Annick Goutal Heure Exquise: A Rare Beauty

Day 3 of Annick Goutal Week
Heure Exquise is a rare beauty. I have worn Heure Exquise for years, to the point that I must take it for granted, because I don’t think about it or mention it near enough.

Heure Exquise was created by Isabella Doyen in collaboration with the late Annick Goutal herself and launched in 1984. In case anyone reading this doesn’t already know the story of Annick Goutal, she was originally a prizewinning pianist and model who became a self taught perfumer later in life. She unfortunately passed away in 1999, but her daughter, Camille Goutal, has taken the reigns of the company. To me, one of the best aspects of Annick Goutal, as a company, is that it stands alone, does not answer to any gigantic corporation, and therefore is able to maintain it’s products and brand identity as the owner deems fit. Since the passing of Annick Goutal herself I think Camille has taken the house in a slightly edgier direction, which for me, is wonderful. I see this as a natural, organic evolution of a brand and the quality of Annick Goutal products has remained consistently exceptional.

Heure Exquise is oftentimes compared with Chanel No. 19 and Hermes Hiris. The comparisons are apt only during the first 5 minutes of spraying. Similar to No. 19 and Hiris, Heure Exquise begins as a cool green aldehydic fragrance with iris and rose. I understand the comparison with Hiris but I see it mostly on paper, because Heure Exquise, in practice, is much less cold and rooty and more of a proper perfume, where I find Hiris to be an exercise in aromachemicals. Once Heure Exquise dries down, I don’t find much similarity with No. 19. In fact, the perfume it most resembles in style is Caron Parfum Sacre and while I enjoy Parfum Sacre, Heure Exquise is still more beautiful.

Heure Exquise begins and ends quite differently. It starts off aldehydic and green and very quickly turns into a gentle rose with iris and orris root powdering things up. Heure Exquise is a smidgen spicy and woody, however, the overall effect is a smooth gentle caress. The rose is ever so soft and nary a sharp angle in sight. It suddenly occurs to me that as much as I like Frederic Malle’s Iris Poudre, Heure Exquise trumps it on all accounts. The mysore sandalwood in the far dry down of Heure Exquise is quite simply exquisite.

Heure Exquise translates to “exceptional hour” in English so it’s meant to capture a similar time of day as Guerlain’s L’Heure Bleue; the sunset hour, twilight, just before darkness. The fragrance conjures classically styled perfumes and therefore a nostalgic and graceful impression is created.

I’ve always worn Heure Exquise in EDT but just realized it also comes in EDP. I would like to get the EDP soon so I can compare, plus another bottle of Heure Exquise will never go to waste.

Annick Goutal Songes: A Classic

This is Day 2 in my week-long tribute to Annick Goutal

Annick Goutal Songes is perhaps the sultriest, sweetest, straight-up diva of all the Annick Goutal fragrances. Songes is a heady white floral with prominent notes of frangipani, tiare, ylang-ylang and jasmine. Yet it also has woods and dryness in its base, tempering a potentially over-the-top floral. Essentially, Songes is a classy exotic island scent.

A fairly recent review of Songes on Grain de Musc put me back in touch with it and the realization that it’s one of my favorite fragrances. Denyse really nails it with the idea of Annick Goutal fragrances falling into three categories, the “mama," “papa," and “daughter” scents. I love the idea of Songes being the hip-swaying “yummy mummy.”

Songes is offered in an edt and edp and these concentrations are relatively different. The eau de toilette is all about lush white florals and it’s less sweet while the eau de parfum is a lush white floral dipped in vanilla that just about oozes sensuality. I love both concentrations but prefer the edp. I was surprised when I realized tuberose isn’t listed amongst the notes because I’ve always thought of Songes as a tuberose heavy fragrance. Songes is so creamy and thick (and I don’t mean thick as in cloying, I simply mean it’s dense, languid and almost murky, and these adjectives are meant positively). While Songes begins assertively she dries down to an easy-to-wear floral with hints of dry vanilla and some woods. If you have never sniffed Songes, my description might seem schizophrenic, by calling it dense, languid and murky yet at the same time easy-to-wear and a bit dry. This is the beauty of Annick Goutal and why I think AG is special as a perfume house - you truly have to wear Annick Goutal fragrances to understand them. I can’t think of any which can be judged from a few dabs from a sample vial. If you don’t give Songes a few big sprays and a full day’s wearing – you’d probably just think it’s a sweet white floral and miss the point entirely. Once the first 20 minutes pass, Songes is a muted floral, both exotic and demure.

