How is it that the most romantic time I've ever had in Paris are the two days last September when I wandered its streets happily alone? The unexpected, golden heat of summer's final flare-up had something to do with it, as did the absence of “to-do's” to be sternly ticked off a list. And there was the dramatic contrast with my previous visits over the years: one tense and joyless with a soon-to-be ex, the next ruined by a new boyfriend's unwarranted jealousy and my violent food poisoning, and the last frayed by another boyfriend's stubborn insistence that his dirty dancing with the drunken lady at my friend's fancy wedding did not in any way overstep the bounds of propriety. (Although I admit that his terpsichorean insult was somewhat mitigated by my moment of girl talk with Joan Collins at said fancy wedding.)
I'm familiar with two tuberoses in Serge Lutens' line: the nominal Tubéreuse Criminelle, and the possibly misnamed Cèdre. Tubéreuse Criminelle has now come to the States, and thanks to my enabler Steve at Scent Bar, I’ve been hitting my sample pretty hard.
When you encounter something beautiful-ugly, the line between jolie and laide typically blurs before your eyes. Beautiful-ugly isn’t conventionally pretty, it’s compelling -- and Tubéreuse Criminelle is a perfect example. There’s warm, salty rubber. There’s a chilly, mothball/medicinal edge. The topnotes amplify these sordid aspects of tuberose. It’s jarring. Huge notes of fleshy rubber and decay, odors that you might detect faintly from an actual tuberose flower (but certainly not at this volume), pull you into what seems like the very center of the flower.
I've mentioned biehl.parfumkunstwerke gs02 to you a few times, worn it a bunch, and I think I love it. It's my new favorite perfume, even though I bought it a year ago. There's a dominant smell that makes me feel good about my place in the world (and, believe me, that's quite an achievement for a single smell), but I don't know what it is. I'd assumed it was tonka bean, because of gs02's resemblance to other things with tonka bean, but I'm not entirely sure. I desperately want you to tell me what I'm smelling when I get all giddy every time I spray it on.
I'm hosting a fragrance event at Scent Bar, and you're all invited! And by "event" I mean "Katie lolling around Scent Bar like an unrepentant barfly, knocking back greedy whiffs of too many perfumes, and hashing out the possibilities inherent in each and every bottle with her fellow barflies." So yes, an event! I would be tickled the most delicious shade of hot pink if you'll join me at my happy place for an afternoon of sniffing and chatting. Scent Bar Master of Ceremonies Steve will be keeping the party percolating with bubbly drinks and crunchy comestibles.
As a brand, Vera Wang stands for virgin-bride purity. My own wedding dress incorporated a Vera Wang high-necked lace blouse -- very lovely, although I don't think it had the power to restore my virginal purity. However, judging from the blandness of some of Vera Wang's perfume offerings, I suspect that purity restoration -- or preservation -- is a tacit goal.
You know how you sometimes skip a few meals, you go long hours without eating, and you finally start feeling like you're making progress on that last fifteen pounds you want to lose? (Contrary to the laws of grammar, the second person in this sentence refers to me and not to you.) And then, bam, you eat half a pie?
For the entire month of November, Le Labo offers its City Exclusives for purchase worldwide. As the last minutes of the last day of the 11th month tick by for adrenaline-charged, online-shopping fumeheads to score a bottle of New York (Tubereuse 40), say, or Dallas (Aldehyde 44), here's an overview of the exclusives I've had a chance to wear.
Poivre 23 -- London Exclusive by Annick Ménardo
I'm reconsidering my original position (in my Vanille 44 review) that Poivre 23 is “a pepper mill overkill.” The intervening years have seen me taking too many hits off the hard stuff (Guerlain Nahéma, LesNez Manoumalia) or the weird stuff (Byredo M/Mink, Miller Harris L'Air de Rien), so perfumes that once overstimulated my ragged nerve endings now seem perfectly well-mannered. (Just the kind of increasing tolerance my junior high health teacher warned against in that “Just Say No” lecture.)
“As for women, I have always found that the one I was in love with smelled good, and the more copious her sweat the sweeter I found it.”
So wrote original man-about-town Casanova in his memoirs, The Story of My Life. The 18th century seducer, swindler, diplomat, alchemist, and all-around roister-doisterer is back to school a new generation of swingers through an exhibition of his writings at the National Library of France. The show, entitled "Casanova -- The Passion for Freedom", displays the original manuscript of his tell-all memoirs for the first time ever, reports the New York Times.
Here's an opportunity to shop for a great cause: the BeautyBloggers.org annual charity auction. For the second year in a row, beauty bloggers and brands have joined forces for an online auction benefiting Doctors Without Borders. Doctors Without Borders is an international medical humanitarian organization providing independent, impartial assistance in nearly 70 countries to people suffering the consequences of violence, neglect or catastrophe.
Check out the press release for Humiecki & Graef Blask:
"BLASK, a fragrance about trust. BLASK is a Polish word that means glow, brilliance, glory and glamour, the shine of the sun and the gleam of moonlight. The dry, savory tang of bay leaf oil together with the full, elegant body notes of rich red wine and a woody walnut note give a deep, solid sense of maturity and intimacy. BLASK is a warm, alluring fragrance that virtually strokes the skin, exuding a compelling, haptic sensuality."
How do we feel about this? About having our skin "virtually stroked"?
Nostalgia is not the same as retro. Retro is light role-playing with stylistic imagery. The danger is that it can appear authentic without in fact being genuine. Nostalgia has its dangers as well: when a notion of the past becomes more desirable than the experience of the present. But in order to understand nostalgia, sometimes we must embrace it.
