Katie Puckrik Smells: December 2010

Perfume Pen Pals: Indult Reve en Cuir and My Favorite Masculine Scent

Katie,

Today I'm wearing Indult Rêve en Cuir, the one Chandler Burr gave five stars in the New York Times, but sounded like he wanted to give twenty stars. It's definitely leather. Yep, that it is. And, like the other Indults I tried, it's surprisingly sweet. It's entirely pleasant and I want to emphasize that. But I also want to emphasize my arm smells like a recliner. And I don't know how I feel about that.

Here's the conflict: I like the smell of leather but I don't quite like it on me. And I definitely don't like the added sweetness, in Rêve en Cuir and in most masculine colognes. Sweet male scents always seem a little sleazy to me, not inherently sleazy but sleazy by association. I can't help imagining some guy in a suit trying to snuggle up to his secretary after a couple martinis.

The kind of guy about whom my father would say, "I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him." (My father was an utterly unostentatious man who wore overalls and Irish Spring, but because he owned a large wholesale nursery, he'd occasionally have to trouble himself with men in suits.) I wonder if this is why young men favor those empty aquatics, because they don't want to smell like sleazy old guys. That's the best defense I have for empty aquatics. That it's an intellectual defense surprises even me. When it comes to leather scents, I think I prefer the more modern synthetic ones, like S-ex or Etat Libre d'Orange Rien. Neither is sweet in the least and because they both smell so new, they don't relate to any of the men my father knew not to like. Of course, none of this is the fault of Rêve en Cuir. It's a fine fragrance and Chandler Burr isn't off his rocker for loving it (he's off his rocker for loving Britney Spears Midnight Fantasy), but I'm just not a Rêve en Cuir man. My father would be proud. Dan

Dan, Rêve en Cuir: I didn't understand this one. It was over my head. I need to revisit it. Katie

Katie I'm surprised Rêve en Cuir was over your head. Are you sure it wasn't under your head? Or beneath your feet? It's not all that complex. It's a slightly sweet leather and that's all. At $250, I wouldn't recommend revisiting it before you've made a billion dollars and decide you want to own everything. Dan

Dan, Got this message on YouTube: "I'll only watch your channel if you tell me what your favorite masculine scent is. Thanks.” I immediately thought, "Oh goody, a perfume challenge! I'll bet this guy's a Creed nerd. I should probably say some Creed thing. Or Lalique Encre Noire." For more intel, I Googled him, and up came this comment of his on Cubby's “Fragrance Talk" YouTube channel: "Can't you review Encre Noire by Lalique or maybe Silver Mountain Water by Creed?” So there ya go. Smelling Silver Mountain Water back when it came out practically turned me off the whole line with its sneezy charmlessness. Anyway, I don't know what to tell this fellow. I'm not sure what my favorite masculine scent is. Maybe Divine L'Homme Sage? Bulgari Black? Ormonde Jayne Ormonde Man? Christian Dior Eau Sauvage? Old Spice? Anyway, my real answer is: my favorite masculine scent is not a perfume -- it's the man. I really only want to smell the man. If it's my man, that is. All other men can wear what they like. As long as it's not Silver Mountain Water. Katie

Katie, People are predictable, aren't they? I have a theory that there are only nine or ten people in the whole world and the rest of us are just duplicates. Well, not a serious theory. Still, there does seem to be a lot of repetition. You could call his bluff and say you'll only tell him your favorite masculine if he tells you his favorite feminine first. But don't say Silver Mountain Water. That was one of the Creeds I tried and found it entirely charmless, too. There's something blankly masculine about all those Creeds. Like the only thing you can gather from them is, "Yep, this was definitely made for a man." I'm wearing Chanel Coromandel tonight and loving myself! Tell him Coromandel and fuck with his head. Dan

Dan, One of my viewers tells me she sneakily puts Coromandel on her husband's undershirts when he's not around, so he unwittingly wears it. I know what you mean about loving yourself in Coromandel. Putting on that perfume makes you complete. Like you're in the best relationship ever, and it's with yourself. Katie

Fumies -- which perfume completes you?

Tropical Triplets: JAR Bolt of Lightning, LesNez Manoumalia and Aftelier Perfumes Parfum Prive

The other day, luxury blogger Nathan Branch gave me a nudge in the comments section of my "Holiday Party Fragrance Tips" post:

“Perhaps for your NY's Eve party schedule you might wish to sport that sample of JAR Bolt of Lightning that I know you have . . . *ahem*. It's lush, gorgeous and radiates goodwill.”