Songes is an absolutely succulent potion with no rivals. I think of it as a classic up there with all the greats.

Full list of notes: frangipani, tiare, jasmine notes, incense, vanilla, copahu balm, pepper, ylang-ylang absolute, vetiver, sandalwood, amber and styrax

[I have been eyeing the above limited edition baccarat Moon bottle for years. Anyone have a spare $1,250 they wouldn’t miss?!]

Annick Goutal Un Matin d'Orage: Revisted

This kicks off my week-long tribute to the House of Annick Goutal ~ DAY 1

I already reviewed Un Matin d’Orage (UMdO) last year but this was back when I’d worn it only about 3 times (3 full days). Now a year has passed and I’ve worn UMdO several more times and I must say it’s a glorious fragrance.

I had it right in my first review, that UMdO is about wetness and warmth rising from soil. I find it odd that people can take away dryer sheets from this but our perspectives are so different. To me, this is the exact opposite of anything synthetic and reminiscent of dryer sheets. It’s so real, natural, clean (yes, soil can smell clean) and pristine. I absolutely adore the effect of damp soil and stones. And, just like the marketing copy suggests, this is a Japanese garden, it’s minimalist, delicate and perfectly balanced. Unlike the marketing copy I don’t think UMdO smells of heat and humidity but more along the lines of a temperate day; a cool morning with a slightly warm, breezy and comfortable day ahead.

Doyen does a marvelous job capturing the sweetness of gardenia but she avoids over-the-top sweetness with the addition of magnolia and champaca. There is a crisp freshness to this gardenia accord and it is divine. Un Matin d’Orage is aquatic but this is “just after the thunderstorm” aquatic and not merely the suggestion of water. I can scarcely think of another fragrance where the aquatic nature is rendered so beautifully. Hermes Apres La Mousson has an aquatic nature but here it is blended with swampy vetiver and fruits. Un Matin d’Orage showcases a garden of dewy gardenia, jasmine and magnolia against a backdrop of wet stones and soil. Stunning.

I don’t often like fragrances which evoke melancholy or somber moods but UMdO gives me a wistful feeling that I quite like. There’s something reflective, quiet, solitary and thoughtful about UMdO and for a change I enjoy this quality.

Un Matin d’Orage is one of Annick Goutals more unusual, edgy and certainly not-for-mainstream-tastes fragrances. I looked around at other reviews and noticed reactions differ a great deal.

For reference, here’s the marketing copy from Annick Goutal:

Imagine yourself in a Japanese garden – a family garden, surrounded by dozens of delicate trees, grapefruit and hundreds of bushes of gardenias. It’s early morning, the day after a thunderstorm. Imagine the drops of the rain on the leaves with the sun breaking through the cloud. The scent of the white gardenia is strong. With the humidity and heat, the scent emanates from the ground.

PS: While I'm becoming a collector of Annick Goutal Limited Edition bottles, there is something about this butterfly bottle I just don't like. I don't think the frosted white color is as lovely as others I've seen. But I still like all the AG butterfly bottles in general, I just don't need this one ;)

TWRT 1.29.10

Beverage of the week: Schweppe’s Dry Grape Ginger Ale. OhMyGod so good!

Favorite person of the week: Brian, my co-blogger. Brian rules. Among other things he found and gifted me my new favorite linden fragrance. It's Bond No. 9 Eau de Noho (not Nuits de Noho). I had never heard of this before and it’s the most breathtakingly lovely linden perfume. It’s tenacious, too, something I have never found in a light & fresh linden fragrance before. Even if you aren’t crazy for linden like I am, you might give this a try if you’re looking for a fresh, green, floral for warm weather.

Brian and I split a bottle of Histoires de Parfums Tubereuse L’Animale. He just received it today. He loves it! Now I can say how much I love it’s ripe, murky, powdery, floralcy (where did I get ‘floralcy?’ was it NST commenters?). I find Tubereuse L’Animale wonderfully unique – a sweet, tobacco, hay, tuberose that’s to die for. I don’t detect much straight up leather but it’s certainly there doing something to everything else (!).