I embrace nostalgia for the following: 1) The idealized dream of the pre-AIDS gay urban 1970s. 2) New York's affordable art scene (cheap lofts, cheap rent, cheap social life, non-targeted creativity), which effectively ended in the 1970s. 3) The rose chypre.
Aftelier Perfumes' tagline is “Modern Natural Luxury,” and with Secret Garden and Oud Louban, perfumer Mandy Aftel delivers more two fine examples of her swellegant specialty.
Secret Garden parfum
I'd say this particular secret garden was originally planted in the tropics, what with its humid, candied jasmine. If that showgirl Fracas ever hauled her feather-festooned hindquarters out of the theatre dressing room for a skip in the fresh air, she might smell like Secret Garden during its bright, happy overture. But after about 20 minutes curing on the skin, Secret Garden's damp sweetness swaps places with a salty spiciness, and any remaining sugar is recast as an intimate honey.
Okay, I'm getting to know BLOOD Concept B and, I don't know, it's sort of standoffish in the same way BLOOD Concepts A, AB and O are. I definitely smell some patchouli, and the apple is right out front. But it's not a friendly apple. It's an apple preserved in a dry-ice container, in a cryonics lab. It's the smell of something that once was alive but now is cold and stiff.
I first encountered Bertrand Duchaufour's newly-released Mon Numéro series at L'Artisan Parfumeur's Printemps boutique in Paris in September. My advance research had lead to me to anticipate Numéro 10 the most feverishly, built as it is around my ever-lovin' solids: incense and amber. But as I huffed and puffed my way across the collection, it was Numéro 8 that had my number.
Right out of the bottle, off the nozzle, on the strip, Numéro 8 smells personal, like it has already been living on a beautiful body for some while. It's a sophisticated floral musk that pushme-pullsyou between elegant, withholding iris and the round-heeled trio narcissus, cassie and mimosa: flowers with a mammalian pong and minds in the gutter.
Monsieur Balmain by Balmain isn’t so much a scent as it is the hologram of a perfect lemon emanating from a bright yellow perfume bottle. It’s a cheeky, fun and deceptively simple fragrance that stands as an excellent bookend to those ponderous woody orientals brooding in the back of your cabinet.
According to the Balmain website, ingredients include mint, lemon, bitter orange, verbena, bergamot, petitgrain, rose, pepper, ginger, nutmeg, rosemary, thyme, moss, sandalwood, vetiver, sage, cedar and amber. But you can forget about all of that right now, because this scent is simply zesty lemon rind and bright acid that dries down hours later to a dusky pith note. It’s as joyous and invigorating as being woken up by sunlight.
The clip may be from Funny or Die, but the Snooki perfume is terrifyingly real. (Remember to refer to it by its full handle, "Snooki by Nicole Polizzi," or Snooki may smush you.) The Jersey Shore star told Elle.com
"My perfume doesn’t discriminate. I pretty much designed it for the whole female race. I mean, who wouldn’t want to smell fruity and sexy but flirty at the same time? It’s a young, clean scent."
Listed notes include "chilled lychee, quince flower, kiwi, pink cupcake accord, white jasmine, beach flower, seaside driftwood and sugared musk."
I'm getting "young" and "fruity" out of that, but I don't know about "sexy" or "clean." I may have to resign from the female race.
Available November 25th from Perfumania.com at $45 for 3.3 oz
I've been enduring some difficult days of perfume sampling, my worst stretch in a long time. Yesterday was my introduction to the BLOOD Concept line and so yesterday was terrible. First I tried O, which is primarily raspberry and leather and that cheeky metallic note (because it's blood, get it?). It's like someone superimposed the Teletubbies onto a James Dean movie.
Bottega Veneta Eau de Parfum is a sophisticated leather/apricot chypre that blends niche sensibility with accessibility. As the debut fragrance from the luxe leather goods firm, Bottega Veneta EdP is said to embody the house signature: "invisible, private luxury." As "invisible" is sadly the only flavor of luxury I'm currently experiencing in my life, I'm not averse to something showier in my scents. But BV does provide plenty of plushness to give everyone within sniffing distance a snootful of the good life.
I'm always cheered by the appearance of a pretty perfume or credible cologne at the mass market level. Usually, if the bottle or the face on the magazine ad resonates with the young 'uns, it barely seems to matter that the fragrance itself is 1.7 fluid oz of cynical slop. So when Dominique Ropion's perfume for The Body Shop, Love Etc..., turned out to be a successful marriage of high/low (high quality/low price, that is, rather than the more usual reverse) I was as pleased as a tickled pink pony.
Love Etc... is the perfume I regularly recommend to girls looking for something low-key but flirty-girly. And because it's so beautifully calibrated, with the grassy/anise tang of tarragon adding interest, it works for grown-up girls looking for something soft and comforting -- and not too heavy.
I'm adding Love Etc...to my Body Shop hot list, which includes White Musk for Men and Moroccan Rose. And although it's not technically a perfume, I love the smell of the Body Shop's Hemp line.
Fumies, care to share your Body Shop success stories?
The email pinged into my inbox: “Come to Paris to smell Bottega Veneta's debut perfume and meet le nez Michel Almairac. Can you leave the day after tomorrow?”
Michel Almairac, creator of quality fare such as Gucci Rush, Armani Privé Bois d'Encens, Burberry for Women, Bond No. 9 Fire Island and Gucci pour Homme? Bottega Veneta, purveyor of luxury leather goods and apparel? Paris, location of Paris? Um, okay!
