The Body Shop White Musk for Men

White Musk for Men is my favorite Body Shop fragrance, and I relish its eminent nuzzleability. Nuzzleablity is not always a given for perfumes built around white musks, though, because even though its M.O. is supposedly kitty-tummy softness, this Miss Popularity of the Aromachemical Beauty Pageant can go from a whisper to a scream if overdosed. (As pretty as I find Stella, for instance, its white musk crushes my skull to powder as surely as the vise-like grip of a showgirl's thighs.) White Musk for Men can be filed under “Kitty Tummy” along with Le Labo Labdanum 18, Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114, IUNX No. 9 Eau Blanche, C.O. Bigelow Musk Oil, and the sadly discontinued Narciso Rodriquez Musc Oil for Her. Fumies, what are your top tips for purry white musk pleasure?

White Musk for Men is available from Amazon.com at $22 for 3.3 oz

Le Labo City Exclusives: Poivre 23 and Musc 25

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.)

Perfume Pen Pals: Helmut Lang Eau de Cologne and Eau de Parfum Part Two

Katie,

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.)

Perfume Pen Pals: Helmut Lang Eau de Cologne and Eau de Parfum Part One

Katie,

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).

Hermes Ambre Narguile

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.)

Perfume Pen Pals: Porny Perfume - What is Smut?

Katie,

I just looked up a perfume on the Invisible Magnet blog and got caught up in a "you should wear the opposite of your natural smell" conversation. Which turned out to be misremembered.

But it's an interesting concept (even if it doesn't exist), because supposedly, men smell sweeter than women and the onion smell that Invisible Magnet Liz says is her natural scent is supposedly the natural scent of most women. Which, I guess, is why sweeter scents might work better on them. Though I love those sweet By Kilians on me, sweet as I already am. I might be off my rocker, but I'm convinced I pull off Love and Liaisons Dangereuses more successfully than any person on the planet.

Katie, what does "slutty" smell like? Seriously. Is it that musky, civety smell in Le Labo Oud 27? Or the unclean sweaty smell of Frédéric Malle Une Fleur de Cassie or The Party in Manhattan? Sitting here with my sweet bottle of Love and feeling good about my innocent self, I really don't know.

Dan

Dan,

Scent psychologist Avery Gilbert says that women's skin smells like onions, and men's like cheese. But one of my lesbian girlfriends authoritatively asserts that lady-parts smell like cedarwood. So am I to understand that when I douse myself in cedar-y Shiseido Féminité du Bois, I'm a walking "Hello Kitty"? With an overlay of onion skin? Sounds hard to digest.


Yeeesh -- get a room, Mr. Cheese and Ms. Onion!

When this same friend sampled my Santa Maria Novella Acqua di Cuba, she opined that it smelled like semen. Why does my unconscious want me to smell like a sex hunter who lives in a Winnebago?



As for slutty: Agent Provocateur and Jean Desprez Bal à Versailles both share an unwashed-in-close-quarters smell. But The Party in Manhattan really is the ultimate Sex-Hunter-in-a-Winnebago smell.

Katie

Katie,

Are you sure it's your unconscious? Because once you've put the words "sex hunter in a Winnebago" to something, you're clearly quite conscious of it.

Dan

Dan,

"Smutty" is my shorthand for my Le Labo Labdanum 18 animal-butt roll-call. But if you're going to split beaver hairs, I'd say it isn't as smutty as Bal à Versailles, Agent Provocateur, or The Party in Manhattan.

Katie

Katie,

Not to beat you over the head with this, but to me, The Party in Manhattan smells sweaty and a little dirty. But that animal-civet smell isn't quite the same thing, right? I know you probably think I'm joking, but I truly don't know. I feel like I'm always outside this subject. Everyone refers to sexy, smutty perfumes and I can't quite identify what they're talking about.

Dan

Dan,

I guess the definition of smut in perfume is a variation on the famous definition of porn: you know it when you smell it.

My friend Alison used to wear Vivienne Westwood Boudoir, which she describes as "pissy granny knickers". She said that men always seemed to go wild for it. I'd say when a fragrance smells smutty or "personal", it has a civet/indolic jasmine thing going on, and/or a honey/urinous tang. Sweaty helps, too.



"Do I smell hawwwt?"

Party in Manhattan is probably more of an olfactory statement than a perfume anyone can wear, so maybe that should stand apart from the others on my list. All the others are different combinations of, as the Brits coyly say, "front bottom", combined with, as my English friend Alan coyly and redundantly puts it, "back bottom".

Katie

Katie,

That actually helps. Thanks. Though I'm never sure of this indole/jasmine thing. Because when I smell jasmine in a perfume, it just reminds me of jasmine, the same jasmine I'd smell at 5 a.m. doing my paper route as a kid. Even something as potent as Serge Lutens A La Nuit. Which is crazy jasmine.

Luca Turin said something along these lines, that the connection is over-made, that when the compound comes with shit, it smells like shit, but when it comes with flowers, it smells like flowers. (Which I think is due to the lower concentration of indole in flowers.)

But pissy and honey/urinous I've definitely smelled. Those sweet Etat Libre d'Oranges specialize in it. But I only think "smutty" when I read how smutty various perfumes smell, not when I actually smell them. It's like I'm Margaret Dumont and I'm missing all the jokes.

Dan

Fumies, talk dirty to me. What are your smutty scents of choice?

Onion chutney grilled cheese sandwich via
Sexy civet via

Perfume Pen Pals: Le Labo Oud 27

Katie,

I need to check out Le Labo Oud 27. All of those wild claims of rank smells are contagious, methinks. Kind of like when someone in an office building gets a headache and claims it's the ventilation, and before you know it they're having to evacuate the entire building because everyone thinks they're sick.

Dan

Dan,

I tried a spot of Oud 27 at Le Labo today. After everything I'd read, I thought it was going to be harsh blast similar to their Patchouli 24. Something you couldn't begin to appreciate until after the fabled 10-hour mark.

But it wasn't! It was leathery, animalic, labdanum-y. With an intriguing moment of critter-invading-your-personal-space at the top. But not exactly diaper-pail territory, which I'd been lead to expect. I liked it fine, but have that area covered with my Labdanum 18, and would venture out to L'Artisan Parfumeur Dzing! for my leather/animal needs before I went to Oud 27, I think.

Katie

Katie,

I, too, tried Oud 27 today. And it's what you say it is: tough to take out of the bottle and on the skin for about five minutes, and then soft and leathery later on, almost tame even, especially compared to those Montales. It's alright.

But wow, this Oud 27 does kick some serious ass out of the bottle. Is it possible my Barneys guy accidentally put embalming fluid in there by mistake? Because this doesn't smell like something you'd put on your body while you were still alive.