Confession: I love DK Cashmere Mist body wash and lotion. The fragrance is boring but the wash and lotion are fab for my hands. In fact, I got the Luxe (edp) edition of Cashmere Mist and these items were included as freebies. I might buy some when I run out.

I have 3 of the Van Cleef & Arpels Collection Extraordinaire and I really don’t get the hoopla. Gardenia Petale is nice. Orchidee Vanille is a sweet vanilla and Bois d’Iris is too sweet and smells of toner/ink. “Nice” means simply pleasant, agreeable, and not bad but surely doesn’t mean anything great to me.

A Scent, by Issey Miyake is surprisingly terrific. I love the galbanum burst and the mossy greenness throughout. It lasts, too. It reminds me slightly of Liz Zorn’s Green Oakmoss (Soivohle’)Above pic are my current favorite earrings. I bought these for myself as a holiday gift. I absolutely love this shop on etsy, called The Jewelry Bar. Their prices are so reasonable and the jewelry looks just as pretty once received.

I’ve noticed I tend to have the same taste in fragrance as The Non-Blonde. So she mentioned that Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Ylang & Vanille was good so I promptly bought some. It is good. I really like it and it’s actually a nice warm floral for winter, even though it’s light. Although, I can’t help but want to don a perfumer’s hat and blend in a little heliotrope and mimosa. That would be a sublime fragrance, prominent notes of ylang, mimosa, heliotrope and vanilla. Is there anything out there like this? Fluffy, sweet, delicate with a twinge of green.

I've been collecting the Annick Goutal limited edition butterfly bottles lately. I have a few beauties - some are hand painted. My favorite is Ambre Fetiche. But, I just want to shout out to Annick Goutal and ask why she doesn't create more limited edition flacons, perhaps for more of her scents. I can imagine a beautiful one for La Violette.

Have a great weekend everyone!

Christian Dior Diorama (reissue)

Some important questions: Where has Diorama been all my life? How is it that it’s taken me this long to procure a bottle?

I have never smelled vintage Diorama. I’m afraid to look for it now. I’m in love with reissued Diorama, and feel the need to wear Diorama and only Diorama for awhile to make up for lost time.

Diorama reminds me of Frederic Malle Le Parfum de Therese (also created by Roudnitska), which I smelled first and fell in love with first. Diorama and Therese seem to be very close sisters, with Diorama outdoing Therese in the sillage and longevity department and also not showcasing any aqueous nature. To me, Diorama is a classic fruity floral, but it appears to be categorized by the experts as a fruit chypre. I’ve read there are base notes of vetiver, oakmoss, civet and patchouli but these are not discernable for me, not until the way dry down. Fruits and white florals are showcased here; it’s all about melon, plum and peach with jasmine, tuberose and very soft spices if you’re looking for them. Perhaps it is because of this fruity quality, with fruity floral fragrances being an enormous trend of the past decade, which makes Diorama seem completely modern to me. I thought the same thing when I first smelled Therese; it seemed strange that Therese was created decades ago, because any sort of fruitiness seems modern. Maybe it’s just my own perception but mossy chypres and powdery scents seem old fashioned, while fruity fragrances do not. The fruity quality in Diorama is light, bright, effervescent and blended with white florals and soft spices. There’s also some similarity to YSL Yvresse, which is another sparkling and classic fruity scent worth checking out.

I’ve read several reviews which describe Diorama as buttery. Oddly, Diorama is the opposite for me, it starts off rather sharp and only in the way dry down would I describe it as buttery. One spice I notice is saffron. I have no idea if saffron is among the listed notes, but I dig saffron and it works like magic here.

Coming of age in the 80’s I have the tendency to prefer big fragrances. Diorama isn’t crazy big, but it’s big enough to please me (smirks at perverseness of this sentence). I’m of the thinking that good sillage and longevity mean I’m getting my money’s worth. For those who read ISTIA regularly, you won’t need to ‘spray yourself wet’ with Diorama (smirking, again, what’s with the perverted minds?!).

I read a few reviews on other perfume blogs before writing my own and realized I have a very different experience with Diorama. Diorama doesn’t make me recall Paris or women in fur, pearls, diamonds and couture evening gowns. Instead Diorama smells youthful, gregarious, brimming with a zest and zeal for life. Diorama smells like the study of nature on an early spring day. The essence of Diorama is a verb; it’s budding, growing, juicy and bursting forth with fresh natural vapors and dewy realism.