A few days and more than a few cafe au laits later, I roll up for the BV event at the Bristol Hotel, where lonelyhearted Taylor Lautner fans pine politely from across the street. The Twilight star is in town to promote Identity Secrete (as Abduction is billed in France), and it seems that the Bristol is his Paris bolthole. As much as I'd like an excuse to explore the Bristol's contemporary take on old world elegance, I've got no time to stalk movie star boys -- I've got a perfumer to meet. (Ryan Gosling is the only screen throb who could seriously interfere with my fragrance duties, anyway.)
People who are stimulated and inspired by perfume usually have more than a few other louche interests on the go. With the portals to sybarite pleasures thrown wide open, why stop at fragrance? Elena from Perfume Shrine recognized this by inviting a group of fume bloggers to share their fall favorites across the sensory spectrum.
Does makeup count as a sensory discovery? In my book (admittedly an absurd, rather disjointed book) it does. I'm absolutely twitterpated over the Burberry Beauty line after I had a chance to fully explore it when I was at Harrods in London three weeks ago. My initiation was the Lip Glow lipgloss in Brick Red, which I think is THE perfect terracotta/coral/rose (the red in this particular brick is well-faded by the sun). I'd scored it at the South Coast Plaza Nordstrom, which is one of only eight stores in the US that carries the Burberry Beauty line.
The day I scored my sample of Someday, the fragrance fronted by teen-scream-dream-hot-lesbian-hairdo-on-a-stick Justin Bieber, I was in a Sephora swarming with wild-eyed 11 year olds. Several moms were bringing in groups of girls for a tween day out, and the kids were busy inventing unholy new applications for Nars Night Porter eyeshadow, Orgasm blush, and Vulva lipgloss. (Okay, so there's not really a Vulva lipgloss...not yet, anyway.)
In a gleefully sinister ritual straight out of a 70s horror movie, the girls were gathered around one of the mothers, intently coloring in her face as she knelt obediently in the aisle.
“Make her lips black!” shrieked one of the would-be Suspiria extras.
“Put that bright green on her cheeks!” squealed another.
I've been alternately wearing Helmut Lang Eau De Cologne and Eau De Parfum for several days now and I finally have something to say. Of course, at this stage of my emails, I always think I have something to say and I'm frequently wrong. But I won't let that discourage me.
My response to both was one of surprise, in that they're more opulent than I'd expect from Helmut Lang, and yet more restrained than I'd expect from Maurice Roucel. They smell like Maurice Roucel fragrances art-directed by Helmut Lang. Which I guess shouldn't be surprising at all. (I told you I might have nothing to say.)
You can smell any one of several Roucel perfumes and understand precisely his nature: he's a willful, uncompromising dude with a big aromatic appetite. Hell, you can tell that just from looking at his picture. (That is not the mustache of a man with discrete tastes.)
I've been AWOL for the past few weeks, owing to trips to Paris, London, and perhaps a little less Liz-tastically, Virginia. I'm now freshly back in the perfume saddle (after several running starts aided by a springboard), and you and I have got a lot of catching up to do.
Then there are the other new perfumes I've been swooning over: L'Artisan Parfumeur Mon Numero 8 and Miller Harris' La Fumée and La Pluie.
And while in London, I was treated to Lush's signature Synaesthesia treatment, which incorporated a delicious mind-and-muscle-melting blur of scent, color, sound and massage. Reports on all of the above are forthcoming.
Thank you, cherished fumies, for continuing to journey with me on the good ship Katie Puckrik Smells.
Katie Puckrik Smells is on tour! I was in Paris last week to meet the creator of Bottega Veneta's beautiful debut perfume, Michel Almairac, and will soon be reporting on the man and his smell (well, not his smell, but you know what I mean). Now I'm in London, and as time is limited, I've been doing turbo-swoops in every perfume shop I've passed.
My personal favorite of everything I've tried is one of L'Artisan Parfumeur's new Mon Numéro series: No. 8. Loveeeeeeeee, as the children would say. It's shower day plus one: slightly lived-in iris, rose, coriander, carrot, musk and vanilla. It's the posh, understated, less powdery version of Love, Chloé. More on that later.
Yesterday, I popped into the HQ of sassy-frassy style website Beauty and the Dirt. I'm one of their regular contributors, and wanted to say howdy to overlord (overlady?) Krista Madden, as well as to the kids in the office. And by "kids", I'm including the multitudes of bottles of perfume crowding Krista's desk. Krista took advantage of my stunned reaction to her haul by pouncing with the idea of doing a quick fragrance video.
I grabbed a hodgepodge of fumes to discuss -- some old familiars, others new favorites, still others the fragrance version of Brief Encounter: sniffed in passing, never to be smeared on skin again.
The menu for this picnic of perfumes is as follows:
Clinique Aromatics Elixir Perfumer's Reserve
Costume National PoP Collection
Le Labo Neroli 36
Orla Kiely
Kim Kardashian
And thanks to my butterfingered clumsiness, the Beauty and the Dirt office will never stop smelling of Aromatics Elixir. Hoo boy. I did manage to snag the gorgeous Aromatics 40th anniversary bottle and solid perfume, which makes me very happy. Especially the solid perfume, which delivers a muted version of AE's full orchestration.
I love Candy (and candy, little c, too!) -- it's a melt into your skin caramel perfume that manages to be sensual as opposed to "oops, I spilled my dessert down my décolletage!" (Although that probably scores high on the sensuality charts, depending on the dessert and the décolletage.)
When I first smelled Prada Candy on my skin, I said “oh wow”, mind-blown-hippie-style. I wasn't expecting the cajeta caramel, with its beasty, milky niff.