Dan


Does Lenin "wear" Oud 27?

Dan,

Oud 27 turned out to be the perfect thing to wear on my trip to the Cat House Sanctuary out in the California desert. I knew the volunteers would be spraying Yves Saint Laurent Opium and Calvin Klein Obsession for Men on cardboard boxes for the leopards and jaguars to scratch, sniff and maul, because everyone knows big cats love their orientals.

I wondered how Oud 27 would compete for the animals' attention, and it turned out that smell-wise, I was the belle of the ball.



As I stood near, the cats' heads whipped around and their nostrils were a-flare, jaws slack in "dumb kitty" position to savor Oud 27 on the breeze. Looking at the state of their well-loved cardboard boxes, I was glad of the bars separating me from their paws and maws.

Oud 27: It's Wildcat-Approved.

Katie

Histoires de Parfums 1969, Ambre 114, Patchouli Noir and 1876

The first I knew of the Histoires de Parfums line was via my perfume pen pal Dan Rolleri. Dan's got an insatiable jones for novelty when it comes to fragrances, and I can barely keep up with the abundant decants he regularly sends Pony Express from Rolleri Ranch in San Francisco all the way down to Puckrik Towers here in Los Angeles.

A whole year ago I was fielding his raves about Histoires de Parfums 1969:

“1969 is Tom Ford Noir de Noir, if Noir de Noir weren't created for clowns. (As it's alleged to have been.)

It's rose and fruit and patchouli and amber and chocolate and coffee, but somehow it doesn't possess the anvil-heaviness of Noir de Noir. It's Noir de Noir for adults. Sexy adults. (As opposed to clownish adults.)”

Dan sent me a decant, but I couldn't get on board the love train -- or even the clown car. To me, 1969 was a fruity floral propped up with large plank of ambery wood -- kind of a more refined Marc Jacobs Lola.

Not inspired by 1969, I lost interest in tracking down the rest of the line. Fortunately, the dedicated storytellers at HdP tracked me down, sending me samples of the whole 16-perfume collection, which is directed by Gérald Ghislain.

Impulsively (my MO is “impulsively”, hence my hallway painted an eyeball-searing neon turquoise. Oh, and that ill-advised first marriage.), I sat down the other day and plowed through all 16 fragrances. (Okay, I exaggerate -- it took two days, but one day sounded more convincingly impulsive.)

Binging on the entire Histoires de Parfums line was like opening a box of See's Assorted Chocolates and methodically taking one bite out of every single bon-bon. Everything I smelled fascinated me, either because it was gorgeous, or odd, or appalling. And also because whether I like them or not, all of the HdPs are full-figured, deliberate compositions. No taking a generic base and adding pink peppercorns here, eye of newt there, and calling it a collection. No sirree bobtail cats. Each of these eau de parfums could easily justify an entire post, but not now –- I'm binging, see?

Either through dumb luck or wondrous perfume destiny, the first one I stumble onto ends up being my favorite: Ambre 114. (Okay, I cop to trying to build drama where none exists. The fact is, I saw “Ambre” on the vial and grabbed it, because amber and I go back a long way. Notches on my bedpost include Tom Ford Private Blend Amber Absolute, Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan, Tann-Rokka Aki, Le Labo Labdanum 18, Antica Farmacista Ambra, L'Orientaliste Ambre, Parfumerie Generale L'Oiseau de Nuit, and Parfumerie Generale L'Ombre Fauve. I like stuff with amber, k?)

Ambre 114 is gorgeousness with a capital G-O-R-G-E. This powdery amber is both milky and nutty -- sort of a cross between PG L'Ombre Fauve's fur and Creed Angelique Encens' spicy powder. How I love this! There's some nice vegetal tobacco leaf/aromatic kind of thing in here. I'm guessing that thing must be the listed patchouli. Did I say I love this? I love this. Wear Ambre 114 and you will be transformed into the softest kitten that ever mewed to be petted.

Patchouli Noir is patchouli and menthol and vinyl tarpaulin. It's weird and I kind of like it –- as a smell. Like, if I unexpectedly wandered into a cloud of this odor while exploring an abandoned house, I'd announce to the assembled ghosts, “Hey, what a great smell!” But I don't need more of a commitment to Patchouli Noir than that. Speaking of commitment, this dude has serious tenacity.

Mata Hari is HdP's muse for 1876, a spicy rose floral combo at first, until it bleeds all over itself and congeals into a dense mushball of animal and ashes. It calls to mind a burnt-to-cinders version of Nasomatto China White. Pretty interesting, but I keep catching a niff of cinnamon, which forces me to withdraw my support for 1876's cause.

I mean, I love the smell of cinnamon: in my coffee, on my toast, in my Moroccan pigeon b'stila. But in perfume, overt cinnamon bugs me -- it smells too foody and obvious. Still, I'm intrigued by 1876's dank stank. It's not an easy lay, like Ambre 114. Once I finish leaving teethmarks in all of HdP's other bon-bons, I'm coming back to 1876 to learn to love it.

Fumies - which fragrances have you learned to love -- successfully?

More Histoires de Parfum reviews here, here, here, here, here and here.

Image: Greta Garbo in Mata Hari

Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur

...deliciously decadent -- or gross?




When I first discovered Frédéric Malle Editions de Parfums, Musc Ravageur was the one that captivated me. I was deep into my anti-fleur phase, not the least interested in hearing anything a flower had to tell me. (I've since resolved that stand-off, with Frédéric Malle Une Rose now in my top five personal favorites.)

Musc Ravageur, all furry warmth and musk with a bit of cinnamon, clove and vanilla, is too emphatic a concoction to call a “skin scent”. Yet the oil version, which I prefer to the eau de parfum, does hover invitingly close to your body in a way that allows you to claim partial credit for the good smell.

The oil is pretty much all base notes, focusing on musk, amber and the smidge of vanilla which encourages the creaminess. The edp gets there in the end, too, but not before journeying through the land of lavender and clove. All very nice, but it has a masculine flourish that isn't quite for me.

I think of Musk Ravageur as a fraternal twin to Le Labo Labdanum 18, given that both are thick, cozy, animal-inspired scents created by Maurice Roucel. Once I discovered Labdanum 18, with its more powdery, less aggressive ambered musk, it became my preferred source of perfume purr.

