Scentzilla!

Just as a disclaimer, this is a bit of a drive-by sniffing post. Some were tried during shopping expeditions, and other sampled but briefly. But I figured I better write it all down before I forget… (Others were utterly forgotten, and some, like Guerlain’s Sous le Vent, I’m still puzzling over.) I’m in a listy mood, I guess.

Also, I have no answer whatsoever for the person who found this blog using this search term, but maybe one of you guys do? (And if you do, I’m thinking I ought to write an I.A.Q., or Infrequently Asked Questions, for Scentzilla at some point.)

Since I was looking at my stats anyhow to see how people found this site, I was strangely pleased to see that according to Google, I am the world’s #1 source for angry rambling! My thanks to everyone who reads my angry rambling! \

So, uh, anyhow, on with the perfume reviews:

Rich Hippie ~ Wild Thing
I smell lily of the valley, slightly creamy from a touch of vanilla, and jasmine at first. The dry down unveils a spicy rose and wood (guessing at cedar and woody amber) combo, but with an earthy feel, which I presume must be coming from the listed orris note. It’s quite nice, lovely actually, but not nearly so nice as to justify that flipping $255 per half-ounce price tag. Rich hippie? No, hippie without a cause. The company hilariously states that “Prior to World War II, all fine perfume was 100% natural and chemical free.” I don’t know whether to laugh at the inaccurate totality of this sentence, or just roll my eyes. I think I’ll go with a well-placed *snerk*. Moreover, as Robin from Now Smell This points out, nowhere on their site do they specifically guarantee their own perfumes are 100% natural, though it is implied. Sadly, there’s something in this perfume that irritates my skin, so do use caution if you have sensitive skin. (Please see the review from Now Smell This or this one from C’est Chic for other takes on it.)

Niki Taylor ~ Begin
Citrus drops and lily of the valley at top, but really, it’s mostly Brach’s Jelly Nougat candies. As a sidenote, didn’t these candies used to be rectangle shaped? I could swear they used to be called something else, too. I’m sure there’s other “stuff” in Begin, but who cares? So dreadfully dull I didn’t even bother past the first spray onto paper from the tester bottle. Maybe I’m wrong, it could have been an off day, but I won’t be revisiting Begin unless anyone reading this can make a compelling case for it.

Cartier ~ Delices de Cartier
Yet another new fruity-floral. I’d sigh in boredom, except as it turns out, I like it. Whatever will become of me? I can’t say it’s full bottle worthy personally, but I did enjoy it, and I appreciate its sultry appeal. Strawberry wine, plummy liqueur, and Shasta black cherry soda, with smokey intonations of woody amber and vanilla across light florals in the dry down. Sound a little trashy? It’s not. It’s gloriously slutty! It’s the type who gets a little too tipsy at the party, acts a little too flirty, talks a little too much, and becomes the woman of 1,000 arms, all stretched out to give sideways hugs to every male (and some of the females, too.) Sluts are good people, y’all. After all, we all have our slutty moments. I attach no negativity to that word personally: I think it’s societal code for “any woman who is the least bit sexual.” Worth looking into the parfum if you’re a fan of fruity-florals, and worth a sniff even if you’re only a wannabe slut. As yet another sidenote, Sarah Bunting has written the best essay I’ve ever read on the word “slut.” I find myself referencing her essay in conversation whenever the topic arises, and everyone and their dog should read it. She’s a wonderful writer. (For more on Delices, please see Bois de Jasmin, Victoria’s Own, MonkeyPosh, Pink Manhattan, Perfume Posse, and Now Smell This for other reviews.)

Lubin ~ Idole de Lubin
Slap on some patchouli. Open one antique cedar trunk. Pack it full of molasses cookies. Take a swig of Jack straight from the bottle, wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and throw into the trunk, too. Voila! Idole. Once you eliminate its silly layer of exoticism that is about as authentic as a tiki bar, you’ve got a perfectly enjoyable fragrance. (For more on Idole de Lubin, please see Legerdenez, Now Smell This, Bois de Jasmin, or seach for the one at Perfume-Smellin’ Things that I distinctly remember reading, but cannot link to at the moment because the permalink isn’t working as I write this.)

Just a friendly reminder to visit Fragrances & More. Special for Scentzilla readers, Fragrances & More is offering the coupon code “scentzilla” which will get you 10% off any order of $50 or more! They also offer free shipping and gift wrapping on orders over $75. Please visit by clicking the hyperlink, or on the sidebar ad at right.

