Last night, I put on Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114, perhaps not the best choice as I would be attending a silent film festival and sitting in a crowded theater for hours. A crowded silent theater, which makes a difference because people can smell better when there's no noise. (That's only my theory but, you watch, it'll be widely accepted before long.)
Thank goodness there was a live orchestra to provide aural texture for my perfume (and also the films), and it was obvious the music complemented me because the entire audience appeared delighted.
But it wasn't Ambre 114 everyone was smelling, it was Ambre 114 and HdP Noir Patchouli, the result of a mistake back at home. I use these tiny little sprayers for my tiny little vials because I don't like to pour perfume on my wrists, let alone all over the floor, the desk, the sofa, wherever I happen to be applying. (I have the dexterity of a rhino. You should see me with chopsticks. Ever see a rhino with chopsticks? Same thing.)
I'm always careful to rotate my tiny little sprayers and then wash them all out. Except when I'm not, when I just leave them lying around, filled with who knows what. (If you're eating light, they're also great for applying salad dressing.)
So last night, my Ambre 114 sprayer was filled with Noir Patchouli and my first two sprays smelled suspiciously like I had smelled earlier in the day, but then my next two sprays smelled like amber, and at the end of what was a confusing few seconds for me, I smelled great! Very, very great! The earthy patchouli notes still came through but now they were layered with sweet, warm amber.
I realize proclaiming amber works well with patchouli in 2010 is like pairing chocolate with peanut butter and then boasting that your sudden weight gain is the result of a delicious new discovery, but I don't normally venture into layering, so please permit me to celebrate this one happy accident.
I kept smelling myself throughout the evening, assuming the experiment would eventually fall apart, that one or the other perfume would take charge while I sat by helplessly, watching a sad old film, listening to sad old music, and trying not to shed any tears at the image of sad old me, sitting in a movie theater, smelling myself, while everyone else was having a grand old time. But that didn't happen, KP! Because I smelled great and the whole audience agreed, I'm certain of it. A side note (and, let's face it, everything I write is a side note, it's not like I'm breaking any news from Afghanistan): this morning I noticed that Histoires de Parfums 1826 features both amber and patchouli and so I assumed it would smell the same as I did last night, but I was wrong. 1826 is sweeter and more subdued than Ambre Patchouli (Noir Ambre?) and while it's really quite lovely, its sweetness seems as much vanilla as amber and its patchouli is a background player, maybe even a stagehand, to 1826's softer fruity side. Nonetheless, I like it, it's a good, sweet perfume that has just enough spice to keep things interesting. It smells like summer. Uh-oh, it is summer. That's bad news for my budget. Wait, do I have a budget? Because you can't have bad news for something that doesn't exist. My budget is the dialogue of my silent movie. And my perfume is the orchestra. Thank goodness for the orchestra. Dan
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