I tried to share my enthusiasm for both MR and L18 with my Perfume Pen Pal Dan, but he merely shrugged at Labdanum 18. And then he let rip with the following tirade at Musc Ravageur:

This, my friend, is where we part ways. Using the vernacular of an earlier generation, Roucel really goes for it, doesn't he? It was so strong! At first I was worried it was the fragrance equivalent of a tattoo and I was going to have to laser off the outer layer of my skin just to get it off me. And it smelled gross. That seems like an especially inarticulate description, I know, but I can't think of anything more appropriate to say. Might my sample have been from a bad batch? Because I've smelled lots of other Roucel scents and none of them smelled gross (Kenzo Air practically doesn't even exist). But Musc Ravageur? Wow. Gross.

I'm not exactly sure what triggered the gag reflex for Dan, since MR doesn't hit any of the popular stank stops: barnyard, gusset, diaper pail. It's rich without being a gourmand, though some MR fans claim they pick up chocolate. There is a “too muchness” to it, though, and while that might send Dan on a series of Silkwood showers, to the rest of us, Musc Ravageur smells like delicious decadence.

Check FredericMalle.com for retailers. The oil is no longer available.

Viewer Mail: How Do I Layer Perfumes?

Katie,

What gives you the idea to try two fragrances together? Do they have a common note and the rest differs? Or do you just have an idea that they would be compatible? Ever have any that you thought would be great and turned out to be a bad idea?

ScentsofSmell

SoS -- I really don't multi-stack perfumes that often (though when I'm evaluating a bunch at once, that is often an unintentional, and usually horrible, combining exercise). My general feeling is that wearing more than one perfume at a time is like sloshing two wines into the same glass: likely to give you a headache and make you unpopular with your friends.

But when perfume blending does work, it is, as you surmise, a matter of matching a note with one in another perfume. Or matchmaking accords that have a natural affinity with each other, like rose and incense, or saffron and vanilla, or citrus and leather -- which you figure out through another great combination: trial and error.

In the case of my wearing Comme des Garçons Avignon and L'Artisan Parfumeur Vanilia together, it was an adaptation of advice given by a L'Artisan Parfumeur SA advocating the twinning of Vanilia and another incense, Passage d'Enfer. The SA had obviously pegged me as a two-for-one patsy, but whatever, I bought the Vanilia along with the Passage d'Enfer. Then I realized I kind of hated Passage d'Enfer.

I passed through Angi’s 5 Stages of Bad Perfume Grief, first detailed in the comments for the Francis Kurkdjian Aqua Universalis pen pal post. Let’s review these essential steps for healing:

The 5 Stages of Bad Perfume Grief

1. Outraged Anger
2. Disgusted (at self for buying it) Anger
3. Disgusted (at whoever made this crap) Anger
4. Angry Anger
5. Angry, Angry Acceptance

Angrily accepting, I re-applied the vanilla+incense formula to Avignon, and it worked even better. Avignon has a slight vanilla undercurrent that links it to Vanilia, and Vanilia has an ashiness that compliments Avignon’s eye-smarting frankincense. And Vanilia’s playfulness lightened up the cerebral Avignon.

In the “random brain wave” category, I was once in the thick of enjoying Le Labo Labdanum 18’s powdery-musk-meets-long-distance-zoo, when it occurred to me that L18 might work alongside the flowers’n’barnyard of Bal à Versailles. A dab or two later, I proved myself correct, though others might protest its Coldstone Creamery-style overkill (like the time I ordered scoops of praline, crème brûlée, and toffee ice cream, rolled in Heath Bar pieces and smothered in caramel sauce, also known as “too much of a good thing”).

No “mad scientist” failures so far, but fumies, I’d be interested to know if any of you have experienced olfactory car crashes -- along with scent-layering success stories!

Katie’s Perfume Collection: Part 2

When I posted the first of my perfume collection videos last week, I was surprised -- happily -- by the response. It turns out that people have a higher tolerance for my squirrelly off-the-cuff fume ramblings than I anticipated. Good thing, too, because there are three more of these "Puckrik Unplugged" collection vids coming up after this one. And I just discovered that I left out a bottle. (I promise I'll make it up to you, Comme des Garçons Daphne.)

Picking up where I left off in Part 1, Part 2 sees me doh-dee-doh-ing my way from number 17 to 29 of my sniffy buddies.

Here are the featured fragrances:

1. Shiseido Feminité du Bois (now available in the Serge Lutens line)
2. Santa Maria Novella Acqua di Cuba
3. Sarah Jessica Parker Lovely liquid satin
4. Parfumerie Generale L’Oiseau de Nuit
5. Frédéric Malle Une Rose
6. Le Labo Labdanum 18
7. Frédéric Malle Musc Ravageur oil
8. Ultima II Sheer Scent
9. Solange Azagury Partridge Cosmic
10. Solange Azagury Partridge Stoned
11. Ormonde Jayne Tolu parfum
12. Guerlain Attrape Coeur
13. Juliette Has a Gun Lady Vengeance

Any of these tickle or torture your nose?

Click on the fragrance names for more information.

Smell along with Katie: Perfume Collection Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5.

Perfume Pen Pals: What Clooney Wears

Katie,

Today I spent a good long time with the rep in Barneys, talking about various Frédéric Malle perfumes. She HATES Lipstick Rose, isn't crazy about Carnal Flower, and kept urging me to pick Musc Ravageur because a certain actor favors it, which she knows because he recently bought a bottle from her right here in San Francisco.

She wouldn't reveal his name so I said, "We all know it's George Clooney." Her eyes lit up and she said, "How did you know?!"

Afterward, my friend Beth whispered to me, "I don't know what's creepier, the woman going on about this mysterious actor and his perfume or you knowing who it was."

Dan

Dan,

How amazing that we've now confirmed that Musc Ravageur is what Clooney wears! And there's Luca Turin in The Guide positing that George wears classy shit like Chanel Pour Monsieur.

George Clooney wearing Musc Ravageur is like me layering Le Labo Labdanum 18 with Jean Desprez Bal à Versailles: way too many animals in the barnyard! Talk about gilding the lily! Talk about over-egging the pudding! Go on -- just talk about it!

Katie

Katie,

Favorite KP Smells YouTube comment of the day:

After being informed that KP doesn't in fact shave a "little nick" in her eyebrow, that it's a scar from a childhood accident, peacelovecoexist writes:

"It looks super cool, even if it is an accident! Maybe you'll start a new trend!"

Does she mean a trend of childhood accidents? Will friends of peacelovecoexist start hurling their children into rosebushes so they can be cool like KP? I hope not. And, by the way, was there ever a question about peace and love being able to coexist?

Coincidentally, I'm wearing By Kilian Love tonight. (And I'm not engaged in combat.) And while I strongly suspect you'll hate it, I urge you to open your mind. Sure, it smells like a marshmallow meringue, but it also possesses this cold screechiness that moves it slightly to the left of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

My favorite contemporary writer, maybe my favorite writer of all time, Geoff Dyer, often speaks of his fictional work as being an inch away from reality, but he says it's within that inch where all of the art occurs. It's the same thing with Love. Though I'm sure Mr. Dyer wouldn't appreciate his line being re-applied to a marshmallow perfume.

