Scentzilla!

Everyone and their dog is buzzing with news of Chandler Burr’s new NY Times T Style perfume column. You can even see his teevee apperance on the Today Show on your computer, via msnbc.com. (I only got video to work on IE, so other browsers appear to not work for the link.) I can’t help but feel happy for him and hopeful that this may influence people to look at perfumery as something beyond just the smelly junk people waste money on. Why we as a culture undervalue our sense of smell is beyond me (clearly.) Our noses can smell molecules, for crying out loud. Isn’t that neat? That’s neat.

Burr made much to do about his use of a four star rating system in early publicity, but I guess he’s going with five stars now. Eh, whichever. In a little celebratory ode to his new column, I will be rating by star today. You might call it an homage; you more likely will call it an idiotic rip-off. But in my defense, I’d like to point out that Burr never says which kind of stars he’s giving out. I’d like to rectify that oversight. Except mine is based on four stars, because I didn’t plan on five back when I started writing this stupid post. And also, I am too lazy to resize everything to fit again.

LuckyScent - Untitled #1 by Yosh Han

Untitled is a collection of fragrances commissioned by LuckyScent with various perfumers to create unique selections for their customers. This first of the series by Yosh Han is much softer, doughier than I thought it would be from reading the notes. The aroma implies the warmth of honey while losing the sticky feral sweetness. #1 features spices that remind me of pastry: they’re rolled out, dispersed thinly across the whole fragrance. You never bite into a big satisfying chunk of anything in this fragrance. I can’t help but wish #1 had a big growly animalic note inside it, but then, that’s a trap to judge a perfume on how you wish it were rather than as it is. (A trap, by the way, that I am guilty of falling into all too frequently.) At the base is a litttle myrhh, and mostly musk, but it’s a very vintage-feeling, sweet powdery musk. #1 is not great, but it’s nice.

Untitled #1 earns 2 Sigur Ros

Thierry Mugler - Alien

Alien is not so bad as some would have it believed. It starts with a huge jump of jasmine and a sandalwood undercurrent. Alien is loud, but then, jasmine in any great quantity simply won’t shut up, so that’s not surprising. What is surprising is what a big part neroli plays here, growing proportionate in volume to the jasmine as it wears. A slight green springy twinge pops up, but that’s about the extent of the middle. Alien dries down to an almost soapy amber, with a woodiness that is not much softer than the other notes here. Ultimately, this fragrance shrieks like a basilisk. And like a basilisk’s shriek, there is no real message, the deafening cry alone is the sole aim. Nevertheless, I cannot help but feel that 50 years from now, someone will find a bottle of this at an estate sale, spray it on, and then bemoan they just don’t make ‘em like they used to. Heh.

Alien is awarded 1/2 a Sigourney Weaver… and 2 Tommy Lees (big show, little backbeat)

Lolita Lempicka - Au Masculin Fraicheur

D.O.A.

Victim is male. Appears to have been injured with masculine fragrance cliches, then bludgeoned with musk. Musk was dark but only lightly used, which we can determine by the low impact of the fatal wounds. Key suspect has not been taken into custody, since it is as yet undetermined if this was premeditated murder, or an accidental homicide.

Masculine au Fraicheur receives one William Peterson, mostly because I want someone to explain what the hell happened here.

Prince Matchabelli - Cachet

Hey! A hyacinth-bearing scent that not only can I bear, but actually enjoy! Neat. Cachet may come across as old-fashioned, or more likely, dated, but smells nice whatever the case. If you can stand a slightly thin formula, enjoy tart jasmine and roses, and like rather acetonal chypre and wood combos (think Magie Noire or Nocturnes edt) then this may be worth trying out. Cachet would make a nice choice for shoppers on a budget.

Cachet wins 2 Princes (thank god he’s reformed from his QWERTY hating ways, so we can all go back to typing about him, free from fear)

Nanette Lepore - Shanghai Butterfly

This fragrance begins with twist that smells like the unripened pears still hanging on my backyard tree. Alas that fades within seconds. Then I’m left with the same apple/cedar/musk combination a ton of wannabe D&G Light Blue fragrances are using these days. I still kind of like it, though. It’s formulaic, but since I already like the formula, and because Shanghai Butterfly offers a dewy softness that Light Blue lacks, I found myself enjoying it. I’d never pay anywhere near full price for a bottle, however: it’s pretty but kind of dumb.

Shanghai Butterfly earns one Mariah Carey, and one Ashton Kutcher.