As a forewarning, this is not a formal review: to describe the notes in this perfume would be a dishonest reflection of my impressions. Moreover, I feel it would be useless for me to try at this point. Perhaps there will be one forthcoming later, much later. “Spicy leather, dying embers, approaching storms” is as far as I’m willing to go at this moment. If you wish to see specific note breakdowns, please see Legerdenez or Perfume Critic for formal reviews.

Like the previous two fragrances by Tauer Perfumes, Lonestar Memories compels the senses with emotions first, rather than notes. I am undone by it. It is a masterpiece. I don’t throw that word around too much, and in fact a quick search reveals that the only other perfume I’ve labeled a masterpiece on this blog is Jean Desprez’s Bal a Versailles. (Though I must point out, Iris Gris and Shalimar amongst others also reign as masterpieces.) This is the best leather-themed fragrance I have smelled in a long while, and at the very least, it is the perfume of the year, which I say with confidence though we’re only halfway through 2006.

It is not merely a “cowboy perfume,” nor a “prairie perfume.” Despite the namesake state embraced by title, it is not the smell of some place you can geographically locate: it can not be travelled over by road or by plane. Lonestar Memories smells of the examined life. Inside there is joy, and there is tiny heartbreak, existing only in reverie. The scent unravels into the consideration of past experiences, and pinings for future joys and heartbreaks.

The only prairie I know well, that of South Dakota, is struck by sudden daytime storms that I am only ever able to explain by comparing them to bed clothes ripping free from a clothesline. Out of the sunshine, comes dark wind and rain, like a sheet passing overhead. You can acutally feel and see the storms rise up to meet you across the horizon. Moody weather sails over the land, only to finish as suddenly as it began. The sheet’s shadow quickly flies overhead. It passes by and lets the sun shine in through blue skies again. All occurs within an hour, as if nothing had happened at all. Here are some photos that show how it happens: click here to see ’storm’ by Flickr member JKonig, or you can click here to see ‘air by Flickr member gradschool4life.

Why do I bring this up? I don’t know, precisely. I never thought about this type of day storm when growing up there. I only realized and admired it upon revisiting South Dakota when I got older. What an amazing phenomenon. It’s an experience unto itself, but is also a metaphor for something I cannot name.

Perhaps my connection here is this: Lonestar Memories smells of a bittersweet materialization of things taken for granted, things only thought of in passing at the time but appreciated later. I am reminded by its fragrance of my homesickness for a place I do not call home.

Lonestar Memories is scheduled for wide release on the 15th of this month. I urge you to give it a try. There is nothing else quite like it. You can find more information by going to Andy Tauer’s blog or by seeking out his website at Tauer Perfumes. The order information can be found directly through Tauer Perfumes at this page.

*I feel I must run a disclaimer here that I am working with Laurent Le Guernec at Made by Blog to create my own leather scent. It may be a silly thing to worry about, but I felt like it would be unethical not to mention it.

Image in this post is a photo by Flickr member patryczek i ewelinka, and is covered under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 license.

I’d received samples of two JAR Fragrances (by Joel Arthur Rosenthal, the jeweler) from a friend on the East Coast a while back, but had eschewed sniffing at them. I told myself no perfume is worth what they are charging. They are of the “if you have to ask, then you will need to sell your body parts on the black market to afford them” variety. Mind you, just a small part, maybe a slice of your liver which will regenerate anyhow. Still? Spendy little bottles they are.

I finally decided to go ahead and try them, since I am trying to work my way through all the samples before I buy anything new for a while. The first one I wore was Diamond Waters. I had in my mind this whole idea of riffing on Adam Smith’s diamond/water paradox, and I swear it was going to be hi-larious (this is where you roll your eyes at me now.) Except? No. This perfume is unspeakably pretty. Crap. No snarky fun for me, I guess. Diamond Waters imparts the lingering sensation of a flower bouquet in a cold chill. However, where many perfumes reveal bouquets a bundle at a time, in this fragrance you sniff at them one by one. Like cinnamon softly dusted over the foam of a cappucino, a spiciness floats above each flower, sometimes it is peppery, and sometimes it is cinnamon and clove-like. It rises off the top of white roses, florist’s carnations, and lily amongst others, which circle past my nose in a strange queue. The base is not a base. Not in the usual manner, that is. It has no weight, no intonations of persistent molecules that nail themselves to the nose. I’d ultimately classify Diamond Waters as a marine scent: a glassy “is it melon, or is it marine” note lingers all through the wear of the fragrance, but it is not ’til the perfume is winding down that I notice it. A touch of cedar seems present to my nose, but it’s invisible, hiding inside the glass of the florist’s refrigerated case. Is it worth the reported $400 for a bottle? Yes. Not that I will be buying it, but if I came into an unexpected windfall, I would.