Dan

Dan,

I like the idea of the "inch of art". The crack with all the good stuff in it. Like in between the sofa cushions.

Katie

Perfume Pen Pals: George Clooney vs. Tony Bennett Perfume Loyalty

Dan,

After resampling Serge Lutens Chergui and L'Artisan Parfumeur Dzing! today, I've decided to go Clooney on them and love 'em and leave 'em. Le Labo Labdanum 18 gives me what I love about Dzing!, and Chergui is great but has too much spicy syrup that just sits there on my arm like a whispering slug.

Katie

Katie,

Congratulations on not falling in love with too many perfumes at once. Life is complicated enough without simultaneously longing for a few dozen scents.

When Tony Bennett travels, he alerts his favorite Italian restaurant in each city to prepare the very same dish, some simple plate of pasta, because he doesn't want to waste any creative energy on worrying about what he's going to eat.

You're a long way from this regarding perfumes. Still, congratulations nonetheless. Eliminating two long-time favorites is nothing to sneeze at.

Dan

Dan,

But how about this Lutens Daim Blond that I keep pushing on you? It’s sort of a halfway house between Chergui and Dzing! Kind of like Clooney shagging Drew Barrymore after he'd had the other two Charlie's Angels.

Katie

Katie,

Daim Blond does look like a good bet for me. I like everything with apricot in it. (Or osmanthus, which supposedly smells like apricot.) Like peach, it's both fruity and sensual.

Though I'm not crazy about the George Clooney image. Stay away from him. We probably know where he's been, but we don't know how recently he's been there. And that's a critical detail!

Dan

Dan,

I'm thinking Clooney's tick-over rate of ladies is probably one "relationship" a week -- or maybe one every two weeks. So not too soon. Not like a sex hunter with a RV parked outside a swinger's club.

Katie

Perfume Pen Pals: Tom Ford Private Blend Italian Cypress

Katie,

I'd be lying if I said I didn't love this Tom Ford Italian Cypress. I've had it on since noon and I can still smell it. And it smells unbelievably good. It doesn't evolve much but it softens, which makes a big difference. (The first 30 minutes or so is a little rough going.)

It's not far from Hinoki, but rounder. It's a round-faced Hinoki. In fact, everything Nathan Branch wrote about Italian Cypress is spot-on correct. I much prefer it over Micallef Gaïac, which begins soft and then rots.

Italian Cypress would also smell nice on a woman. I keep reading about how masculine it is, but it's only cologne-y in the very beginning. Ten hours later, it's a soft smoky wood. Friday night and I'm smelling myself. Something's obviously wrong.

Dan

Dan,

OK, I suppose I stand corrected on Italian Cypress being too masculine for you. Guess you're not tip-toe-ing through the niminy-piminy tulips all the live-long day after all. Or always wearing some arch olfactory commentary on uncomfortable sex in a rented car. Sometimes, you choose to wear some straight-ahead guy stuff.

Good to know you can count on Nathan Branch, at least. Although his favorite road trip fragrance is Le Labo Labdanum 18, which is more my thing than yours. He's got a point of view for both of us!

But it's this "ten hours later" jive that makes me do an impatient little huff like Rodrigo produces when he realizes no-one's going to give him any food off their dinner plate. Give me readily-apparent beauty, any day!

Dan

Katie,

I only said it still smells great after ten hours. But it smelled great after one hour, too. It only smelled a little harsh at the very beginning.

And I will not have my tastes pinned down! I sent a sample of Chanel Coromandel to my only other perfume friend, Beth, and she hated it. And after she said she hated it, she said, "You obviously like heavy scents!"

I don't obviously anything! Except I obviously like things I like. And even that gets dicey some days.

Incidentally, I love that your Britney Spears Hidden Fantasy YouTube review is both your most-watched video and your lowest-rated video. That's the future. Once you get popular, it's tough to keep all the hoodlums in line.

Witness that "scar lol" comment from BeautyIsGone. What the fuck? And then the chick writes, "I was just trying to help"?

I was just trying to help??? In what fucked-up world does "scar lol" qualify as "just trying to help"? I'd want to ruin her. I'd want to say something so cruel that she'd remember it for the rest of her life. That's normal, right?

Dan

Dan,

Heh. "scar lol" isn't as zesty as the classic "you have a head like a square box" comment I got from one of the inexhaustible supply of angry Britney fans.

Hey, I just noticed that I signed my last email to you "Dan". Is that normal? It must be, because you didn't even notice.

Maybe the borders of my identity are melting, and I'm not even aware of it. I guess that's how that works.

Katie
(identity recovered)

Katie,

Indeed I had noticed you signed off with my name. But I didn't say anything because I felt guilty. I remember ex-girlfriends complaining about losing their identities with me and to think it could also happen with perfume friends, well, that's just ridiculous. Also, because I forgot to make a joke about it.

I find I'm now reading your video comments looking for people talking about your eyebrow scar. Your scar is now part of my amateur sociological study. I'm just fascinated that people would write about such a thing in a comment box.

It's not even a matter of manners. If you were missing an arm, I'd expect everyone to have a little fun with it. But a scar is such a small thing.

Dan

Viewer Mail: Help Me Fake a Sex Life

This is going to sound outright bizarre, but is there a sex-scented perfume? My ex is coming over next week to pick up her stuff, and I was thinking of ways I could make her jealous via the façade of an active sex life. Can you help me??

Thanks,

PseudoGigolo

Pseudo - what a preposterous question! Naturally, I love it. Now let’s figure this thing out.

As far as I know, there is no such thing as a sex-scented perfume. Personally, that sounds about as appealing as eating pre-digested food. You might want your fragrance to lead up to Dirty Moose Friskiness (DMF), but to have the scent itself reek of DMF aftermath would certainly be over-egging the pudding.

If you want to break it down into boy/girl odor components, though, that would be possible. For instance, there are several fragrances that boast of containing a semen accord:
Etat Libre d’Orange Magnificent Secretions (semen, sweat, blood, and milk)
Le Labo Musc 25 (semen and musk)
Thierry Mugler Cologne (semen and woody lemon)

By the sounds of your current situation, however, you’ve got plenty of your own supply going spare, so let’s turn our attention to perfumes of the female persuasion.

It forever seared my frontal lobe when my friend Alison proclaimed that Vivienne Westwood Boudoir smells of “pissy granny knickers” and that “men love it”. Boudoir’s tuberose and amber combine into something sweaty and creamy. LesNez Manoumalia is another trampy tropical.

