more perfume. Since January 1st I’ve stopped buying breakfast and lunch during the work week. I make coffee at home and eat a breakfast bar in the morning and make my lunch. I will save approximately $300 per month by doing this. It’s a pretty painless way to afford more fun stuff.

There are several boxes waiting for me at home (proof of my savings on breakfast and lunch so far this month!) which I can’t wait to go home and sample all at once.

Oh, and I like the new judge on American Idol. She looks a bit like Katherine McPhee.

Have a fragrant weekend everyone.