To be a fumehead in this early 21st century without having a few bottles of sugary sweetness in your collection is like being the person who lives in an 18th century house and resolutely eschews all modern trappings, like electricity...or indoor plumbing. Not that I'm saying only wearing vintage Femme and Shalimar is the equivalent of using a chamber pot (although some teenage critics may disagree), but by now, we've been living through enough chapters of the Juicebox Chronicles for the dulcet charms of gourmands to tempt even the most hardened chypre loyalist.
Whether you're a defender of the Vintage Empire or an avid collector of My Little Pony with a sugar rush perfume collection to match, Givenchy Organza Indécence has plenty to offer. It's a vanilla puff of orange and spice and honey, with an insinuating curl of incense to give it some backbone. The Vintage Empirists will dig the dusty woods, and the My Little Ponies will squeal over the orange-vanilla festival.
I just won a bottle Helmut Lang Eau de Cologne on eBay!!! Why am I so excited? Tell me why I'm so excited.
Dan
Dan,
You're excited because Helmet Lang Eau de Cologne is fabled and discontinued. And because it sounds like a great mix of stuff you like (rosemary, lavender, jasmine, heliotrope, lily-of-the-valley, rose, sandalwood, patchouli, musk and cedar).
I interviewed Happy Days icon Henry Winkler for The Guardian a couple of days ago on the happy occasion of his being made an honorary OBE (Officer of the Order of the British Empire) by Her Majesty the Queen.
I was urged to tackle Le Labo Rose 31 by fumie Aimee Cox. As she wrote to me:
I am in love with Rose 31, but find that when I wear it, people either want to make out with me or kick my ass. I'm interested in hearing your articulation of this haunting -- and seemingly polarizing -- smell.
Making out vs. ass-kicking: that's polarizing, all right. No equatorial equanimity for those in Aimee's Rose 31 orbit, it would appear. I do my level best to tease apart the love-in/punch-out appeal of Le Labo's most popular offering in my video review, above.
You've got some fine perfumes coming your way, sounds like. L'Instant de Guerlain pour Homme is just beautiful. I was wearing it a couple of days ago. Here's how I've described it in my Fume Finder app:
"Rich and fresh at the same time, L'Instant pour Homme opens on effervescent cream soda with a lemon twist, meanders though grassy anise, then settles into sheer sandalwood. Assured and relaxed.”
Katie
Katie,
Returning from my run, I came upon a box of perfumes at my door. And I'm never happier than at these moments. Which speaks both for my love of perfume and the paltriness of my life. That aside, I've sprayed my sweaty arms up and down and this is my first quick observation (which will surely change over time):
Guerlain Anisia Bella: Some people complain about the anise in this, but I can barely smell it. It's a fresh spicy citrus, vaguely feminine but not interesting enough to be any more feminine than that.
These are supposedly starter Guerlains, but this one specifically smells like a starter for the Hermès Jardins collection. Which don't require starters. Still, it's pretty and probably fine for summer.
Dior Homme: The bottle is nice! The fragrance? I don't quite understand these modern masculines. They all smell similarly to me. This one feels substantial, like something a man would wear to a business dinner, but a business dinner at which there is no joking around and everyone is too nervous to be hungry.
Thankfully, it doesn't seem to possess that sleazy guy's aquatic-cologne smell and yet I can't help thinking this is what the sleazy aquatic guy's dad wears. Maybe this is the new reformulated version?
L'Instant de Guerlain pour Homme: Easily the winner among the three. I've smelled the L'Instant part of my arm at least twice as often as I've smelled the other parts. It's a citrus with substance. It's the rare fragrance that reminds me of summer and yet doesn't remind me of summer when I was 17 years old.
It's light and smooth and hopefully hints at fabulous summers to come. When the best thing about my day won't be seeing a box of perfumes at my door. This is what I'm wearing post-shower.
Dan
P.S. L'Instant de Guerlain update (pour Homme, of course, though I guess you never know with me): I've had it on all night and the citrus left hours and hours ago. It's a smooth, rich sandalwood with a similar trajectory as Gravel. Though L'Instant is deeper and more enduring.
Gravel could be labeled the cologne version of L'Instant and no one would bat an eye. Except maybe to say "the cologne version of L'Instant isn't quite as good." Duh, it's cologne, why would it be as good? Now I'm arguing with imaginary people and their opinions over an imaginary relationship between two different fragrances. Have I gone down the perfume rabbit hole?
Anyway, L'Instant is very, very nice and I've smelled seriously good all night. You're a gem for recommending it.
Dan,
L'Instant pour Homme! Yes! Love that eternal sandalwood drydown. It's so smooth and rich, as you've noted, and also friendly and generous and not too tricksy.
Katie
Katie,
I can't believe how long L'Instant carried on, and not in a fake cheap musk way (the perfume equivalent of hair extensions), but with that warm sandalwood, which somehow seemed to get warmer as time passed. It started out a little quirky and then turned into a fragrance of real substance.
Shalimar Parfum Initial is the latest version of Guerlain's pretty, pettable warhorse (My Little War Pony?), Shalimar. The original Shalimar is crème brûlée vanilla with smoky chamois leather and a citrus twist. Shalimar Parfum Initial features Shalimar's citrus, rose, iris, vanilla and tonka, but paints a different picture with them. It's much more transparent than the original, it doesn't have Shalimar's spicy cinnamon side, and it's a LOT less powdery.
I went to Le Labo to smell the sample bottle they had of their Chicago exclusive, Baie Rose 26. I like it! It's a rosier, softer Rose 31, and it smells great on my skin.