Notes are listed as: melon, peach, plum, jasmine, rose and tuberose.

Aziyade

While not so surprised that I like it, I am surprised how little Aziyade reminds me of the things I'm told it should. What's not to like? Are there many who don't like Serge Lutens' Arabie? I don't know many of them. It's likable, too. It smells to me of dates marinated in various resins, and Aziyade has some of those fruity woody aspects too. As do Kenzo Elephant and Feminite du Bois. But Aziyade has so many peculiar qualities those don't that I'm not sure I would have made the connection on my own. For me, likability is about the biggest thing they have in common.

I made a comment the other day, talking about Noix De Tuberose, that tuberose fragrances often seem very similar, with only very fine distinctions. I see the school of thought which places Aziyade among the sugared fruits and woods of the perfume world, but it has such a nice, tart angle, with some leather and terpenoids going on in there too. I get some pine, though it isn't listed. I think this might be ginger, which is. None of the notes come as a shock to me. Yes, okay, there are those crystallized dates and prunes, but they're more of a backdrop. Orange is a big player here, adding to that terpenoid zing. Pomegranate, a cameo. The ginger, almond, cardamom, cinnamon, cumin, carob and ciste season the mix in a way which feels uniquely spicy. Aziyade isn't a cold smell, it has some warmth, but it lacks the fuzzy splendor of Elephant and Arabie. Those have always reminded me of Cinnabar in a certain way: they heat up on the skin the way the smell of food on the stove spreads through the house.

Aziyade is brisk. I would call it radiant. It doesn't smell anything like them but its radiance brings Caleche and Clinique Wrappings to mind. Those have a similar, slightly camphorous edge for me which should probably be chalked up to aldehydes. Aziyade's tangy vibe isn't something I've smelled anywhere, except perhaps in another Parfum D'Empire fragrance, Ambre Russe. What to call this? Both make me think of a rich, high end liqueur like the one I sometimes see and covet: a pear floats inside, like a model ship in a bottle. Aziyade dries down into a dreamy booze of a fragrance. It doesn't have the forceful longevity of Elephant and Arabie but it lasts quite well. Actually, now that I bring it up, it smells a bit of pear.

Miller Harris Noix de Tubereuse: My Little Story

When Brian posted his review of NdT it gave me a flood of memories.

It was about 7 years ago and I lived in New Jersey. I lived in a sleepy little town along the Delaware river called Frenchtown. About 30 minutes directly south is a less sleepy little town called New Hope, PA, known for it’s antique shops and restaurants. I remember being in a boutique and coming across the Miller Harris line. I had never seen nor sniffed the Miller Harris line and I was quite taken with their beautiful boxes and bottles. Truth be told I hadn’t seen nor sniffed much back then. I probably had about 5 bottles of perfume at home and thought this was excessive. So there I was, in this little shop, completely fascinated by Miller Harris. I sniffed and sniffed each and every scent from the line and knew I just had to have one. After about 30 minutes I think the shop owner got nervous that I was some sort of freak who would never buy anything and never leave. Eventually I decided upon my favorite – which was Noix de Tubereuse. After spending so much time I was embarrassed to ask the price so I simply bought it. I remember being shocked at the price tag which I think was $110. Back then, all the perfumes I bought cost around $50 bucks so this hundred dollar perfume was a big deal. I left the shop with my little treasure in hand. I was so excited. I brought my luxurious perfume home and stared at the bottle all night. It was such a treat. I remember thinking the scent was a bit strong and heavy and wondering if I could pull it off at the office.

Now it’s 7 years later. I still have that bottle of Noix de Tubereuse with about 10 ml remaining and so much has changed.

Miller Harris: Noix de Tubereuse

I'm guessing that with more of an online search than I'm willing to conduct right now I could find out what's up with the Miller Harris line being discontinued in the states. I know it's at least being liquidated at Bloomingdales, where I got a few bottles at half the usual price. The pickings were slim--I came to the sale late--but I did get Noix de Tubereuse, which interested me more than some of the others. I'm a fan of L'Air de Rien (and how) and had intended eventually to get Noix, but so many other fragrances at that price point spoke to me a little more urgently.

