Discretion got the better of me and I passed on Humiecki & Graef Clemency (the mother's milk one). But I'll soon have the other six. The few mentions of them on Basenotes mostly mock H&G's marketing campaign. (It seems like almost no one has bothered to smell them.) The marketing is very silly and European, yes, but sillier than Diddy suggesting you'll get laid if you wear I Am King?
That's the thing with these Basenotes fellows, tell them a fragrance represents the melancholic smell of a man's tears and they'll snicker their asses off, but tell them it'll make the girls go wild and they all reach for their wallets. Conversely, I guess I'm the target market for tears more than I am for sex. We all have our gullibility.
So you're telling me you've splashed out on full bottles of most of the H&G things? Probably wise to skip the mother's milk one.
Yes, full bottles of six H&G's, along with Tilda Swinton/Etat Libre d'Orange Like This. They all arrived on Saturday, but I wasn't here to sign. And now the post office tells me they're lost. Or not lost, but on a truck somewhere. They just don't know where. With any luck, they'll show up today. Or tomorrow.
Hope the post office sends out a search party for Tilda and the H&Gs. Of course once you get them, chances are high you'll be bemoaning that they weren't lost forever.
Very funny. You obviously know me and now you're using your knowledge to make cute little wisecracks. And yet it's a fair cute little wisecrack. It's too early to speak definitively but I've got Like This Tilda Swinton on one arm and H&G Eau Radieuse on the other and I can't quite decide which arm to saw off first.
I had feared Tilda would smell like pumpkin pie and, thankfully, it doesn't. But it does smell like ginger, a lot, the potency of which somehow pushes it into bug-spray territory. It smells like a spice rack and a pesticide rack. And, sadly, this is my favorite of the two.
Eau Radieuse smells like the sell-out of the H&G line, a tropical aquatic that pretty neatly reproduces the smell of unripe banana. But who wants to smell like unripe banana? Not me. Not right now at least. I'm going to shower.
And here's Alicia's response to Tilda Swinton...
Me (holding out my arm): What do you smell?
Me: Anything else?
Alicia: Yankee Candle. And ginger or nutmeg or something spicy, not exactly Christmas cookie but Christmas. Yankee Candle Christmas.
Alicia: Did you get something else?
(Wait until she smells that one.)
Love is patient, love is kind, love has a gas mask.
Based on the lack of buzz on the blogs, I suspect they're not selling like gangbusters, but I say Humiecki & Graef is a first-class line. Other than that aquatic one, I'm liking them all, especially Bosque of late (buffalo grass, musk, grapefruit, saffron, vetiver, primrose, narcissus). It smells both sweet and odd and I've worn it three days in a row.
All hail Bosque! Okay, only me hail Bosque. I can't stop wearing it, KP. And my hesitation in saying that with even more enthusiasm is whenever I begin to describe what it smells like, I realize it doesn't sound good, not even to me.
Plus, I don't think you'd like it (a big blast of musk runs beneath everything). So I'm celebrating Bosque alone. Which is ironic because I think it's supposed to smell "intimate." I'm being intimate with myself, which is no sin. Except I guess it is. I'm in quite a pickle with this Bosque.
Even Alicia has noticed my new routine. After smelling it on me several days in a row, she said, "You really like that one, don't you?" It was the kind of question that carried no judgment and yet because it also included not even a passing compliment, it was greeted defensively. I didn't want to talk about it. And I still don't.
And here's why: I gather Bosque is H&G's crowd-pleaser, not only because of all the musk and its accompanying sinus-clearing, steam-cleaned, bracingly fresh freshness (crowds love to be fresh), but because it's marketed as "a fragrance about contentment".
I'm not the target for contentment. I'm more content with apprehension, which means Bosque is perfect for me because my fondness for its fresh contentment makes me apprehensive.
In its defense, Bosque isn't all clean. It also features buffalo grass and vetiver and supposedly some florals that are so pale and quiet, they smell like they're coming from the perfume on the person across the room from you.
But mostly, Bosque smells clean, like emerging from the chlorinated swimming pool of a desert resort, surrounded by miles of dry grass and nothing else. It's chlorine and dead grass and while I can't defend such a thing, I'm hooked on it like it's heroin. Which, I think, is also a sin.