Okay, Nathan, I've finally taken a stab at the generous decant of JAR Bolt of Lightning you sent me, and...is there such as thing as being too generous? Because here's what Bolt of Lightning is doing to me:

First thing on the skin, it's a stomach-roiling cross between Etat d'Orange Sécrétions Magnifiques and Gorilla Perfume Breath of God: thick, rotting undergrowth, white florals and menthol. It calms down pretty quickly, and smells like fresh tuberose for a minute. And then after about 20 minutes, it smells like minty, metallic meat. Or perhaps “minty, metallic meat” is the fresh tuberose?

Oh, it's lush, all right, but whatever it's radiating is not "goodwill.”

Guaranteed to give you a severe dose of goodwill radiation.

I did a quick whirl around the fumisphere to see what the other kids were saying about Bolt of Lightning, and had one of those “duh” moments as I realized that Bolt of Lightning was the hip, obscure object of desire about five years ago already. I may have missed it then, but thanks to Nathan, I was catching up on my homework now.

Despite its ritzy-titsy price of almost 800 clams for a 1 ounce bottle, I was interested to find a distinct consensus on BoL's startling out-of-the-bottle yakkiness, including this comment from Nathan on Basenotes:

“Opens up with a seriously foul, rotting vegetation note, but after twenty minutes transforms into one of the most beautiful fragrances I've ever smelled -- an airy, fresh, lightly green and subtly sweet concoction”

...a theme he develops on his BoL blog post, here.

Well, my Bolt of Lightning clock might need another electrical charge, because at T minus 25, all I was getting was still that minty, metallic meat. Along with what Basenoter Marlen Harrison described with breathtaking specificity: “stale ice cube trays.”

Bolt of Lightning did put me in mind of LesNez Manoumalia, another sultry white floral that also cha-cha-chas with the gag reflex. Though with Manoumalia, I happily embrace its sexily suffocating tropical allure, represented by tiare instead of BoL's tuberose.

It was instructive to apply Manoumalia for the inevitable dance-off, however, because their imagined similarities were outweighed by their actual differences. Manoumalia stayed warm, salty skin-like, almost nutty. BoL revealed itself as cooler, thinner, sweeter.

But I couldn't shake the sense that BoL's earthy florals resembled something I'd recently worn, and still trying to pin the tail on the donkey, I dabbed on my sample of Aftelier Perfumes Parfum Privé.

Ooooh -- dig that smooove tropical leather! Parfum Privé is Mandy Aftel's essay on the night air in Hawaii, and wearing it, I'm there: the humidity, the orange blossoms, the ocean.

As Aftel only uses natural ingredients in her perfumes, it's actually meaningful to consult her list of notes: bergamot, pink pepper CO2, orange flower absolute, osmanthus, pimento leaf, ambrette, ambergris. Yes, ambergris: the legendary -- and legendarily rare -- oxidized whale hork that has imparted a lived-in physicality and sensual warmth to centuries of perfumes.

Brigitte Bardot has a lot in common with ambergris. Like the way she washes up on the beach.

Parfum Privé has a chewy, latex aspect to the florals. The nutmeggy pimento is spicy, but spice without bite, just flavor. Privé isn't as “warm, wet beach towel on the face” as Manoumalia, but both trade in the seashore's muggy allure. There's an almost-sweetness to Privé, like cooked-to-caramelized brown butter.

As a natural perfume, Privé doesn't have the tenacity and throw of fragrances 'roided up with synthetics, so the experience is softer. Even still, Privé has a beautiful, persistent presence on the skin.

The more I contemplated tropical triplets Parfum Privé, Manoumalia and Bolt of Lightning, the more it became apparent that at most, they were only fraternal siblings.

Will the real tropical triplets please stand up?

And most unexpectedly, while I wasn't paying attention, Bolt of Lightning outgrew its ugly monkey baby stage and turned into a genuinely pretty perfume. It smelled like the distant drydown of Comme des Garçons' bombastic Daphne: tuberose and candied incense.

Nathan's comment:

“It does the darnedest Ugly Duckling To A Beautiful Swan transformation -- from foul to fowl! Its development from awful intro into utter gorgeousness would be almost comical if it weren't so breathtaking.

BoL is the fragrance that made me believe in the possibilities of tuberose. From what I understand, it has a hefty overdose of natural tuberose essence, which is why it's so expensive.”

And which is why I was getting all that minty meat. In Perfumes: The A-Z Guide, Tania Sanchez describes the smell of tuberose absolute as “rubber tires, steak tartare, Chinese muscle rub.”