The listed ingredients are rose, pimento berries, cloves, cedar, pepper, aldehydes, ambrox and musk. It's slightly metallic/salty, with plenty of dirty spice, but not as up front as in Rose 31. It boils down to a salt'n'pepper musky rose. The aldehydes are sharp and chemical-y, but it's appealing, in a harsh kind of way. It has some of the engaging weirdness of Frédéric Malle Dans tes Bras.
Ambre Narguilé was the only one of Hermès Hermèssencesssssss that grabbed me when I first read the descriptions of the line. Just look at this role-call of listed ingredients: benzoin, labdanum, musk, vanilla, caramel, honey, tonka bean, grilled sesame seeds, cinnamon, rum, coumarin and white orchids. No wonder I was tweakin'. I was a fully-fledged amber bunny those years ago, with my high rotation choices ping-ponging between Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan, Tom Ford Amber Absolute, L’Orientaliste Ambre and Le Labo Labdanum 18, among others. (For the full list of my amber conquests, consult my review of Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114.)
I ended up using your Fume Finder to purchase a whole bunch of perfume, and it turns out that one's mainstream dollar goes a lot further than one's niche dollar. I don't know most of them and you make everything sound so good. (And, yes, I have a problem.)
I know, I know: I'm the last perfume nerd on the block to know about Guerlain's annual limited edition Muguet perfume, released the first day of every May to tie in with the French tradition of offering a few sprigs of lily-of-the-valley as a good luck charm. But here's my excuse: I've been busy with a decade-long incense orgy that's just wrapping up now-ish. And here's my bonus excuse: Guerlain didn't issue a 2010 edition.
But it's August 2011 and the time for excuses is over, because I have experienced Muguet 2011 and am filled with slobbering, swooning love for it. Apparently, the interpretation is slightly different every year it's released, and judging from the choir-of-angels hallucination I experienced in my squirrelly little brain when I first wore it, this vintage is a doozy. I knew I was a goner when I tried it at the Saks' Guerlain counter the other week, and then did about seven unnecessary circuits of the cosmetics floor in order to spritz on more with each drive-by. I could tell by the counter jockey's ever-souring expression that I was being demoted from “valued customer” to “flagrant freeloader” with each pass.
When I was in my 20s and living in London, my friend Georgie used to make fun of me for “matching” my food. She noticed that I'd pair my Swiss Miss instant hot chocolate orange cocoa with chocolate orange candy straws, and did the same with hot chocolate mint cocoa and chocolate mint candy straws. And there was also the matter of my insisting on butterscotch sauce with butterscotch ice cream.
I'd countered that the Brits were no strangers to food matching with their famous chip butty. For the blissfully uninitiated, a chip butty is a greasy pile of steak fries between two slices (or three!) of white bread. In other words, starch on starch.
The simple act of wearing a fragrance you love does so many positive things. When you customize your smellscape, everything clicks: your heart's a little happier, your mojo's working, you feel rrrr-OWW! Perfume is a portable bubble of joy.
And you know what else is a portable bubble of joy? Fume Finder -- the new mobile web app that puts my favorite scent recommendations at your fingertips. Fume Finder works on mobile web devices like iPhone, iPad and Android, as well as on regular computers. For a complete list, click here. (Note: Fume Finder looks best on a mobile device. If you're using a desktop, shrink the browser window for a better viewing experience.)
Shalimar can't ever, ever, ever be worn by a man, can it? There are times when I go on about fragrances having no gender boundaries and how people perceive things differently when they smell them on men versus women and how I can wear anything at any time, I'm completely free when it comes to perfume (though, let's face it, only then). And then I try something like Shalimar and I shut up in a hurry.
I got this message on YouTube from someone called BlackWid0w:
"I have been wearing Le 3ème Homme de Caron (The Third Man) and absolutely loving it. I guess it a man's fragrance, but I love it on my skin (am female). I first read about it on your blog, so thanks for turning me on to it."
The thing is, Dan, you were the one who turned her on to it, extolling its charms in a blog post a year ago, while I've let the decant you sent me languish. Until now. Inspired by BlackWid0w, I'm wearing The Third Man right this moment and enjoying it greatly.
The happiest, grassiest, flower meadow scent ever!
Flora Nymphea is the only one out of Guerlain's ongoing Aqua Allegoria series that I've smelled and instantly gone, "Wow! That's pretty!”
It's the happiest, grassiest, flower meadow scent ever.
It turns out that Flora Nymphea's buoyant orange blossom plus honey equals a wonderfully youthful and exhilarating perfume, especially for spring and summer. Or if you want to pretend it's spring and summer. Or if you want to pretend you're youthful and exhilarating.
Basically, Flora Nymphea can smooth out a lot of rough spots, both with the weather and your life. It's kind of a full-service perfume.
What's your take on Guerlain L'Heure Bleue? Wikipedia says it's akin to Après l'Ondée, though less bright and more melancholic. (Can you believe I'm going to Wikipedia before I go to you? I can't either.) I like Après l'Ondée very much, and even its modern cousin, L'Eau d'Hiver, which I've been wearing steadily since buying a bottle at the Frédéric Malle event. But I find Après l'Ondée melancholic enough. Do I need to smell more melancholic? Is L'Heure Bleue eleven on the melancholy amplifier? Just typing that last question made me excited; what does that say about me?
L'Agent, Agent Provocateur's latest bodice ripper of a perfume, might be also considered a codpiece ripper. (Hey -- careful where you're ripping, lady!) This edible, drinkable, smearable leather, with its muscular blend of ylang-ylang, apricot, rose and chocolatey patchouli, is decadence a go-go no matter the gender of the smeared skin.