The other sample she’d passed along my way was the Ferme Tes Yeux. I’d read Robin’s interesting review at Now Smell This , and her description of it being “heavily animalic” both intrigued and scared me. Oh good lord was she ever right - there a such a funk in it that I have to reach for an incident that happened a couple weeks ago in order to properly describe it. We’d gotten help moving from some young strapping lads, and after we’d gotten the heavier furniture moved, we fed them a lunch of beer and bones. Young strapping lads are always hungry anyhow, but after all that lifting they were ravenous, and they gnawed their way through every last barbeque rib we had. We disposed of the eaten ribs in the garbage under the sink, and then completely forgot about them. But a couple days later I walked into the kitchen and was overwhelmed by stench. “Honey, I think some rodent found its way under the crawl space and died there. Can you take a look? It smells like dead animal in here!” That’s when I remembered. Ohhhhh. Yup, dead animal all right. The cooked and eaten remains of barbequed cows and pigs. I guess being a vegetarian, that sort of smell is likely more repellant and foreign to me than to regular meat eaters, but boy was it piquantly strong. THAT is the closest I can approximate to the funk of Ferme Tes Yeux. It is one note among many, however, and as it dries down, the animalic power transforms into a musky green sensation. The green shifts into a honeyed smell, like a cross between natural beeswax and Bit O’ Honey candy. I spot jasmine, and then freesia there, too, which winds around the honeyed note and turns the whole perfume into a floral and indolic romp through the farmyard. Ferme Tes Yeux is crazy. Crazy like a fox, though? Or crazy like crazy? Hard to say. But it’s brilliant, and I know there is someone out there who could wear this as if it were forever meant to be.

JAR Fragrances are not available anywhere BUT JAR boutiques, the adresses of which are the only bits of information one can cull from the official site.

Scentzilla would like to welcome its new sponsor, Fragrances & More. Special for Scentzilla readers, Fragrances & More is offering the coupon code “scentzilla” which will get you 10% off any order of $50 or more! They also offer free shipping and gift wrapping on orders over $75. Please visit by clicking the image below, or on the sidebar ad at right.

Fragrances & More carries Bond No. 9’s infamous Chinatown (one of my picks for the best of 2005), the lovely Agraria line, Creative Scentualization, Monyette Paris, Korres, Jimmy Belasco candles (of which I have written about Absinthe), Pilar and Lucy, Kai, and many others.

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A while back, those wacky gals from Perfume Posse wrote a post describing their picks for genius and evil genius perfumes, and invited me to share my own. I thought I’d match up each perfume to a specific genius (evil or otherwise) and the first one I thought of was The Brain from the now-gone Warner Bros. cartoon “Pinky and The Brain.” But then I got the theme song for the cartoon stuck in my head. Now all I can think of is…

They’re Pinky and The Brain,
Yes, Pinky and The Brain
One is a genius
The other’s insane.
They’re laboratory mice
Their genes have been spliced
They’re dinky
They’re Pinky and The Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain
Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain
Brain!

Before each night is done
Their plan will be unfurled
By the dawning of the sun
They’ll take over the world.

They’re Pinky and The Brain
Yes, Pinky and The Brain
Their twilight campaign
Is easy to explain.
To prove their mousey worth
They’ll overthrow the Earth
They’re dinky
They’re Pinky and The Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain
Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain

NARF!

I additionally wanted to write a brief post with some summer fragrance suggestions. So, here are my Brain summer perfumes, which are genius, and my Pinky summer perfumes, which are insane. Obviously, one can’t help but love them both. Okay: so *I* can’t help but love them both.

Brain, Brain, Brain, Brain… Brain!

1.) Compagnia Delle Indie ~ Donna. It is so fresh, so lovely, and a perfume I always keep out to be handy, because I wear it too often to put in the dark of a cabinet. It’s my number one compliment-getter, and as a compliment-whore, I am deeply gratified by that.

2.) i Profumi di Firenze ~ Ambra del Nepal. The simplicity and vibrancy of the scent feels refreshing in summer. It’s a great choice for those who love amber-vanilla fragrances, but have a tendancy to wear those notes as cloying during hot humid days.