It could have something to do with the company I was keeping when I first smelled Noix at the counter. I sprayed some on and it gave her a headache. Of course, almost every perfume gives her a headache, but knowing this, tuberose was an evil move. At the time, I was inclined to agree with her: it smelled like an older lady's perfume. It's the knee jerk reaction to tuberose. But as we roamed the mall, my opinion changed. Noix seemed much fresher than any tuberose I'd smelled. It lacked that heavy resinous bombast which seems to anchor so many of its peers; yet it wasn't transparent, either.

The addition of mimosa really does magic on tuberose. Some have called this candied. Others say bubblegum. I get neither. For sure, the mimosa sweetens the mix, giving it an almost edible slant. Violet sweetens it further. I get the green notes, which come off like snapped stems. But it's the mimosa I smell more than anything for a while. Smelled from the bottle, this seems more like Noix de Mimosa.

That note really never goes away, but the tuberose does gradually emerge more emphatically. Noix goes powdery; not overwhelmingly, it's still too damp for that, but it's there. The best part of the fragrance is the buttery drydown. I can't think of a tuberose fragrance I remember having this quality in quite the same way. There's a creaminess to Noix. It remains bright but has that buttery warmth of something darker. I often feel when I smell a tuberose fragrance that I have too many already, and so many of them are so similar. I would never say that of Noix de Tubereuse. It's truly that miraculous rarity, a contemplative tuberose, quiet and thoughtful. Nothing is weighing too heavily on its mind.

Annick Goutal Vanille Exquise

It wasn’t very long ago that I disliked Vanille Exquise. I think that any true fragrance fanatic would have to admit to changing her mind on occasion or even frequently.

Prior to November, 2009, I didn’t wear many vanilla focused fragrances but lately I’ve been having a vanilla renaissance. It started with The Different Company Oriental Lounge, then PG Felanilla, then L’Artisan Havana Vanille, then Montale Chypre Vanille and now Annick Goutal Vanille Exquise. Somehow it took liking these four non-foodie vanillas for me to understand Vanille Exquise.

Vanille Exquise (2004) came years before Felanilla, Oriental Lounge, Havana Vanille and Chypre Vanille and it’s another vanilla scent for those who don’t like foodie vanillas. Initially there was a note in Vanille Exquise that was too harsh for me – I think it’s either angelica or gaiac wood – but this harshness is no longer there, it has magically disappeared or more accurately I’ve taken a liking to this jarring slightly nutty, woody, dry and herbal quality in combination with sweet vanilla.

Vanilla Exquise (VE) also reminds me a bit of Guerlain Angelique Noire, but again, for the record, VE arrived on the scene 1 year before Angelique Noire. I find VE better than Angelique Noire because it’s less sweet and foodie. Like many Guerlains, Angelique Noire has that sweet vanillic/Play-Doh “Guerlainade” that I’m not fond of. You either love that Guerlainade or you don’t and my favorite Guerlains are the one’s without it. I’m pointing out that Annick Goutal VE came before many of the interesting non-foodie vanillas on today’s market for a reason, and that is, that Annick Goutal is a phenomenal perfume house and Isabelle Doyan a brilliant perfumer . The more I focus on scents from Annick Goutal, the more I realize there are plenty of gems and not just boring pretty stuff.

The vanilla note in Vanille Exquise is always present but it’s in the background like a pair of delicate hand made curtains framing a picture window. The vanilla here is sweet, but it is blended with angelica and gaiac wood which are dark, dry and incense-y. The longer VE stays on my skin the better it gets; the blending of vanilla with this incense-y dryness is sublime. As I’ve mentioned in my last few posts, some fragrances require me to ‘spray myself wet’ and VE is one of them – but once I do it lasts all day and the sillage is nice.

I’ve come to realize that Annick Goutal is one of my favorite houses. Spray yourself wet with a few from AG and you might find you missed the beauty before.

Notes include: vanilla, angelica, almond, benzoin, gaiac wood and white musk.

Above photo courtesy of Decomprose on Flikr

Highwayman (Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab)

Few fragrances are discussed on the Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab forum with as much bewilderment as Highwayman. Though not without fans, it seems to leave detractors feeling as if they've been assaulted by some unseen hand. Two days into spending time with it, I started comparing it to Angel, not because it smells similar, but because Angel elicits equally strong, equally contradictory reactions, and because, like Angel, Highwayman is a proposition of opposites which can be as off-putting as it is mind-bending.