I find L'Agent shares a kinship with dense, savory-sweet orientals like Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison, Laura Mercier Minuit Enchanté, Amouage Memoir Woman and Chanel Coco Mademoiselle, but I like it better than all of those. In fact, I l'ove L'Agent! It's flowers in drag, jasmine in leather armor. It's a mesmerizing shimmy between liqueur and dustiness. It's torrid.
Old perfumes are the new niche, I've decided. My newest favorite perfume blog is Yesterday's Perfume, where Barbara Herman explores our collective cultural history as embodied in fragrance.
She writes in her profile: “We know what the past looks and sounds like, but do we know what it smells like?”
I'm fascinated by the scent of myrrh. This bittersweet balsam works a sticky, spicy mystery into some of my high rotation favorites: Diptyque L'Eau Trois, Prada No. 10 Myrrhe, Etro Messe de Minuit and Christian Dior Bois d'Argent. My fevered response to its resinous, scalpy smell marks me as a regular myrrh-maid.
So when I picked up on the myrrh in the beautifully-burred oriental skin scent that is Prada Amber pour Homme Intense, I was delighted -- and surprised. Mainstream fragrances rarely feature such ancient embellishments.
Amber PH Intense also features another Queen of Sheba pop pick: labdanum, especially noticeable in the long fadeout. Both labdanum and myrrh are soft here, easing the powdered cocoa patchouli into a cushy situation that hovers close to the body while inviting closer inspection from interested parties.
And interested parties might be interested to know that Amber PH Intense isn't really too pour homme at all: labdanum and myrrh-loving femmes are encouraged to give this one a spin, too.
Amber pour Homme Intense is available at Sephora.com, starting at $55 for 1.7 oz
For more on Prada Amber pour Homme Intense, click here.
Christophe Laudamiel, perfumer behind Humiecki & Graef Skarb, S-Perfume S-ex, and Tom Ford Amber Absolute, as well as innovative concepts like ScentOpera and Thierry Mugler's coffret inspired by Patrick Suskind's Perfume, discusses how to assess the quality of a perfume.
The clip comes from Big Think, a YouTube “knowledge forum” featuring "the ideas, lessons, stories and advice of leading experts from around the world."
Laudamiel discusses one the rarest things in perfumery: the invention of new structures, and touches on what makes a fragrance smell cheap.
I like that Laudamiel says that it's important for the consumer to be aware of the variable nuances within “interesting” and hack stuff alike so that they can make informed choices on the perfumes they buy. You'd never hear someone from the corporate side of a perfume house imploring customers to assess the actual quality of their luxury products before they purchase!
If the perfume-buying public actively rejects shoddy creations as they become more educated, perhaps perfumers working for the big houses will get leeway to create challenging fragrances with better raw materials. A pie-in-the-sky wish, I know...
Thanks to Nathan Branch for alerting me to this wonderful clip.
It was with a sense of fumie duty rather than frothing anticipation that I approached Love, Chloé by Chloé. Requests for review were tumbling in on my YouTube channel, so I grudgingly obliged by spritzing my Nordstorm sample and poising fingers over the keyboard, waiting to be underwhelmed. Chloé eau de toilette, eau de parfum and Intense (which I'd liked the best of the three) had lulled me into a soapy rose stupor, and I'd assumed Love, Chloé was bound to be a snoozy harmony on the same old tune.
Wrong. Wrong! The cool new bottle holds a cool new fume, created by Louise Turner and Nathalie Gracia-Cetto, and built around violety iris and powdery rice. It is incredibly beautiful. The story goes that Love, Chloé is inspired by the scent of old-fashioned face powder, and that is charmingly apparent as the first few wafts lift off the skin.
You can be a scent connoisseur till the cows come home, proclaiming your dedication to the art, to the thrill of truffling out a rare vintage bottle, to the challenge of successfully wearing that Comme des Garçons smoked-wellington boot-and-pikake/ozone limited edition. But no matter how snobbish...errm, discerning you are, you'll still bloom with shy delight when a hotsy-totsy someone compliments you on great you smell.
I find the most successful open-for-business fragrances are ones that enhance or blend with your own natural scent. Like you can't help it, you just happen to smell irresistible.
On a recent stop by the studios of San Diego Fox 5 morning news, I talked to anchor Shally Zomorodi about three different men's “attraction scents”:
Gendarme by Gendarme -- stealth attraction scent
Bare skin on the beach. This gentle blend of transparent jasmine and clean, soapy musk makes your skin smell “naturally” excellent.
Dan Rolleri attended Frédéric Malle's June 17th event at Barneys San Francisco.
Katie,
Frédéric Malle was such a fabulous speaker and a real presence in Barney's dank perfume basement. He has actual star appeal.
A young man asked Frédéric his thoughts about layering. At first he said, "I only recommend it if the person doing the layering is very skilled." Then he said he's smelled many attempts at layering and "they're never very skilled. It always smells awful."
Dan Rolleri attended Frédéric Malle's June 17th event at Barneys San Francisco.
Katie,
Let me go on record as saying that Frédéric Malle is the most intelligent, charming fellow in the world. He took time to answer every question, he was completely candid, slightly pretentious but always with a little smile or a comic roll of the eyes, he was just such a delight. Frédéric Malle is a delight, how about that!
He was wearing a smart blue linen suit, kind of a cool cobalt blue, and I kept thinking I could never get away with wearing a blue linen suit, not with my American build. I'd look like a bull wearing a tablecloth. But on Frédéric, it worked beautifully.