But as much as I enjoyed the nasal workout, Nathan, I will not be sporting Bolt of Lightning come New Year's Eve. By the time BoL got pretty, it was well into the fadeout. Why couldn't the pretty part be as loud and insistent as the ugly monkey baby part?

A baby anything is never ugly. Unless it's a perfume.

So, my New Year's tuberose choice is still on schedule as Frédéric Malle Carnal Flower. Carnal Flower not only starts pretty but it stays pretty, and it stays pretty forever.

Bolt of Lightning is discontinued, Manoumalia is from Les Nez, and Parfum Privé is from Aftelier.com

Image credits:
Aloha Girl by tsevis
Bardot still from ...And God Created Woman
Rodgers triplets via
Baby monkey via

Viewer Mail: Fragrance Investment Advice

Hi Katie,

I need your help! I'm a 27 year-old-guy who works in a private bank no fewer than 10 hours a day, meeting managing directors and wealthy clients daily.

Despite the obviously serious and rather conservative context I work in, I wouldn't mind a touch of eccentricity to defy or challenge the common prejudice about gray and dull investment professionals. Actually, I think some feminine notes would be intriguing. And from a practical standpoint, it would have to be something quite persistent through the long working day.

Lately I've been wearing Eau de Cartier, which I still like, but I have grown a bit tired of it. Any suggestions?

Andrew

Andrew, I like your approach of subversion through scent. For masculine fragrances in touch with their feminine side, how about the spicy rose sandalwood of Chanel Egoïste (the original, not the Platinum version), or the smoky chai of L'Artisan Parfumeur Tea for Two?

Or, employing the “context is everything” rule, you could try Christian Dior Diorella (savory citrus and melon with mossy wood), Thierry Mugler Womanity (fresh fig and green pepper on a bed of ambery wood) or Lolita Lempicka Minuit Noir (violet/patchouli sandwich with extra licorice). All three are marketed as feminines, but they work great on men.

I polled my Perfume Pen Pal Dan Rolleri for his take on the matter, and here's what he had to say:

Well, when I think unisex with a little eccentricity, I fall back to Chanel Coromandel and By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses. Both are male enough, I think, though if he's starting from Eau de Cartier, maybe one of the Dior Colognes might be a more natural step.

For longevity, why not Heeley Cuir Pleine Fleur? That might be perfect: soft leather and violet.

And how about Bulgari Black?

I like all of Dan's ideas (though I think Coromandel and Liaisons Dangereuses are too large-scale for a day at the bank), and out of the Dior Colognes, I'd recommend the honeyed myrrh of Bois d'Argent and the fenugreek/lavender of Eau Noire.

Fumies, any guidance for Andrew on how to sneak some quirk into work, scent-wise?

Holiday Party Fragrance Tips

When it comes to parties, perfume is always my plus-one. It's the perfect opportunity to wear your biggest, funnest scents — those larger-than-life characters that can really dazzle a crowd.

Frédéric Malle Une Rose is one of my favorite high-heels fragrances, as is Chanel Coromandel. Agent Provocateur puts me in a minxy mood when I'm all foxed up for festivities, and Comme des Garçons Daphne is a real whoop-de-doo party gal.

And after smelling Malle's glorious Carnal Flower on Juicy Couture co-founder Gela Nash-Taylor at Solange Azagury-Partridge's recent Beverly Hills jewelry shop bash, I'm now enlightened. I used to think Carnal Flower was too overwhelming for me to pull off, but I loved how it sang right off Gela's skin into a floral puff of joy that delighted everyone around her. I'm back on board the Carnal Flower love train.

Don't bother wrapping it, Solange - I'll just wear it home.

Carnal Flower's fresh vibrancy is the perfect optimistic perfume to ring in the New Year, and that's what I'll be smelling like when the clock strikes midnight. What will you be wearing? While you're pondering, here are my holiday party picks:

OFFICE PARTY / BLOCK PARTY / PARTY PARTY:

Agent Provocateur Diamond Dust — this mossy saffron rose has already started fooling around without you. Hurry up and get in there! (UPDATE: the Diamond Dust version is no longer available, but the original, non-sparkly Agent Provocateur will do ya right.)

Escentric Molecules Molecule 01 — cedar-ish and sandalwood-ish magic potion.

DINNER PARTY:

Guerlain Shalimar Ode à la Vanille — a lighter-hearted version of the original, scaling back the leather and bumping up the vanilla.

Fresh Cannabis Santal — quietly yummy patchouli, chocolate, plums, musk.

NEW YEAR'S EVE:

Frédéric Malle Carnal Flower — lavish and joyful tuberose.

Van Cleef & Arpels Midnight in Paris — sweet, leathery amber.