And my lady-loving pal Lisa once made a revealing comment after smelling Serge Lutens Féminité du Bois.

“Mmm, cedar,” she purred approvingly. “Smells c#nty!”

Cedarwood often has a phantom smell of buttermilk hovering nearby, as some have picked up on in Eau d’Italie Paestum Rose, for instance. If we allow “tangy creaminess” to signify “female”, that leads us to milky, ripe perfumes like Etat Libre d’Orange Hotel Slut, 10 Corso Como, Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison, Guerlain Shalimar, and Guerlain Attrape-Coeur.

Another tack is to go the zoo route, with animalic fragrances containing musk, civet, or honey. In small concentrations, honey smells of ripe flesh, and in high doses smells like urine. Beautiful honey-based scents include By Kilian Back to Black, Santa Maria Novella Acqua di Cuba, MAC Africanimal, and Parfums DelRae Amoureuse.

Serge Lutens Miel de Bois, on the other hand, smells too much like hobo trousers. Steer clear unless you want to convey intimacy with Boxcar Willie.

L’Artisan Parfumeur Dzing!, Le Labo Labdanum 18 and Jean Desprez Bal à Versailles all stay on the right side of funky, animal-wise. Serge Lutens Musc Koublai Khan is another matter. A spritz of that will have your ex thinking you’ve turned to farm animals in your time of need. You don’t want her calling the cops - or the Humane Society.

As entertaining as it is to convey olfactory orgies by matchmaking “personal bits” perfumes, I reluctantly concede that I’m over-thinking this. You’re better off just spraying a nice perfume into the air a few hours before your ex turns up. Nothing too cheap or cheesy - you want to imply that your hypothetical new girlfriend has some class.

I suggest Stella McCartney Stella, a musky, musty rose that has a built-in “morning after” aspect.

But to make sure you have all the tools at your disposal, I consulted Dr. Avery Gilbert, sensory psychologist and author of What the Nose Knows. Just imagine his delight at being asked to apply the full force of his scientific brainpower to your Machiavellian tomfoolery.

Dr. Gilbert replied:

As a student of animal sex behavior - including what's politely referred to as the "competitive mating scenario" - I can suggest a couple of olfactory tactics for Mr. Pseudo.

Does his ex have a sister? If so, then spritz around a bit of the sister's favorite scent. Or the perfume of the ex's bestest girlfriend.

Context makes a big difference in odor perception. So be sure to leave an unfamiliar toothbrush on the bathroom sink and a thong hanging on the inside doorknob.

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen: Dr. Avery Gilbert, scholar and master of head-f#cking through the nose.

Speaking from experience (from both sides of the break-up fence), if your ex truly has moved on, nothing will make her jealous - not Eau de Dirty Moose Friskiness, not Scarlett Johansson lounging around in your shirt and smoking a cigarette. (Well, maybe Scarlett would give her pause for thought.)

But look on the bright side: if you take all the energy you've expended in devising this smell-based skullduggery and apply it to your next (successful) relationship, you'll never face this problem again.

Fumeheads, what holographic “active sex life” fragrances can you suggest for PseudoGigolo?

Perfume Pen Pals: By Kilian Back to Black vs. Serge Lutens Chergui

Katie,

Okay, re-reading these Perfume Pen Pals are making me self-conscious about my habits. So many ill-advised purchases, I need an intervention! Why won't someone intervene?

Dan

Dan,

You wanted an intervention, you got it. Stop, for the sake of your bank account and the party dresses you will adore buying for your new girlfriend, stop right there, buddy! Step one: you are not buying By Kilian Back to Black. When I first smelled it, I determined to warn you off, because I remembered your intrigue with it.

Back to Back is a gorgeously yummy fragrance, but it's not for Dan. Here's why: it's a powdery loukhoum (honey vanilla marzipan), girly sweetie-sweet scent. It's not as kerrrazeee powdery as Keiko Mecheri's Loukhoum series, but it's that same vibe.

If the blog chatter about "cherry pipe tobacco" is what's giving you a burnin' yeanin', then I would strongly urge you to try Serge Lutens Chergui instead, which I swear, I WILL be acquiring one of these days. Chergui is hay/tobacco/leather first, sweetness second. And B to B is sweetness first, sweetness second.

But any way the wad blows, I expect a decant.

Katie

Katie,

So you talk me off one ledge and then stick me on several others? Over the course of one paragraph, I've gone from Back to Black to party dresses for Alicia to Chergui.

And everyone is talking about B to B's cherry pipe tobacco. Everyone! The Basenoters are even in favor of it, and they're generally all persnickety over By Kilian, mostly because of the prices.

Dan

Dan,

My form of perfume intervention is more subtle: I steer you away from something you'll just go "hmm" at, and direct you towards something that will give you more pleasure. So truthfully, I'm not saving you money at all, just redirecting the flow towards greater satisfaction. And that's good, right?

I still insist that Chergui is your one stop for cherry pipe tobacco. Also, I don't want to intimate that B to B is not a luscious delight. I just thought it was a little puffball for you.

Katie

Katie,

Too puffball for me? Me who already owns By Kilian Love? Surely it's not more puffball than that. Or is it?

Maybe I'll feel the same about Chergui, too. Though I don't generally like cherry anything.

Dan

Dan,

Yes, B to B is more puffball than the sober (yes - sober) "vanilla for adults" of By Kilian Love.

And wait...what? You don't like cherry anything? I'm confused - why are you gassing on about Back to Black, which references cherry pipe tobacco and Turkish delight? (Though the notes list raspberry, not cherry, so we'll just call it "red fruit".)

Is this going to be another "I hate roses" scenario which then turns into Dan wearing Tom Ford Noir de Noir all winter long?

Katie

Katie,

I'm pretty sure I don't like cherry more than I don't like roses. And I stand by my rose assertion (three or so rose purchases later), but only as it relates to what I initially assumed all rose perfumes smelled like: that uptight, old-fashioned, funereal rose, the best (worst?) example being anything Montale with rose in it.

As for Back to Black, I saw the raspberry (which isn't quite cherry), but I so like Calice Becker's stuff (all the good By Kilians, Tommy Girl, Beyond Paradise, J'Adore) that I was ready to jump in regardless of the ingredients.

And jump in I did, because today was perfume day. Alicia and I hit Barney’s and Saks, and I now own Serge Lutens Chergui. I'm wearing it right now and while it's robust, it also moves, and it has real dimension, cherry, yes, but sexy cherry. (Who knew such a thing was possible?) I didn't have a complete impression of it but I could tell it wasn't going to be a mistake.

