Anyway, 1740 features Marquis de Sade as the spokesmodel, which perhaps sets up more elaborate expectations than the actual fragrance can fulfill, good as it is. 1740 has a masculine whiskey-and-tobacco swagger. There's a lot of dry leather and a hint of woody maple syrup.
Wearing it, I'm reminded me of the time husb J and I were hiking on San Jacinto Peak. I kept remarking that certain evergreens we passed smelled like pancakes and maple syrup. Trying to figure out how this could be so, I stood with my nose right up against one of the trees.
“Oh, you mean those trees,” J said, as if he knew all about it. “They taste good, too. Go ahead, lick it!”
With an immediate “understanding” that we were in some kind of Willy Wonka forest, I obediently licked the dry bark. (Hmm, maybe this is turning into a Marquis de Sade scenario after all.)
J couldn't believe how hilariously dumb and trusting I was. I maintain to this day that I wasn't being dumb and trusting -- it's just that I never miss a chance to indulge my sweet tooth.
(J also never lets me forget the time we were hiking in Big Sur, and upon spying an adorable cluster of does and fawns at the side of the trail, my comment was, “Are they real?” Okay, maybe that was dumb. But it least it wasn't trusting.)
Where were we? Oh yes, 1740. Dry, leathery, with a distant drop of maple. Better than licking tree bark, to be sure. But at 1740's extreme drydown, the immortelle morphs from maple into a “does this really count as perfume?” waft of curry.
Sometimes, that curry note is great, because it lends a sexy “sweaty guy” vibe to a perfume. But sometimes, it just smells like curry, which only makes me think I spilled something on myself while whipping up aloo gobi for eight. 1740's immortelle tick-tocks between those two not-so-extremes, and so I hover between enjoying it and wanting to clean my stove.
But I might be too fussy with my whining about extreme drydowns. If I were more like Perfume Pen Pal Dan, a fragrance would never live beyond young adulthood on my skin before I was showering and applying something new that had just arrived in the mail.
Speaking of showering and applying something new, it's time for 1804. Uh...pineapple? Not what I expect when the PR bumf mentions “George Sand”. Once I begrudgingly accept that pineapple is what will be guffing off my skin for the foreseeable future, I kind of relax and go along for the ride.
1804 surprises me be by getting less, not more, obnoxious as it goes along, and assumes some of the creamy peach candy lilt of another recent sweetie-fume discovery of mine, Nez à Nez Bouche Baie.
Dan also tried 1804 and found it:
Hmm, wasn't George Sand a cross-dresser? Maybe HdP's branding shtick has some validity after all! Dan's the biggest cross-smeller I know.
...an aggressively lovely combination of white flowers, amber and patchouli. I smell like a sexy hippie lady vacationing in Hawaii.
Fumies, what are your preferred "cross-smelling" choices?
Coming up: still more Histoires de Parfums.
Read Histoires de Parfums Part 1 here.
Image: Marquis de Sade by Kate O'Brien