Many of the Black Phoenix fragrances require creative association on the part of the wearer; the oils are interpretations of a theme or a subject, and sometimes they're left of center to your expectations. Dracul's pine and mint notes--brisk, almost cheery--are anything but vampiric for some. Jasmine and patchouli might not readily come to mind when you think of the cryptic caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. Names like Sin and Perversion are bound to divide opinion. These things are discussed at length on the forum by fan and foe alike.

The first image I got, hearing the name Highwayman, was a pavement-bound drifter, dressed in scuffed leather, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes, vapors rising off the asphalt around him, desert on either side of the road; an unshaven stranger, fairly unwashed, his face and hands scuffed with the grease, grass, and dirt of innumerable days out in the open. That image sprang to life like a dry sponge hitting water the moment I smelled the fragrance.

Highwayman is the best leather fragrance I've ever smelled, and I've smelled quite a few. There's just no comparison. My biggest disappointment, even with my favorite leathers, is their eagerness to tame the foul harmony of the real thing. Chanel Cuir de Russie and Lancome Cuir make friendly with florals. Even more openly jarring leathers, like Heeley's Cuir Pleine Fleur, are ultimately a lot more softened than I'd like. Knize Ten, too, is incomparable--I wouldn't be without it--yet as it ventures deeper into tanned territory it sprinkles sweetener about generously. Creed's Royal English Leather and Parfum D'Empire's Cuir Ottoman are smooth and buttery, and ultimately more about amber than anything else. I want something that smells of the undomesticated animal it came from.

Highwayman has gardenia, rose, and jasmine in it but you'd never guess. Then again, gardenia and indolic jasmine are the last thing you'd expect to be paired with leather, about as far removed from the polite iris of Cuir de Russie as a baseball is from a basketball court. There's a floral aspect to Highwayman but you'd be hard pressed to say exactly what. It enhances the overall effect perfectly, the way the unlikely addition of chocolate to patchouli radicalized antagonistic opposites in Angel. The rubbery, camphorous vibe of gardenia works ideally here, and your mind continues to struggle its way around such an improbable counterpart.

Highwayman's biggest emphasis is on the smoked tarry ambience of creosote. The asphalt drives of my childhood were fertile with this smell during the summer, when the sun baked their dark surfaces, giving them a tactile rubbery spring and an aroma which seemed both aggressively unnatural and perfectly appropriate to the surrounding environment, smelling as much of wood as smoke. This quality, without taking Highwayman away from leather, places it alongside Santa Maria Novella's wonderful Nostalgia, which is a much more civilized version of Highwayman, a volatile marriage of creosote and kerosene. The scorched pavement Nostalgia burns rubber on is far too small a patch of land. It doesn't last. Highwayman is a wide open road, and it goes on forever.

Another useful comparison is Garage, from the Comme des Garçons Synthetics series. Again, Garage is a much more transparent and affable fragrance than Highwayman, but it plays around in the same space, among fuel spills and oil leaks and the rubber of well-worn tires. Garage pulls up to the dangling tennis ball, but, unlike Highwayman, it leaves the electric door open, allowing the air to circulate. Highwayman is more of a shut-in. It even lights a cigarette. Like Garage, Highwayman's effects have a lot to do with vetiver. Garage, again, cleans that up, making it a much prettier, more presentable contributor. Highwayman uses vetiver the way several good BPAL fragrances do, exploiting its rich, almost chocolatey depth, full of happy contradictions. The dry down of Highwayman is predominately vetiver, and not dissimilar to Lalique's Encre Noire.

I smell so many things that the idea of a holy grail seems a little bizarre in theory, like finding a needle in a haystack. I've smelled a lot of Black Phoenix scents too, and love more than I like. Some, like Djinn and Now Winter Lights Enlarge, are uncommonly good. The past year introduced me to Tabac Aurea by Sonoma Scent Studio and Teo Cabanel's Alahine. I knew when I smelled them what people mean when they designate a holy grail fragrance. It isn't that I wear these all the time, or even often. But they bond with my sensibility in a powerful, emotional way, as if they sprung out of my imagination, or take root there in a wonderfully parasitic way. Highwayman is at the top of that list.