At Saks, Alicia sprayed on By Kilian Back to Black, and I liked it! Saffron, almond, vetiver, labdanum, raspberry - those definitely aren't Dan-endorsed ingredients. It sounds like a sweet, powdery, spicy, fruity mess. And it is. Except for the mess part. It's mostly a sweet, fruity amber, yes? But I did like it. At least on Alicia. So I bought it.

Back to Black and Chergui. I kicked ass today.

Dan

Dan,

What a result! Chergui AND Back to Black. And there I was thinking it was an either/or situation!

Katie

Katie,

My first impression was that Chergui and Back to Black don't quite fill the same slot. My second impression was, "Uh-oh, my first impression was wrong." Because Back to Black developed into something closer to Chergui than was my first impression. I shouldn't have bought both but at least I now don't have to regret not buying one or the other.

I love Back to Black, even more so on Alicia. She wore it tonight and I can say with no hesitation that this thing turns very sexy after a few hours. It's powdery and not too far from Le Labo Labdanum 18, but with more complications.

This, to me, is a sexy perfume. It's sweet, yes, but there's something else about it that draws me in, maybe the labdanum (which is also sweet, I guess). To my nose/brain, B to B just smells all sweet and sultry, the perfume equivalent of Homer Simpson saying, "Mmm, doughnuts!"

Dan

For more on this particular perfume dance-off, see the "Back to Black vs. Chergui" thread on Basenotes.

Perfume Pen Pals: M. Micallef Gaïac and Le Labo Labdanum 18

Katie,

Today I'm wearing M. Micallef Gaïac (aren't you just loving the "i" with the two dots?) and it's so damn sweet. It's both masculine and sweet, which I don't love. I love sweet scents like By Kilian Love, which is sweeter than Gaïac, but when male scents are sweet, they either smell incongruous or they smell like rotting persimmons. Gaïac smells like rotting persimmons. And you know what that means. Yes, that means I smell like rotting persimmons. Try getting a mini-boner over that.

Dan

Dan,

I warned you after-the-fact about Gaïac. Though I didn't detect anything as 3-D as sweet decay. I just thought it wasn't either Martha or Arthur.

Katie

Katie,

Thanks for the after-the-fact warning about Gaïac. Maybe you can try to get ahold of Michael Jackson. Warn him about his doctor.

Okay, that was mean. I’m sorry. Maybe it's time to try another perfume. I'll go with Le Labo Labdanum 18. Oh gosh, that's much sweeter and heavier than I thought it would be. I should've only sprayed once.

It's kind of a little sickening, no? Do you say this in your review? Do you say, "Ooh, this one is kind of a little sickening"? I've gotta hope this softens into something different than what I'm experiencing right now or I fear I'm going to cut my arms off just to escape.

I'm getting lots of powder, lots of super-sweet amber (as opposed to dark toasty amber), and lots of feelings of self-loathing. This is the one you warned me about, isn't it? Another one of those warnings after-the-fact. Though it was my own fault. I asked your opinion then had my order in within three minutes.

Okay, I'm not liking this at all and it feels like my body is about to reject it. Oh no, I just looked it up in Perfumes: The Guide. It's a Roucel scent. That's why it reminds me of Musc Ravageur. It's a slightly more cloying but slightly less gross Musc Ravageur.

And now my arms are turning maroon where I sprayed! My body IS rejecting it. I was kidding and now my worst nightmare is coming true! Next time I'll wait to hear your opinion before I buy.

Dan

Dan,

Yes, L-18 comes on like gangbusters. It's trashy and horny, but does mellow out as it swaggers along. And I neither steered you towards or away from it, other than to constantly say how much I loved it. I was a little concerned when you ordered a sample, though, because of it being in the Musc Ravageur family, and that one didn't exactly tickle your pickle.

Katie

Katie,

I fell asleep before it mellowed so I'll have to try it again. But I did understand its appeal after a few minutes. It smells sexy but sexy in a way I'd prefer a woman to smell, not me.

That's the confusion of being a man who wears perfume: I occasionally come across something that feels like putting on a dress. (No, I'm not speaking from actual experience.) My pickle is tickled but it's not the right kind of tickle and I feel self-conscious and suddenly realize I need to get out more. That's L-18 in a nutshell for me.

Dan

Perfume Pen Pals: Nasomatto China White, Comme des Garcons Hinoki, Le Labo (various) and CB I Hate Perfumes (various)

Katie,

Instead of buying more new bottles, I've gone sample-crazy, replenishing an almost fully ‘plenished supply of tiny vials. And I'm finally dipping into Le Labo with its Discovery Set. But what should I discover?

Have you tried anything from the line other than your beloved Labdanum 18? And would you recommend that as one of my samples, considering it's classified as a "female"? Based on Turin's review, I'm definitely trying Patchouli 24, but I must pick two more.

I did the unthinkable and ordered a whole pile of samples from CB I Hate Perfume, a line in which I had little interest right until the moment I typed in my credit card number. That's how things go sometimes. CB gets mostly slammed by Basenoters, but I must say I like At The Beach 1966 (in sort of the same way I like Kettle Corn and miniature ponies).

And I have a large sample of Burning Leaves, which is oddly comforting. (Odd because it smells exactly like burning leaves and I can't explain why such a thing would be comforting to someone who panics in the country.)

And I've already gone through my sample of In The Library, which is more depressing than comforting. It's the smell of inertia. Which, oddly again, I like. So I bought a bunch more CBs.

And I'm eyeballing The Perfumed Court sample list like a hungry coyote eyeballs a bunny rabbit. Like you probably, I'm going to smell like something different every day for the next three months.

Dan

Dan,

Listen here - Patchouli 24 is one of those "experience" smells, rather than a personal fragrance, (perhaps like Burning Leaves, which I haven't smelled), so be warned that you're in for eye-smarting levels of smoke and little else.

OK, from what I know of your tastes, I'd nudge you towards Iris 39, Neroli 36 and Rose 31. I don't know how you feel about iris in general, but Iris 39 feels like the most neo-classical, gorgeous perfume they have, and I know you'll appreciate it. Don't know if Labdanum 18 is for you, but might be if you're exploring Dzing! and like powdery leathers in general. So if that's the case, swap out the Rose 31 with L-18.

Also, I think it's a lot less lady-ish than all your other ladyboy peachy prom queens you love, like By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses. (But I did smell Tom Ford Italian Cypress today, that's pretty after-shavey, I thought.)

Vetiver 46 is pretty similar to Comme des Garçons 2 Man. Mark Buxton did both. Pass on that one. And people get excited about Rose 31, but I think you've been there and back with The Different Company Rose Poivrée.