DSH Perfumes - La Plage

What an lovely variation on cucumber. La Plage falls within the marine genre, and I’d place it as an ocean fragrance. The notes feel chilly and smoothly blended, but not entirely abstract as a whole. La Plage calls to mind the experience of tasting salt air on the wind while staring at the sea. La Plage soothes craggy nerves, but not without a touch of melancholy. Its aroma may not cure all that ails you on a rough day, but I sure bet it helps. La Plage is a limited edition, and will not be available after Labor Day.

3 Robert Smiths for La Plage

Serge Lutens - Gris Clair

Gris Clair transparently sends up cold, cold lavender, which is contrasted with warm, warm woods. Sometimes from a distance, the smoke from a forrest fire can appear hazy, like a thick and illusionary mist. And so it goes here. The ashes are so misty as to draw a beautiful gauze across the lavender, rather than a chocking burnt sensation. As it dries down, the fragrance turns surprisingly vanillic on me, which is wonderful. (Note about my skin: if a vanilla bean so much as passes by the bottle, I tend to believe that I found vanilla in the juice, so this may not wear that way on anyone else for all I know.) For those who prematurely declared the death of lavender, Gris Clair will graciously reintroduce you to that admittedly ubiquitous note from perfume history. Clearly lavender is capable of rocking contemporary noses if given a chance. It was once said that 50 Million Elvis Fans Can’t Be Wrong, and nearly fifty years later it turns out they are still aren’t wrong. Perhaps the lavender fans have always been onto something, too.

Gris Clair gets 2 1/2 Elvises (Elvii?) and 1 Phoenix, because lavender will rise from the ashes… uh, again.

I’ve been a bad, bad blogger. I’ve had too little time to write, and mostly, nothing I’ve tried lately has moved me. Please forgive some of my vitriol, and perhaps chalk it up as a reaction against my general ennui with new releases. It’s like that line in Wayne’s World: I once thought I had perfume mono for an entire two weeks. It turned out I was just really bored.

Demeter Earthworm

Name alone caused me to order Earthworm unsniffed. Here Demeter attempts to transliterate the aroma of digging up earthworms into a bait can as a fragrance. They come close, but not quite. The dirt element is as well done as ever by Demeter, which is paired with a tart, perversely sweet note to ostensibly mimic the nightcrawlers. What it vaguely reminds me of is a rhubarb patch with ripening stalks, not worms.

They get an A+ for inspiration, but a C- for execution.

Demeter Black Russian

I would think the trick with trying to parlay vodka into a perfumery note lies in the fact that good vodka doesn’t particularly smell. The attempt at vodka is akin to the attempt at cream in the new Pepsi Jazz diet soda: it’s creamy-ish and only if you want it to be. Otherwise it’s some weird flavor that it’s own synthetical thing. The vodka is vodka-ish, and by vodka-ish, I mean “dude, whatever.” I do smell strong coffee liqueur and a whole heapin’ shot of vanilla. Which is nice enough.

I give a D+ for the Black Russian, but a C+ for making a suprisingly pleasant Tia Maria® recreation that has fantastic staying power for a Demeter.

Ferragamo Incanto Charms

This fruity-floral fragrance bears the following: nameless watery fruit and floral notes, white musk and cedar, and the miasma of being easily mistaken for, like, at least twenty other scents already out there.

Ferragamo gets a D on this little extra credit assignment, though a gold star for the bottle is attached at the top of the paper.

Guerlain Insolence

The latest offering by Guerlain has been extensively reviewed by my beauty blogging peers. The general consensus seems to be that it’s not half bad. Too bad that implies it’s only half good. Fruity seems to be the direction perfumery at large is going in, and I don’t blame the company for trying to make their own mark upon the contemporary view of the genre. I can’t help but feel this whole trend was driven, starting fifteen years or so ago, by the popularity of the cheap Victoria’s Secret, et al, body sprays to create an upscale market for weightless, obvious fruit cocktails. This fragrance leaves me bored, despite the good quality of composition. Insolence sports notes of berries, rose, and violet leaf, with smokey sandalwood, cedar, and musk at the base. Hilary Swank is the hook Guerlain is using to catch consumers as the face of Insolence. Good luck with that: I’m sure someone, somewhere, cares. Pity that hook isn’t baited with a fragrance that cannot be resisted. Insolence ain’t insolent, but it is a perfectly cromulent perfume. I feel Insolence smells a heck of a lot nicer than a ton of new releases this year, for whatever that’s worth.

Guerlain earned straight As on the homework, but with the final test essay, it disappoiningly only landed a B.

Philosophy: The Fragrance

Juicy with lemons and oranges, and spic-and-span with musk, this fragrance is a dream. Unfortunately, it’s one of those dreams where you’re at work, so that even in your sleep you’re filing paperwork, having boring conversations with your boss about inventory, and sitting at the break room table to eat a cup of yogurt your coworker has labeled “DO NOT EAT! Property of Marge!” In other words, it’s rote, perfunctory, and interesting only if purloining others’ food (for thought) is fine by you. The Fragrance is a decent offering in the clean genre, very wearable. Still… meh.

Philosophy barely passes with a C- and a note from its teacher to “Come see me after class, please. We need to talk about your work.”

Antoine & Lili Holy Champa

I’ve always wondered what incense would smell like if it were a coma victim. No wait, no I haven’t. Why did they bother making this? Good lord. It’s wanly pleasant. It has a little incense to start, but none of the strong vanillic lilt I tend to like in nag champa, and the incense doesn’t last more than a half second. After the incense fades away it’s mostly a neroli fragrance, and a pale unconscious one at that, with a perceived touch of patchouli. Woohoo. Yippee. Super fabulous. Zzzzzzz.

Antoine & Lili have been requested to resubmit their work for credit if they want to pass the class, and are reminded that a dunce’s cap is still a dunce’s cap, even if it looks like a pretty pink cardboard flacon sleeve.

(For the curious, visit Antoine & Lili’s site to experience ADHD as animation. I swear, watching that obscenely colored Flash intro is like going through some weird online shopping version of a Stroop Task. The words say Antoine & Lili, but I feel like the correct answer must be PINK. Or green. Or blue? I don’t know, my eyes and brain are aching after watching that.)

Valentino V

No one will remember V twenty years from now, but I rather like it. The composition isn’t particularly original or riveting, yet that’s not to say it doesn’t work. Its aroma feels sexy while leaning neither towards gauche nor reserved. Of course, its mix of roses and warm woody amber appeal to me personally. V pretty much covers the same territory as Tauer Perfumery’s Le Maroc, only Le Maroc does it better and more distinctively. However, I could wear this happily, and not be embarrassed to tell folks what I’ve dabbed on for the day. That’s not something I could say about too many new releases. In this batch of reviews, Insolence is the superior fragrance, but I’d rather wear Valentino V all the same.

Valentino V earned a solid B on all the course work, and V has been chosen as the lucky student who gets to present its paper at the front of class.

Holy Champa photo from LuckyScent, all other photos from Sephora.

Several of us perfume bloggers made an exchange of mystery samples with one another recently, sending out vials of fragrance to two victims with no knowlege of what the vials might contain. You might say it’s a guessing game of sorts. (I received samples from March at Perfume Posse, who will be posting her reveals soon, and from Marina, who has already written about them.) The recipients of MY mystery samples were Ayala, of SmellyBlog, and Marlen, of Perfume Critic. Both shared great insights and are such utterly astute observers. I was thrilled to be able to victimize them.

First up, Sleep by the Light of the Moon

Ayala says:

Vintage. Reminds me vaguely of vintage Chantilly with leathery and dry undertones yet an overall sweet smoothness. I really like this one!

The top is very muted, but you can still smell some remains of citrus and of course – an aldehydic and leathery opening. The heart is of rose and jasmine but mostly the very appealing (in fact, addictive!) notes of myrrh and Saxon moss. Base notes are earthy and leathery and very Chypre, with vetiver, oakmoss and leather, but the final dry down is
musky in a very Shalimaresque way.

Marlen says:

Yum! This is nice - smells somewhat vintage to me. Musky basenotes earn the first “yum” while a powdery aldehyde in the top give it that retro feel. I would definitely wear this. Let’s see where it goes. It does smell familiar in that “3rd grade teacher I had in 1983″ way. Something is persisting in the base that holds my attention. It’s as if this scent has two characters - one decidedly feminine and older, and the other, risque and adventurous. My first thought on this one is Hammam Bouquet by Penhaligon’s but as it dries it loses some of its initial kick and what remains is a warm powdery shadow of the initial accord.

What is it?

Sleep By the Light of the Moon was… the infamous Jardanel by Jean Desprez in eau de cologne. I thoroughly enjoyed reading both takes on it, and frankly, I prefer their assessments to my own. It really DOES have two characters going on, and the swooning florals layed across skankier notes IS addictive. Sadly, the cologne mostly lacks a spicy quality some folks report finding in the parfum, but my little bottle has weathered the ravages of time well because it was still sealed. Jardanel shines with allegory, a story with a hidden story. What a pity this discontinued Desprez has largely been forgotten. At least we still have Bal a Versailles around, sigh.

By the by, the alias of this scent was chosen from the chorus of a John Doe song, “By the Light,” off his out of print solo album, Meet John Doe. It’s one of those records I am appalled that more people never discovered at large. APPALLED! I happen to particularly enjoy “By the Light,” with lyrics both simple and true; it touches me deeply. I had a terrible time making a good clip. The song and the album featuring it truly merit listening in whole. EDIT: Ooooh, it can be found still, and for cheap, as a used CD at Djangos, which I can personally vouch for both as an online and brick and mortar store. Excellent customer service there in my experience.

All the aliases I used are song titles from various artists, except for this one, because I so love the whole line.

Brand New Cadillac

Ayala says:

Sweet, rosy, vanillic, powdery, girly, the tuberose note vaguely reminiscent of Poison. There is something very 80’s about it for sure – must be the particular nuances of musk and tuberose…

Starts with a suave rosewood note that is there to balance a blast of tuberose, which is rather creamy, with a hint of green. A luscious heart of white florals – creamy and slightly fruity – jasmine, ylang ylang, orange blossom, gardenia. The orange blossom is very creamy, and almost reminds me of a creamsicle… The base is mostly a powdery musk (for
reference: it’s reminiscent of that of Clair de Musc or the musk you find at the base of No. 5), accompanied by bittersweet tonka bean. I really like this, it’s a soft, sweet, powdery white floral. I have never smelled it before.

Marlen says:

Ouch! This one hurts! It immediately smells familiar and I know that I know this. It’s a heavy perfumey scent that has quite a bit going on and a great bouquet of basenotes. My first thought is Quelques Fleurs by Houbigant but I don’t recall it well enough to make a definite conclusion. As it relaxes, I get a sweet orange blossom note and that pesky feeling that I know this even better than I had initially thought. There’s something Creedlike about it as well, very vintage floral. As it settles it simplifies and I get a rosey jasmine note. What the heck could this be? It’s definitely not for me and not something I would buy for someone else. Just too much of a good thing here.

What is it?

Wow! Talk about a divergence of opinion! Between “Ouch! This one hurts!” to “soft, sweet, powdery white floral,” you’d think they tried two completely different fragrances. It’s striking. This is Sirene by Vicky Tiel in eau de parfum, a fragrance that challenges the wearer. The first time I ever tried it, I had the same reaction as Marlen. GAHHHH! But something about it kept drawing me in for more test sniffs, and several months later I realized I had fallen in love. It’s unabashedly and aggressively female, which I mean in the best of ways. Sirene features amber in a manner not unlike Quelques Fleurs does, and I really get where Marls is coming from there. I’m delighted to see Ayala also appreciated the vanillic lilt to it, too: mysteriously, many folks seem to miss this aspect of it? I don’t know why that is. Perhaps the vanilla gets lost under the sharp aldehydic powder? I think Sirene can be simultaneously attractive and off-putting to some folks, whether it’s due to the weirdly tannic peony that straps itself to the jasmine, rose, and orange blossom, or the near sourness of the bouquet I can’t quite say. Sirene bears out a “in your face, bitches” floral message to some folks, making it a perfume seemingly made for perfume-lovers only. Please take a chance to test Sirene, and then retest again later on down the road: it intoxicates in the most maddening manner over time. It is found really frequently at Nordstrom Rack for a discount if you have one of those nearby. I believe it may be discontinued, but I’m not sure?

Hermit McDermitt

Ayala says:

This green frogy-juice feels like a lemongrass tea sweetened with honey and made of steeping the fresh long fuzzy leaves – I can feel their roughness on my tongue as I sip it (well, I mean, when I smell the perfume! Got carried away here for a second in the olfactory whirlpool…). The galbanum is very dominant, but in a most appealing way as its balsamic qualities shine through and any sharpness is rounded off so all you get is the green of a fresh cut grass and sappy tree branches. There is geranium, lemongrass, galbanum and honey at the top and heart notes. The dry down is rather earthy, with patchouli, cedar and sandalwood and that are finally taken over by woody and earthy vetiver.