How To Choose a Fragrance Gift

Raoul and Katie sittin' in a tree -- h-u-f-f-i-n-g.

Yep, I'm back at Fox 5 San Diego Morning News for another fragrance slot with anchordude Raoul Martinez, who's revealing himself to be quite the budding fume connoisseur. Before my “Fragrance Gift Tips” segment starts, Raoul leans in and fixes me with an earnest look. “How long does fragrance last?” he asks. He explains that he has a bunch of colognes from when his wife used to work at a perfume counter years back, and he's started to notice that they doesn't pack the punch they used to.

“They don't last as long, and there's something missing from the smell,” he explains.

A few quick questions determine that he's been keeping his bottles in a hot bathroom, and I set him straight on the no heat/no light rule for preserving one's collection. The upside of having your fragrances die on you is that it's the perfect excuse to wear something new, and after a quick sniff through my selection, Raoul takes an instant delight in Hermès Terre d'Hermès parfum.

“I like this!” he enthuses, holding his wrist out for anchorlady Shally Zomorodi to sniff. She obliges, then wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.

“No? This smells good!” he insists, as Shally marches back to her anchor desk.

“Naw. I like Chanel Platinum Égoïste,” she declares over her shoulder. “That's what smells good on a man.”

“What's that stuff you were wearing that made me crazy?” Raoul calls across the studio to her.

Shally thinks for a second. “Oh yeah! Coco Mademoiselle!”

Raoul turns back to me conspiratorially. “Someone had it and she tried some on and it made me --” he rolls his eyes back in his head by way of illustration. “I told her how amazing it smelled and she ran right out and bought a bottle. Now that smells good.” That's all for today's fragrance news from San Diego Fox 5.

And now for the recap of my holiday fragrance gift picks:

FOR MOM:

Chanel No. 5 Eau Première -- brighter, fizzier, younger version of the classic Chanel No. 5. Starting at $135 for 5 oz from Amazon.com

FOR DAD:

Guerlain Vetiver -- fresh, grassy and spicy. Starting at $45 for 1.7 oz from Amazon.com, FragranceNet.com and Sephora.com

FOR YOUR GIRLFRIEND OR WIFE:

Narciso Rodriguez for Her eau de parfum -- a kiss of orange blossom and a nuzzle of musk. Feminine with a capital “F”. Starting at $78 for 1.6 oz from Amazon.com, FragranceNet.com and Sephora.com

FOR YOUR BOYFRIEND OR HUSBAND:

Hermes Terre d'Hermes parfum -- starts off fresh, ends up deep. Kind of like your man. $91 for 2.5 oz from Amazon.com

FOR A TEENAGE GIRL:

Juliette Has a Gun Lady Vengeance -- buttery rose patchouli. Baby's first bombshell perfume. Starting from $85 for 1.7 oz from Amazon.com and FragranceNet.com

Yves Saint Laurent Belle D'Opium -- peachy patchouli hookah pipe teen dream. Starting at $26 for .25 oz from Amazon.com

FOR A TEENAGE GUY:

Lalique White -- brisk citrus'n'spice start, followed by creamy incense/pine woodsiness. Smells good without seeming like you're trying too hard. Starting at $45 for 4.2 oz from Amazon.com

Frederic Malle / Portrait of a Lady

...a Nahema for the new century.

It was the purchase of a bottle of Keiko Mecheri Oliban several years ago that upgraded me from a straight incense fiend into a rose and incense fiend. And then when oud wood began regularly beefing up rose perfumes, much like added calcium in breakfast cereals, I made sure I got my RDA with regular servings of People of the Labyrinths A*Maze, Juliette Has a Gun Midnight Oud, Montale White Aoud, and the exalted Amouage Homage Attar.

So when I started hearing talk about a new Frédéric Malle scent combining incense, rose and oud, composed by Carnal Flower master Dominique Ropion no less, I went a little doolally. I pestered my local Barneys, I peppered Malle HQ with emails. When, when, oh WHEN was Portrait of a Lady going to be available?

Now, now, oh NOW is when it's available, dear whiffers, and NOW is when Portrait of a Lady is my newest favorite perfume ever. This Lady features a vibrant patchouli that smells uncannily of fresh, wet dirt whipped up into a dusty benzoin cloud. There's minty geranium, muffled cinnamon and tart berries. Even though the rose is billed as “a daring dosage of the best Turkish rose essence,” I perceive the rose as a kind of backwards echo drifting through the composition, rather than a front and center “I am rose, hear me roar” flower power player.