Today I spent in Beverly Hills on a happy sniffing orgy. Which became not-so-happy when I found out that not one, but TWO of the fragrances I thought I was going to buy had been disconFUCKINGtinued. Creed Angelique Encens, which I could never wrap my head around buying because it was over $300 and 8.4 oz, and Rosine Rose Kashmirie, which I knew I was playing Russian Roulette with since it was a limited edition.

But in the meantime, I’m getting seduced by Nasomatto China White, a frosty-powdery, smoky-rose iris. Cold and suffocating at the same time. Someone open a window - I can't breathe! Brrr...and bring me a blanket while you're at it!

Just tried one of your decants, CdG Hinoki. It smells like pink leather. I'm thinking of unworn ballet slippers right out of the box. And I haven't tried it on my skin yet, but I think I love CdG 2.

“The smell of inertia.” Hah! Have we discussed the fab David Bowie/Gary Numan-esque number in the original Bedazzled, with Peter Cook doing a turn as a disaffected pop star? I love the deadpan contempt of his kiss-off, "You fill me with inertia."

Katie

Katie,

Oh no, I can't believe I asked for your help and then didn't wait long enough for your response. (And you mentioned Bedazzled! I haven't thought of that movie in ages.) Okay, so I didn't do as you said. Or rather I did pick Neroli 36. But, indeed, I've tried enough roses and so I passed on Rose 31.

And I'm not crazy about irises, even Ellena's Bois d'Iris, so I passed, too, on Iris 39. Instead I picked Patchouli 24, which does seem to scare the pants off some people, Neroli 36 and Labdanum 18, which many describe as a more easygoing Musc Ravageur. Anyway, they're just 5ml samples so it's no big risk.

With Hinoki, I only get pencil shavings out of the bottle. It's on the same continuum as 2 Man (all of Buxton's scents seem to be on the same continuum), but I prefer it. But 2 I like less. It has that high-pitched metallic note that other CdG's share, but not much else to my nose. Maybe I'll give it another go tomorrow.

I've not sampled anything from Nasomatto. But I love those little '70s-styled bottles. Maybe tomorrow I'll order a bunch of LuckyScent samples, too. You definitely like your winter scents, don't you? I imagine you all bundled up in a Christmas sweater with your hot cocoa by the fireplace. While it's 75 degrees outside!

Now I'm worried about Italian Cypress. I had read it was the most masculine of the line and I do need a few more masculine scents. And it's often compared to Hinoki. (One of the blogs said Italian Cypress was greener and less sweet.) And Nathan Branch loved it. Still, there's no excuse for buying blind. And if I get away with it this time, it will only encourage me to do it more often. I'll be better off in the long run if I hate Italian Cypress. Fingers crossed.

Dan

P.S. Here's my complete review of In The Library: "This lonely little scent quietly warns you that life isn’t one big sock-hop, that all of us are in for a good many dull and depressing days sitting on uncomfortable chairs in corners of dim and dusty rooms. If you don’t desire this kind of blunt language from your eau de parfum, if you require a fragrance that lies to you instead, then stick with Tommy Girl. The smell of inertia."

Perfume Pen Pals: Amouage Homage Attar, The Different Company Sel de Vetiver, By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses and L’Artisan Parfumeur Dzing!

Dan,

Re Musc Ravageur: I don't know if this in any way mitigates your queasy sensation of grossness, but my poison is the oil, not the eau de parfum. It's silky soft and melts right in and smells sensual and wears close.

Funny you should mention Dzing!, because I've been going in for regular sprtizes of it at the beauty supply store next to my yoga studio. Leave yoga relatively fresh, arrive home smelling like a warm saddle with a crotchful of kettle corn. So yeah, I enjoy Dzing! - it's on the clean side of barnyard. Don't know that I need to own it, because I've already got my barnyard brew of Le Labo Labdanum 18 and Bal à Versailles.

Your perfume piñata of decants just arrived, and soon I will be smelling weird - possibly gross - new smells. I'm very excited!

Katie

Katie,

The fellow in the loft above mine is throwing another in a series of post-4 a.m. parties (seriously, he looks as if he hasn't been sober since 1987 - I've only been here a few months and already I'm hoping my neighbor dies of an overdose) and so I'm awake and in no mood to write. Professionally that is. I'm always in the mood to write emails.

I've not sampled the Musc Ravageur oil, but the edp is the kind of thing I can't pull off. (And thus my hatred. I'm just jealous, Katie.) Same with that Czech & Speake #88 about which everyone raves. These are sweet and heavy scents seemingly made for a person of genuine presence. I make a few funny remarks and hope to go unnoticed for the rest of the evening. I can't have my fragrance undermining that. Also, it's amazing how much better (to my nose, at least) the more traditional masculine scents smell on women than men. The surprise alone can sometimes carry the day.

Alright, the party continues (there's heavy concrete between us so I can never hear actual conversation, only the constant clapping of heels on hardwood floor). I should probably go up there and kick some serious ass. If only I had kept my Musc Ravageur. Because no one can kick serious ass wearing Etat Libre d’Orange Jasmin et Cigarette.

Dan

Dan,

It’s like perfume Xmas around here with your decants! Have realized that getting a baggie of someone else's taste is the perfect way to broaden my palate. You know how it is when picking out fragrance, or music, or items on a menu - you just go with what you know you already like. Here, I'm confronted with a plate of pig knuckles, baked Alaska and brains-on-toast: stuff I would never order, but who knows, I might end up loving!

Wow, this By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses is some classy shit! Still enjoying the gorgeous plummy wood drydown from last night's application.

Katie

Katie

Gosh, I'm glad you're so happy. I've sent fragrances to friends and had them practically shrug over email to me.

So how great is this Amouage Homage Attar stuff? I have tried Amouage Gold and while it's potent, after a couple hours I smelled as if I had been dunked in a vat of baby power. (Thank goodness that kind of thing is no longer legal in this country.) I remember being in Whole Foods and feeling terribly self-conscious. I feel self-conscious enough normally, I don't need a scent to encourage me to feel self-conscious. But if you say Homage is great, well, I've got to try it.

Dan

Dan,

Homage Attar. It is truly a glory, and not at all powdery. It is just radiantly flowers'n'frankincense, and skews feminine, so it's intriguing that the menfolk are wading on in there. They might be lured by the mention of oud, but this oud is in no way the Montale chemical warfare approach. Haven't tried Gold, so I couldn't do a consumer comparison report, there, but in contrast with the Jubilations and the Lyrics, Homage Attar is much more delicate, fine-boned and aristocratic.

OK, am now road-testing The Different Company Sel de Vetiver, which I knew I enjoyed, but tell you what, I'm already missing By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses. That dry down was just right. Lovely.