3.) Hermes ~ Terre d’Hermes. A single elegant line is the feature of this scent’s development, and while it may seem to be plain, I find it a terribly satisfying fragrance.

4.) Carven ~ Ma Griffe vintage parfum. Normally, I might not suggest a discontinued and vintage version of a fragrance, but the old Ma Griffe is rather easily located (thanks eBay!) Its clean green and spicy character refreshes and awakens me on sleepy sunny days.

5.) Vicky Tiel ~ Sirene. Sirene is perfect for summer evenings, when the wind starts to pick up and the hot cement in the city finally begins to cool. Sirene is the perfume made especially for perfume-lovers. The complexity inside it is one you have to grow to love, and once you do, you are forever hooked on it. Rose and peony, violet, and a smidge of vanilla, all cower under a sharp blade of powder. Sirene plays as if it were punk music: in your face, loud, and without apology. But this punk music is played by skilled musicians with nuanced phrasing. Think The Clash rather than the Sex Pistols.

NARF! The lovably insane Pinky

1.) Versace ~ The Dreamer. In a comment at Perfume Posse, I described it thusly: “On me it’s neither ‘caramel-leather heaven’ nor ‘auto-parts-Tootsie-roll hell.’ It’s weirder and better. I’d say it’s made of Wrigley’s gum, Good n’ Plenty candies, and big old pine trees, and … gah, I dunno, I guess for me, it’s a candy shop that’s been improbably located in the middle of Mt. Hood National Forest.” You’d think with the crazy notes that it would smell like a tangled jangly mess of nerves, but… it doesn’t. It’s one of the most original “men’s” fragrances ever made, and certainly a fantastic fragrance for women.

2.) Alan Cumming ~ Cumming. Oh how do I love thee, Cumming? I could not begin to count the ways. It is my number one favorite scent for summer. There is nothing better for me than to spray on this cooling, earthy concoction to bring back the fragrant sensation of rain-splashed Pacific Northwest winter mornings. It was my favorite release of 2005, and it is one of my favorite perfumes ever. I LURVE it.

3.) Wickle ~ Chestnut & Vetiver. The combination of these two notes is scrumptious. Perhaps a little random or weird sounding, but this fragrance is nothing but fun for me. It worked on me during the cooler months, and it’s been working well for me on hot days, too. It’s not fancy, but it kicks ass.

4.) Serge Lutens ~ Arabie. Arabie is often known as sweet dessert-laden fragrance. It may sound counter-intuitive, but this scent is a summer fave of mine. Why? Because it smells gawd-awwwwful on me during the colder seasons. When I try to wear it in winter, the whole thing smells like some funky industrial cleaner. It’s as if Arabie REQUIRES the heat of June, July, and August to work on me. And boy does it. Somehow it wears as sweet without sugar, and it’s gourmand inflections wear as gently spicy-nutty without reminding me of actual food.

5.) Comme Des Garcons ~ Odeur 53. I can’t place this scent anywhere in particular. Odeur 53 creates nothing but utter abstractions. New car, computer keyboards, formica counter tops. And yet, despite the industrial suggestions, it’s quite a light, rather airy floral fragrance that also suggests the tops of daisies, dandilion bouquets, lilies and jasmine. It is honestly the weirdest of all these “Pinky” summer picks, and almost as random as Pinky’s responses to the question The Brain asks him during every episode… “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Pinky?”

Here are some properly written “Genius and Evil Genius” essays by other bloggers:

• Perfume Posse
• Perfume Smellin’ Things
• Scenteur7

EDIT: And, like a dolt, I forgot one: Cait’s timely post on Genius Summer Scents.

Video from youtube.com. Top image from duryea.org and second from clampettstudio.com

Imagine if honeysuckle was Napoleon, leading a powerful army of vanilla behind it. That all sounds well and good at first,

That, unfortunately, is how I wear Givenchy Organza. (Organza is credited to Sophie Labbe, via Basenotes, because Givenchy’s website is useless.) No matter how many chances I give Organza, it ends up meeting its Waterloo, in the loo, under running water from the faucet. I am sick with envy over those who carry it off well. On some folks, it smells airy and sweet - divine, even. A touch of incense is present on my skin, which would possibly provide some relief, but it’s buried under a pile of sugary florals, vanilla, and ambery woods. On others this touch of spicy incense smells seductive. On me? About as happy as cannon wheels stuck and sinking in mud. Sure, it technically can go off, but it doesn’t work so well when it encounters my skin.