The slight sharpness of the incense contrasts beautifully with the musk's plushness. The suggestion of oud is barely, but beautifully, there. It's just a niff of that odd oudy floor polish before it swells into a leathery sourness, lacing all the prettiness together. For such a complex perfume, the brush strokes are blended beyond visibility.

Utilizing clumsy perfume math, Portrait of a Lady is the intersection between Cartier XII L’Heure Mystérieuse with its dense patchouli and incense, By Kilian Rose Oud's creamy/sour oud friction against its Turkish rose, Micallef Rose Aoud's fruity/flirty rose and oud, By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses' bright blackcurrant/rose combo, and Chanel Coromandel's plush patchouli and benzoin blend.

And catching an unexpected huff off my t-shirt during yoga class the other day, I also flashed on Agent Provocateur. Without being as overtly “busy knickers” as AP, Portrait of Lady does share an echo of its unshowered musky rose closeness.

For all of its dusty patchouli rosy oudy musky minty berry divinity, Portrait of a Lady isn't bombastic. This is a big perfume, but incredibly, not a loud one. Despite the supergroup ingredients, the scale isn't stadium-sized, but human. The keenly calibrated blend emphasizes the players' affinity for each other, instead of their individual tendencies to showboat. The sillage caresses, rather than oppresses.

Like expensive jeans pre-worn in all the right places, Portrait of a Lady comes out of the bottle already broken in. Even when freshly applied, it smells comfortably lived-in. There's no lag time between hitting the skin and shrinking to fit.

And the fit is universal, according to Portrait of a Lady's many dedicated male wearers. Some think Frédéric Malle has painted himself into a girly corner with the name, but for those men loving the Lady on themselves, might I suggest an alternate pronunciation: “Portrait of a Laddie”?

A couple hours after liberally spritzing myself with this at the Barneys perfume counter, I was browsing at a nearby mall when a young woman near me gasped, "What perfume are you wearing? It smells beautiful!" (She really did gasp: a genuine, pearls-clutching gasp.)

You'd think this happens to me all the time, given the amount of juice in which I regularly marinate, but it doesn't. I filled her in on the details, and she confidently told me that her mother probably owned it, since she was a fragrance nut with “800 bottles of perfumes.” I just as confidently responded that I was sure her mother didn't own it, being as Portrait of a Lady had only been available for about 2 minutes, practically.

Like something out the Marshall McLuhan scene in Woody Allen's Annie Hall, the young woman's cell phone rang, and it was her mother. After bringing her mom up to speed on our chance meeting, she handed the phone over to me. Yes, Susan was a fumie. No, she did not have 800 bottles of perfume (“only about 200”). But yes, she was indeed the proud possessor of Portrait of Lady. Psych!

Even if you consider my fume ramblings an amusing diversion at best, take it from Susan — a lady who knows from perfume and is smart enough to train her lovely daughter to sniff out the good shizz: Portrait of a Lady is a must-smell, and a must-have. Malle says that in overseeing this Dominique Ropion creation, he was inspired by 80s-era Guerlain perfumes. Hearing that, I instantly thought: Nahema! Not that the two fragrances smell anything alike. Nahema is a proper adult perfume that smells like Maria Callas' dressing room after a long night: wilted rose bouquets, bowls of overripe fruit, and cigarettes stubbed out in half-drunk cocktails.

Portrait of a Lady is also a proper adult perfume, but it strips the hauteur from couture and renders luxury accessibly sensual. All that posh rose may be shot in high def, but filtered through the soft focus of benzoin, musk and oud, it becomes intimate, not intimidating.

But like Nahema, Portrait of a Lady is a swirl of sensation compressed into a halo that generously gives you all the credit for its worldly complexity. I'm thinking Portrait of a Lady just might be a Nahema for the new century.

Balenciaga Paris

...it's a bit "hands off the merchandise."

As the face of Balenciaga Paris, Charlotte Gainsbourg is the very personification of a wealthy waif. Lean of limb and mussed of hair, Charlotte combines expensive lingerie with a coolly appraising stare, making you think, "whatever she's having, I'll take two!"

Even though the lovely bottle of Balenciaga Paris perches right in front of her on a lily pad in the fountain, I don't think that's what's giving Charl her mojo. She may look reserved, but that's merely a disguised warrior stance while she decides your fate. On the other hand, Balenciaga Paris smells reserved, because it is. It's positively pursed-lipped. I kept waiting for its sheer violet and wan woods to fight off the shivers and walk in the sunshine, but it never did. But like a waif in expensive lingerie, context is everything. Just as I was about to dismiss this eau de parfum, up popped a comment on my YouTube channel from viewer konrox: