Re Musc Ravageur: I don't know if this in any way mitigates your queasy sensation of grossness, but my poison is the oil, not the eau de parfum. It's silky soft and melts right in and smells sensual and wears close.
Funny you should mention Dzing!, because I've been going in for regular sprtizes of it at the beauty supply store next to my yoga studio. Leave yoga relatively fresh, arrive home smelling like a warm saddle with a crotchful of kettle corn. So yeah, I enjoy Dzing! - it's on the clean side of barnyard. Don't know that I need to own it, because I've already got my barnyard brew of Le Labo Labdanum 18 and Bal à Versailles.
Your perfume piñata of decants just arrived, and soon I will be smelling weird - possibly gross - new smells. I'm very excited!
The fellow in the loft above mine is throwing another in a series of post-4 a.m. parties (seriously, he looks as if he hasn't been sober since 1987 - I've only been here a few months and already I'm hoping my neighbor dies of an overdose) and so I'm awake and in no mood to write. Professionally that is. I'm always in the mood to write emails.
I've not sampled the Musc Ravageur oil, but the edp is the kind of thing I can't pull off. (And thus my hatred. I'm just jealous, Katie.) Same with that Czech & Speake #88 about which everyone raves. These are sweet and heavy scents seemingly made for a person of genuine presence. I make a few funny remarks and hope to go unnoticed for the rest of the evening. I can't have my fragrance undermining that. Also, it's amazing how much better (to my nose, at least) the more traditional masculine scents smell on women than men. The surprise alone can sometimes carry the day.
Alright, the party continues (there's heavy concrete between us so I can never hear actual conversation, only the constant clapping of heels on hardwood floor). I should probably go up there and kick some serious ass. If only I had kept my Musc Ravageur. Because no one can kick serious ass wearing Etat Libre d’Orange Jasmin et Cigarette.
It’s like perfume Xmas around here with your decants! Have realized that getting a baggie of someone else's taste is the perfect way to broaden my palate. You know how it is when picking out fragrance, or music, or items on a menu - you just go with what you know you already like. Here, I'm confronted with a plate of pig knuckles, baked Alaska and brains-on-toast: stuff I would never order, but who knows, I might end up loving!
Wow, this By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses is some classy shit! Still enjoying the gorgeous plummy wood drydown from last night's application.
Gosh, I'm glad you're so happy. I've sent fragrances to friends and had them practically shrug over email to me.
So how great is this Amouage Homage Attar stuff? I have tried Amouage Gold and while it's potent, after a couple hours I smelled as if I had been dunked in a vat of baby power. (Thank goodness that kind of thing is no longer legal in this country.) I remember being in Whole Foods and feeling terribly self-conscious. I feel self-conscious enough normally, I don't need a scent to encourage me to feel self-conscious. But if you say Homage is great, well, I've got to try it.
Homage Attar. It is truly a glory, and not at all powdery. It is just radiantly flowers'n'frankincense, and skews feminine, so it's intriguing that the menfolk are wading on in there. They might be lured by the mention of oud, but this oud is in no way the Montale chemical warfare approach. Haven't tried Gold, so I couldn't do a consumer comparison report, there, but in contrast with the Jubilations and the Lyrics, Homage Attar is much more delicate, fine-boned and aristocratic.
OK, am now road-testing The Different Company Sel de Vetiver, which I knew I enjoyed, but tell you what, I'm already missing By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses. That dry down was just right. Lovely.
I don't know how I feel about my perfumes being compared to pig knuckles, but I did enjoy beef cheeks the other night. Which weren't exactly what I expected. They were most definitely plural: a whole stack of them slathered in a heavy, brown, aggressively meaty sauce. Plus, they were breaded, which helped further disguise what a terrible mistake I had just made. Occasionally, I like to fancy myself an Anthony Bourdain and I order recklessly. (Ever eat a raw quail egg, Katie? I have.) I can't imagine the perfume equivalent of beef cheeks, but I bet Kenneth Cole has something to do with it.
Did you read Chandler Burr's book on Jean-Claude Ellena, The Perfect Scent? I remember Sel de Vetiver was part of that and it talked about Celine Ellena's attempt to capture the mineral smell of Parisian tap water. And it is very mineral-y. (The perfume, I mean. I have no recollection of the water.) It's similar to Jean-Claude's Bois d'Iris, but I prefer SdV. My friend wore it before a coastal hike last weekend and it blended perfectly with the environment (sometimes perfumes and nature, depending on the nature, don't quite sync up).
Alright, now I'm sounding like one of those obsessive Basenoters, documenting the best locations for certain scents. This is where over-thinking pays off: you might not be the most comfortable fellow in a room, but you'll never get caught taking pictures of your perfume collection.