I was encouraged by Givenchy’s earlier limited edition release of their Amarige Millesime 2005 (an excellent blend of extra mimosa into original Amarige) that I might fare better with the new Organza Millesime. Perhaps this Millesime version, a blend of a specific jasmine crop from India into the original formula, might win me over.

The Organza Millesime sadly is not nearly as successful as the Amarige 2005. The promised jasmine is indeed featured prominently, and quite loudly so in the first half hour of wear. To me, many jasmine notes begin (and end, too) clean like laundry detergent. In this fragrance, I have to wait until the laundry’s done before I can perceive the other notes. Ahhh, there it is, Organza, lurking in the dry down finally, but it’s ligher and certainly less sugary than the original. Perhaps the addition of jasmine is Organza’s land war in Russia: it’s not defeated, but weakened and thinned out by the effort. As a result, I think the Millesime version would be a nice choice for those who would like Organza original if only it didn’t wear so heavy and oppressive on them. It also might prove interesting to those who are already fans of the fragrance and would welcome a summer-appropriate twist on it. However, if you love that deep sweetness of Organza, I think this version will come as a disappointment.

The price of this LE doesn’t bite too hard, because like the Amarige Millesime, it is only nominally more expensive than a bottle of the regular stuff. I’ve yet to see it on store shelves, but it is available online via Sephora.com.

Images poorly “photoshopped” by me. Honeysuckle bit comes from thegardenhelper.com, Napoleon paintings from pk.ac.th and fuenterrebollo.com, respectively.

Laurent’s response to my perfume proposal is now published at Made by Blog. I will post my letter back to him on Friday!

Lanvin introduced Vetyver in 1964, at a time when many other perfume houses at the time were also introducing vetiver fragrances.

With the original Vetyver, Lanvin spiked the grassy green fragrance with a tenacious lemon note, but differentiated theirs with a suprising and woody nutmeg undertone. To my modern sensibility, Vetyver seems as if it were inspired by lemon verbena, because the lemon aroma is so unextracably twisted into the grasses. It is a scent filled with the cheery possibilites of summer, with the spiciness adding a layer of dressy sophistication.

From the grass-stained knees of playing on suburban lawns, to wearing the “Sunday best” during an afternoon stroll in the park, Vetyver would fit anyone’s idea of the perfect sunshine day.

In 2003, Lanvin definitively abandoned this bright but spicy version with the introduction of a “more modern” version. Via Lanvin’s official site, perfumer Francois Robert is credited with the work on the new Vetyver. (Lanvin’s site is shockingly… helpful, especially the perfume history timeline. Informative even, compared to some corporate sites.) To a certain extent, it is less “modern” and more “trendy,” sporting an aquaceous character, albeit with softly sweet florals in the heart. Only a fleeting glimpse of the spiciness that made the original so intriguing occurs. However, the base in Vetyver ‘03 reveals an nice, noticable musky cedar flourish in the dry down that the vintage lacks.

I rather do like this newer version, too. It’s the scent of heading into the garden on a blue morning, still wet from a night rain, and plucking up ripe cucumbers from the damp plants and spongey earth. Like most vetiver scents, I find it cooling and relaxing. I’m willing to bet it can be picked up for a virtual song at the discount online sites or eBay, too.

The two Vetyvers are utterly dissimilar, but both are easy and enjoyable to wear. Either one should make refreshing summer perfumes for members of either gender, just ignore that both are pegged as “masculine” scents. The funny thing with the new Vetyver is that if someone simply waved a scent strip of it under my nose without telling me what it was, and demanded I label it, I would totally guess that it must be “feminine.” There’s a softness and complexity to it that one doesn’t always encounter with men’s perfumes.

It seems a pity Lanvin didn’t choose to continue with the vintage Vetyver, and then offer their “more modern” Vetyver as a seperate fragrance. *Sigh*

And apropos of NOTHING, I present to you… the Top 11 Ways To Avoid Hamster Attacks.

Top two images from metmuseum.org, and are both details from paintings by Childe Hassam (one of my personal favorite artists, actually.) The one at left top is from his Central Park, 1892, and the second on the right is from his In the Park, 1889. Third image of my dog exploring the dense garden forest, and emerging from the hanging rainforst vines of tomato plants. Well, when you’re only “half a dog tall” (Dav Pilkey), it at least SEEMS like a forest.