Katie

Katie

I don't know how I feel about my perfumes being compared to pig knuckles, but I did enjoy beef cheeks the other night. Which weren't exactly what I expected. They were most definitely plural: a whole stack of them slathered in a heavy, brown, aggressively meaty sauce. Plus, they were breaded, which helped further disguise what a terrible mistake I had just made. Occasionally, I like to fancy myself an Anthony Bourdain and I order recklessly. (Ever eat a raw quail egg, Katie? I have.) I can't imagine the perfume equivalent of beef cheeks, but I bet Kenneth Cole has something to do with it.

Did you read Chandler Burr's book on Jean-Claude Ellena, The Perfect Scent? I remember Sel de Vetiver was part of that and it talked about Celine Ellena's attempt to capture the mineral smell of Parisian tap water. And it is very mineral-y. (The perfume, I mean. I have no recollection of the water.) It's similar to Jean-Claude's Bois d'Iris, but I prefer SdV. My friend wore it before a coastal hike last weekend and it blended perfectly with the environment (sometimes perfumes and nature, depending on the nature, don't quite sync up).

Alright, now I'm sounding like one of those obsessive Basenoters, documenting the best locations for certain scents. This is where over-thinking pays off: you might not be the most comfortable fellow in a room, but you'll never get caught taking pictures of your perfume collection.

Dan

Perfume Pen Pals: M. Micallef Note Vanillee, Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur and Tom Ford Amber Absolute

Dan,

I don't think I would have ventured into the possibly blasphemous region of perfume-layering, had not the L'Artisan Parfumeur saleswoman at Barney's recommended Vanilia with the Passage d'Enfer I was buying. Suddenly, there I was buying two bottles of perfume. Boy, she knew a patsy when she saw one!

I never bothered with vanilla before that, but I ended up wearing it more than the Passage d'Enfer, which I quickly found annoying. I transferred Vanilia onto my preferred incense, Comme des Garçons Avignon, and a match was made.

I've just reminded myself of another Barney's steamroll where I thought I was just buying Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan, and there I was suddenly in possession of Fleurs d'Orange as well, because the SA claimed Serge made them to go together. Where is my self-determination, Dan? If the SA told me to jump off a cliff, would I do it?

In this case, I never wear Fleurs d'Orange (too sweetly floral - though I sometimes spray it in the hallway like very expensive air freshener - eeek!), but still love Ambre Sultan, especially deep in the heart of a desert summer.

And lately, I've been wearing Le Labo Labdanum 18 with Jean Desprez Bal à Versailles, which is horny leather barn to the tenth. This combo veers into what I call CCS - Coldstone Creamery Syndrome: I decide I like a particular ice cream flavor, then plop every iteration of it into the bowl (pecan praline, maple pecan, caramel delight, all drizzled in butterscotch sauce). And then I feel sick. But so far, I'm not sick of my sexy barnyard, and people have been complimenting it.

Katie

Katie,

Considering your wedding blend of Avignon and Vanilia, have you tried M. Micallef Note Vanillée? It's not quite an incense vanilla, but it is boozy and amber-y and licorice-y. I was awfully impressed. If you like Avignon sweetened or especially Ambre Sultan, you need to go here next.

I've not tried a single thing from Le Labo. I'm not even sure why. I don't think Luca Turin likes them, so I have that on my side, but I haven't even come across them in stores. People go on about Rose 31, but it's a rose, how great can it be? Anything with labdanum has a nice scent association for me. And I see that Turin compares Labdanum 18 to Ambre Sultan. Wow, you're really into amber, aren't you?

I should've sent you my sample of Tom Ford Amber Absolute. Have you tried that one? Yowza. It's quite nice but, like most Tom Fords, it's very present. A little goes a long, long way.

Your perfumes mailed this morning. After all my decanting, I had one atomizer left, so I threw in some Bond No. 9 New Haarlem, which you've probably already tried. (I remember you referring to Silver Factory in one of your reviews.) But just in case. It's thick and dark and warm, and was created by Maurice Roucel, who also did Labdanum 18, so I'm guessing it's good for you.

Dan

Dan,

M. Micallef Note Vanillée - don't know that one, want to explore, since the comments say it resembles Aquolina Blue Sugar, the boy version of the bonkers-sweet burnt sugar Pink Sugar. PS is at Sephora, but it's crazy enough to pass for niche.

Ahhh...Tom Ford's Amber Absolute - know it well. Glugged my way through a full bottle in the space of a few months a year and a half ago - loved it loved it loved it, especially in the dryness of LA. Was really overbearing when I wore it in humid London, but I wore it I did. Climate really does affect what you can get away with.

Luca Turin certainly was cranky about Le Labo, but that was based on his tiff with them because they wouldn't give him freebies to review. Consequently, his reviews were begrudging and testy. And boy, the owner Fabrice is still REALLY annoyed with Luca about this (I had a very long, animated talk with him about it).

Even when I kept pointing out "But Luca gave Patchouli 24 five stars...and he loved Iris 39", Fabrice wouldn't have it, saying it was stupid for anyone to try to review perfume. As you can imagine, I kept quiet about KatiePuckrikSmells....

Oh, and I don't find a link between Labdanum 18 and Ambre Sultan at all - different characters altogether. L18 is sexy leathery barnyard baby powder, and AS is aromatic harshly dry amber.

As for Maurice Roucel, I was a big Musc Ravageur oil wearer, until I discovered Labdanum 18, which is my big kick now. (And I do feel a kinship between those two.) And Roucel's Dans Tes Bras is so strange and beautiful (I keep thinking I'm going to try and wear it, though it didn't really seem "me" when I reviewed it) - I wonder what you make of that one?

Katie

Katie,

I thought Turin claims he ignores companies that won't give him samples. At least that was his explanation why he's never written a word on Montale. How do you know perfumers? And without even mentioning KP Smells? Do you just call up Fabrice and start talking shit about Luca Turin? Gosh, you're the very definition of a bonne vivante, aren't you?

As for your Musc Ravageur wearing - this, my friend, is where we part ways. Using the vernacular of an earlier generation, Roucel really goes for it, doesn't he? It’s so strong! At first I was worried it was the fragrance equivalent of a tattoo and I was going to have to laser off the outer layer of my skin just to get it off me. And it smelled gross.

That seems like an especially inarticulate description, I know, but I can't think of anything more appropriate to say. Might my sample have been from a bad batch? Because I've smelled lots of other Roucel scents and none of them smelled gross (Kenzo Air practically doesn't even exist). But Musc Ravageur? Wow. Gross.

I'm buying Note Vanillée next. If I get it before you try it, I'll send you some. Considering your affection for hay, what do you think of L'Artisan Parfumeur Dzing!, by the way? It has such a loyal following and while I've tried it twice, I can't really remember it.

Dan