Father's Day is June 19th, and by now, Dad probably already has all the ties and slippers he'll ever need. So why not a treat he might not think to buy himself: a new cologne! But how to match the scent to the man? I discussed this very topic the other day with San Diego Fox 5's Raoul Martinez. One of the many ways Raoul has endeared himself to me over a year's worth of visits to the Fox 5 morning news show is his sincere interest in my little bag of tricks.
Fragrances, people! I'm talking about fragrances! After my segment is over, he'll always go in for another sniff from the bottles I've brought, and ask a few more questions.
This time around, he was really taken with Donna Karan Fuel for Men. Fuel for Men is one of my recent enthusiasms, and even my fume-o-shrug husband has adopted it as a signature scent (if a lackadaisical spray once a week counts as a “signature scent.”)
Raoul was clearly gingered up by his encounter with Fuel for Men's cool, smooth gasoline/leather/sandalwood blend, so I spontaneously gifted him with the bottle. Let's just see if I can smell it on him the next time I visit the newsroom!
I chose the Eau de Dad fragrances discussed in the clip for their thematic relationship to he-man endeavors:
My Frédéric Malle Le Parfum de Thérèse arrived and, I must say, I've been quite pleased with my recent reckless purchases. Especially these Malles. My frame of reference on classic chypres is narrow, and I've never tried Diorella, but to me Le Parfum de Thérèse smells similar to the MDCI chypres, a little less peachy, a little more jasmine-y, but equally complex and feminine. Plus, it was a little more than one-third the price of the MDCIs, so bonus points all around.
Although reflecting on our bit about people wearing perfumes intended for the opposite sex, I wonder how many of my perfumes will be made obsolete the moment I settle in with one woman. Because I don't imagine any woman would want me smelling like Rita Hayworth. And I wouldn't blame her.
As we inch towards the summer solstice on June 21th, wood sprites and pixies everywhere are dusting off their magic bells and curly-toed booties in readiness for midsummer. Okay, so maybe I'm hazy on the particulars of faerie beings, but I can say with absolute confidence that Annick Goutal Le Mimosa's sunny festival of mimosa, grass, peach and musk is the just the thing to make you feel supernaturally scrumptious.
The lucky winner (randomly chosen using the futuristic computer wizardry of Random.org) of a brand new bottle of Le Mimosa in my Twitter giveaway is beth001. Congratulations, Beth!!! Please private message me on Twitter at www.twitter.com/katiepuckrik with your mailing address.
Thanks to everyone who entered, and stay tuned for more giveaways!
Update -- winner Beth shared this tale of devotion to all things Goutal with me:
Last summer I accompanied my husband on a business trip of his to Europe. I had never been to Paris before. I had done some perfume research beforehand and was overjoyed to find an Annick Goutal boutique on the Champs Élysées. The SA was a love & helped me select two beautiful perfumes. I packed them extremely carefully in my checked luggage for our return trip. Both of our suitcases made it safely from Paris to NYC, but when we arrived at the Buffalo airport -- mine didn't come off the plane.
I was heartbroken! All I could think about was my French perfume! Not my clothing, not my shoes, not my souvenirs, not my travel books. I was frantic over my Annick Goutal! Luckily, my suitcase, perfume intact, was delivered to my house the next day. And then I found out you can order it all online here, lol.
I was just wondering: what exactly makes a fragrance smell "cheap"?
I just purchased a little bottle of Lady Stetson (Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez's advice has seldom led me astray), and...in spite of my excitement over embracing something that is dismissed by "snobs", I have to admit that I do think it smells cheap. But...why? Maybe I'll change my mind later, but right now I'm thinking Walgreen's Clearance.
I've been banging on about Annick Goutal Le Mimosa ever since I featured it in my Favorite Spring Scents TV segment on Fox 5 San Diego back in March. I'm fascinated by how this sweet mimosa bouquet combines grassy freshness and the juiciest peach with the “frisky personal time” smells of musk and sandalwood. (For a full review, click here.)
There's no reason why Le Mimosa's splendor in the grass needs to stop now that we're moving into summer (here in the northern hemisphere, anyway!) That's why -- with the help of Rodrigo the Perfume Dog -- I'm giving away a brand-new bottle of Le Mimosa (courtesy of Annick Goutal.)
Here are giveaway details...
HOW TO ENTER:
You must be a follower to my Twitter channel: www.twitter.com/katiepuckrik
You don't have to be my YouTube subscriber, but how can you resist? You'll be in fine-smelling company!
Tweet or retweet the following:
Win a gorgeous summer #perfume - a bottle of Annick Goutal Le Mimosa! Details: http://tiny.cc/7w1r8 #kpsmells #giveaway #contest
You can retweet up to 10 times a day. If you tweet more than 10 times a day, those entries won't count.
I'll be tracking the hash #kpsmells for this contest. You can either tweet or retweet the entry. Both methods will work.
ENTRY DEADLINE:
Giveaway closes midnight PST June 15, 2011. The winner will be chosen by a random drawing, and announced on my blog, KatiePuckrikSmells.com and on my Twitter, twitter.com/katiepuckrik. I'll announce the winner no later than June 18, 2011.
NOTES FOR THE WINNER:
I will contact you with a private message on Twitter. Please private message me on my Twitter account with your mailing address. You must use your Twitter account.
If the winner does not claim their prize within two weeks of announcement, the perfume will go to a lucky stand-by winner.
This contest is international. Anyone can enter.
Reasonable care will be taken in the packaging and mailing of your prize, but if the contents are lost, damaged, or held up by Customs, I sincerely apologize in advance that I cannot replace it.
