To whom does one complain when fragrance satisfaction is not obtainable? To you, it would appear. In the meantime, I do feel I "need" a saffron rose, and am not sure Montale White Aoud is the best I can do. And L'Artisan Parfumeur Safran Troublant is too direct and cartoony. And Washington Tremlett Black Tie is okay, but a bit cardboard-y and not as lovely as Rosine Rose Kashmirie.
Wah wah wah!
I have no nose for spicy, oud-y scents. I have a sample of Safran Troublant, which I just applied, having read your "cartoony" description and somehow excited by the prospect of smelling cartoony (you never know what the public will respond to, Katie), and my immediate response is, "This smells just like a Montale." I don't know which one, maybe it's all of them (could that be the cartoony aspect?), but it definitely takes me back to those days when I was anxiously buying up Montales like they were crack.
I hesitate to recommend this because it will eventually result in you being penniless and peddling old bottles of perfume on Sunset Boulevard for a warm blanket, but what the hell....
Have you tried M. Micallef Homme Aoud? I know I keep pushing this line but I swear someone at LuckyScent pushed it on me first, sending me a bunch of vials without my authorization. Without my authorization! Anyway, to me it smells exactly like Montale White Aoud, but it is a saffron/rose and people do seem to like it. (Especially the people at LuckyScent.)
Without my authorization, Katie!
You were doing a teasy-time on me about this, but yes, I do love my "winter" scents. I just don't feel these smoky, sultry, rich, caloric smells are seasonal. They're just the smells I want to have in the air around me at all times. I really don't know what's come over me, because I used to be Zingy Chypre’n’Citrus Girl all the livelong day. And I would never be interested in powder, no way McGee. So now here I am choking back big gusts of Creed Angelique Encens and Nasomatto China White and thinking it's all bloody marvelous.
But once I get my hands on it, Amouage Homage Attar will be the beginning of a whole new-smellin' me, that's for sure. There's not a speck of dusty powder on that one.
Well, I say smoky is a big improvement over citrusy. Still, to deny these scents are seasonal reminds me of the little kid who sees nothing incongruous about wearing his red cowl-neck reindeer sweater from Aunt Martha to the park in June. He just wants his red reindeer sweater around him, too, Katie.
Of course, I'm kidding (sort of). Smells are seasonless, sexless, they have no arms or legs, they can't do simple arithmetic, and just try getting one to pick up a book. It's like pulling teeth! But I like attaching seasons to things because it allows me to imagine it's Christmas in June or summer in December. I once suffered through an artist retreat in wintry Northern Vermont and brought along a bottle of Coppertone. Just to stave off the Northern Vermont depression. (Seriously, it's nothing but hunters and maple syrup up there.)
Okay, so I got up at 7:30 a.m. for an 8:45 a.m. telephone meeting. And I apparently smell cartoony. This day isn't beginning well.
I should have qualified "cartoony" with regard to Safran Troublant. I didn't mean cartoony as in "sound effects, easy humorous violence where no-one gets hurt" -- that would be Jean Paul Gaultier Ma Dame. I meant "cartoony" in the sense of "sketch for a future masterpiece", da Vinci-style. Obviously. (I’m working on keeping my pretension levels high.)
I felt that Safran Troublant was a little simple. But that was from memory, and wearing some now, it's a nice smell, but not rosy enough for what I'm after. Seems cumin-y with the saffron -- tasty, sure, but I want more fruity rose-creamy.
Okay, I've just put Washington Tremlett Black Tie on the other hand, and the sharp geranium note in that has rendered the Safran Troublant creamy by contrast. There truly are no absolutes in this perfume reviewing game, I'm learning. I’m reminded of the angry teen who flamed on my Britney Spears Hidden Fantasy review, "It's ORANGE. Majorly ORANGE. Have you even smelled this thing?"
Britney Spears: majorly orange.
Am waiting on samples of Angelique Encens and Rose Kashmerie. The thing is, samples might just be all I need, because what I really want to do is get all my contenders in a room together, and do a little casting session for my future perfumes. But I do know 100% that Homage Attar will be stinking up my summer.
I don't like Safran Troublant at all. I can barely detect anything that doesn't smell like it comes from my spice shelf. And my spice shelf isn't even well stocked. (I like to eat out a lot.)
Probably too simple on the rose side but have you tried the Hermès Rose Ikebana sample I sent down? I'm not crazy about rose, but I definitely prefer it to smelling like a spice rack.
As for your dream of auditioning all your samples in a room, it never seems to work that way. The more samples you add, the more muddled things become, and every single day you'll decide you have a new favorite perfume. A new favorite that by next Tuesday you'll have forgotten all about. It's probably a lot like dating is for George Clooney.
Right now, I have maybe 60 different samples (and I pared back when I moved a few months ago), with another 20 on the way. It's nonsense. I'll try something, like it, and if I don't immediately buy a bottle, I'll completely forget about it. It feeds into my compulsiveness but it's ultimately an empty experience. Again, like dating.
Thanks for happy prediction on Tom Ford Private Blend Italian Cypress. I'm determined to have some woody masculines in my collection, no matter how much I hate them. It's the perfume equivalent of buying classical CDs, I guess. I just want to appear cultured. And well rounded. And Italian! I want to appear Italian.
I've got to wash off this Safran Troublant and start all over. This is ridiculous. Do you own anything from L'Artisan? Other than Dzing!? Oh, Vanilia, right? I've tried a bunch of them but, again, I can't remember most. Maybe I need a conservatorship.
We really need to set up a hotline if I'm to rely on you for perfume advice. Because within minutes of me sending you an email, I have a long list of things in my head, the room is spinning, everyone is giddy and, wham, perfumes are purchased.
I've quickly recovered from my terrible Tom Ford mistake (I know, it's premature to say this but, seriously, me and Italian Cypress? Seriously?) with the purchase of Profumum Thundra, from near the top of my wish list. I own Thundra, Katie! Although recovery in this case cost me $240, more than twice the original mistake. Talk about a Pyrrhic victory.
What else? Oh, an orderly collection of samples: three from Indult, three from Profumo, three from Nasomatto, three from Comme des Garçons (green and red series), the three Mark Buxton scents for biehl parfumkunstwerke (pronounce that one carefully), and, yes, The Party in Manhattan, which I like to say in a Norwegian accent even though it has nothing to do with Norway. And even though I don't quite know what a Norwegian accent sounds like. With all of my other samples coming (and the ones already here), I say it's time for a perfume party in my loft.
Which reminds me of a post on Basenotes in which someone went on about how they put a bunch of crappy fragrances on paper for friends at a party and tabulated who liked what. And then passed along the results. To the acclaim of other members: "What a great idea!" "Thanks for the data! Interesting!"
Why must I turn on my fellow perfume-lovers? I'm no better than they are, Katie. Well, yes I am, but not always in the ways in which I mock them. I'd go to a perfume party, for example, if there were something other than Creeds there. And if I didn't have to do all the tabulations. And if I could leave early if the others were making me uncomfortable. I just want to fit in! Can't you see that? Have you even smelled this thing? It's majorly ORANGE!
Le Fromage l'Orange by 14 via Gallery of the Absurd