Customs policies vary from country to country. You may be subject to import duties and taxes, which are enforced once a shipment reaches your country. Charges for customs clearance must be paid by you. Unfortunately, I have no control over these charges.
Good luck, everyone!
Pssst -- don't miss Rodrigo's captivating shimmy dance at the end of the video....
During my years living in London in the 1990s, I was well aware of Emma Forrest (above, left) -- the young journalist who'd made a splash writing about music and pop culture in The Guardian and The London Sunday Times. The fact that she'd launched her writing career at age 16 was part of her novelty, but her deft and witty wordsmithery is the reason why she's still delivering the goods -- novels and screenplays now -- today.
Emma's latest work is Your Voice in My Head – a nimble and unsparing memoir detailing the aftermath of a nervous breakdown at age 21 (the downside of being an early bloomer, I guess), as well as a moving homage to the therapist who guided her through the dark woods of manic depression, bad boyfriends and self-harm.
I was hoping you could offer some recommendation for my perfume-virgin boyfriend. I love the way he smells after chainsawing a tree (with the lingering exhaust smell), but I am afraid that replicating this scent would be environmentally detrimental in the long term.
I also really like the smell of incense on him (Comme des Garçons Avignon is great), and he recently found he likes the earthy, grassy smell of vetiver. I think any fragrance for him would have to wear close to the skin since he is so used to smelling au naturale.
By the way, I have tried Le Labo Vetiver 46 and Tauer Perfumes Vetiver Dance on myself, but neither seem to be right. I would appreciate your brainstorming.
Have you ever had a problem with a vacuum cleaner, maybe something got stuck inside and suddenly everything was revving and rumbling and not working? And before you even realized you had sucked up a sock or that missing felt cat your mom sent you six years ago, you popped open the shell and were hit with the ominous smell of a burning vacuum belt, that hot, dusty, electrical smell and, oh, there's the felt cat, you must've misplaced it under the bed. Anyway, that's the smell of Demeter Rubber. And because I'd bought a Dyson I thought I'd never have to experience it again. So the joke's on me.
So check this out, KP. I returned from my run today to find the UPS man had left a package for me from Scented Monkey containing seven big bottles from the Demeter Fragrance Library. In all my years as a perfume enthusiast, I've never tried Demeter scents and I felt it was time.
Upon exiting the shower, I randomly decided to spray on Wet Garden and it turns out it smells exactly like CB I Hate Perfume's To See a Flower.
It's often pointless to talk about a perfume an hour after first applying it, but my Geranium pour Monsieur arrived today from Frédéric Malle and I'm just so baffled by it. It's like a post-modern Comme des Garçons scent for men with broad shoulders. It's minty and planty and herby out of the bottle but then it shifts into a cool sheen, like the little green plants hopped onto a space ship. So far, I'm loving it!
Blogger is on the fritz, and many of my fragrant readers are unable to leave their customary insightful comments. The problem seems to be with corrupt cookies and cache files. Blogger's technical elves are feverishly working out the snarls, but in the meantime, the elves recommend doing the following:
- Make sure you are running the latest version of your browser
- Clear BOTH your cookies and your browser cache
- Once your cookies and cache are cleared, shut down the browser
- Open the browser, and log back onto to your Google account
In the meantime, I've opened up the comments section to allow anonymous
posts, because KP Smells cannot thrive without your thoughts, deep and otherwise.
Thanks for your tolerance in this matter.
Painting: "Landscape With Broken Machine" by Stuart Davis
Natural perfumer Alec Lawless of UK's Essentially Me line will be leading two in-depth natural perfumery courses this July in New York City. Both courses will be taught at Manhattan's Open Centre, and will focus on creative and technical approaches to making fragrances from the finest natural aromatic ingredients available.
The sessions are offered as a comprehensive five-day Artisan Perfumery Course, with emphasis on creating fragrances for others, as well as the shorter Perfume Masterclass, which looks at the rules for blending simple and complex accords from different aroma families.
The courses are offered between July 9-24. For dates, times, prices and curriculum, go to the Essentially Me website.
Anyone who's read Lawless' accessible and entertaining book Artisan Perfumery, or Being Led by the Nose will know that he's a skilled and talented teacher and communicator -- with great stories about his world travels sourcing raw perfume ingredients. If only I were in New York City this July....
Whenever the topic of perfume comes up, there's always a lot of gum-flapping about the exact elixir to wear to attract the attention of those lovely young things you require in a swarm about your person at all times.
“Will she glom like a limpet to the hull of my manly ship if I smell sneezy-fresh?”
“Will he consume my olfactory aura in an ecstasy of delight if I pong of dew-dappled jasmine?”
Of course she/he will! is what you say, because it's nice to be encouraging. (However, I always like to qualify that to avoid future disappointment among all parties, it's best to let one's personality do the heavy lifting, and not the elixir.)
But taking all she's and he's and their need for sexual approval out of the equation, I recently witnessed a swarm of attractive young things around a perfectly inanimate bottle of Annick Goutal Le Mimosa.
The bottle wasn't trying to impress anyone, wasn't searching for a soulmate or a hookup. It had simply let forth a puff of its contents: mimosa with a big, juicy peach, fresh and grassy with a little bit of licorice, followed up by creamy muskiness and tangy sandalwood.
All Le Mimosa did was sit there and smell pretty, and suddenly a cluster of woman in the newsroom where I'd sprayed it for my recent “Spring Scents” TV segment gathered to pay homage with excited “Oohs!” “YUMs!” and “Can I try its?”
So much for personality. Let Le Mimosa bring the “Oohs!” while you stay pretty and vacant.