Marlen says:

Soapy limes. Interesting. This is the scent of bathroom soap at the local Red Roof Inn, or so I imagine. Really not too much to say here except that it’s very “old world men’s toiletries”. I imagine this to be something from Caswell-Massey or maybe Pecksniff. It’s unusual when compared to today’s aromas, but might be a little too vintage for my own tastes. I like the chalky, powdery basenote…really works well against the lime. Sadly, it’s incredibly short-lived and all the citric goodness quickly fades to leave the scent of Lysol.

What is it?

Interesting to look at how a gender breakdown enters into play with Hermit McDermitt aka Green Grass & Sunshine eau de parfum by V’Tae. I suppose poor Marls is sick to death of cologne-y fragrances, what with being innudated by them in the masculine fragrance counters all too frequently. I’m at a loss to describe it as anything other than baseball and lemonade. Ayala’s perceptions are (I’m certain) dead on in the analysis, and are a welcome revelation into the make up of it. Thank you Ayala for that break down, it’s much apperciated!

Last, but not least, we have The Soul of a Man

Ayala says:

This smells a lot like many other sweet and clean musks that I smelled before, so I really don’t have a lot to add: Coty’s Musk Vanilla, Comptoir Sud Pacifique’s Musc Alize – these are the two scents that are the most similar to “The Soul of a Man”. I like musky scents like this, but I don’t find I have much to say about them. A comfort scent, with peachy top notes, a hint of white floral heart, and a base of clean, transparent musk and vanilla. It’s a fun, easy to wear and relaxing scent, perfect match for your favourite flannel pyjamas.

Marlen says:

Hmmm, what an odd aroma. It’s like Chopard Casmir to me but with a stronger licorice note lurking in the base…or is that absinthe? I love it and would wear it in a second. It’s sweet enough, odd enough, and familiar enough that my next thought is Douce Amere by Lutens. As it settles, there’s something quite woody and almost tropical with references to tanning lotion. This is my favorite of all the blind scents I’ve tested so far. Really looking forward to learning the identity of this one.

What is it?

I Coloniali’s Mirra Mirra feels like a lost and lonely traveller who’s found a sympathetic ear. It provokes while soothing with kindness. It’s definitely a comfort scent, really. Marlen’s observation of a licorice note killed me. Of course! How could I not see it before?! There is something like a sweet licorice tea note in it, which thanks to him I can now appreciate, though only in the top and part of the middle rather than the base. Since Ayala mentions it being musky, I admit I can totally see how that is, too. It’s not particularly musky on my skin, however. As they say, your mileage may vary, no?

This is more or less going to be how the place will look now. I have to crack down with some fixes on the site, and I’ve waited to add sidebar and other goodies until later. Hopefully I’ll have it all up and running later this week?

For the CURIOUS about WP Canvas only: I figured out what the deal with the Canvas system was - I changed many of the height definitions to auto rather than 100%, and gave the body a fixed width to allow for scrolling. IE does weird things with floats anyhow, but setting height as anything other than auto sets off a chain-reaction of weirdness.

Half the fun with some vintage fragrances is trying to figure out the provenance of inspiration behind them. The other half being to play the Name That Tune game with the notes. Gin Fizz is another older (and discontinued) Lubin, released in 1955, credited to perfumer Henri Giboulet (via Now Smell This.) The Lubin I previously reviewed, Nuit de Longchamp, felt dark and mysterious, whereas Gin Fizz is filled with joy and brightness.

Gin Fizz initially threw me. Whence goes the “gin” in “Gin Fizz?” It’s not really there. Nor is there even a hint of juniper berries.

However.

This isn’t a literal translation of a gin fizz drink. Nor is it plain ol’ gin fizz. When I realized it’s almost certainly a perfumer’s impression of a Ramos gin fizz, all was illuminated.

Citrus bursts off the top, lemonic mostly, but at turns I could swear I find trace whiffs of Rose’s Sweetened Lime Juice and something vaguely orange-y. (”Orange-y” may very well be neroli, but for whatever reason I always identify it as orange-y rather than as itself.)

It doesn’t fizz with gin and soda water. Rather, it tickles the nose with the buzz of woody-musk carbonation. The fizz smooths into an unexpected cream cake of flowers and grass. Within the drydown lurks a distinct rose and wood accord. I could make neither heads nor tails of the rose until I found a recipe for Ramos gin fizz that calls for rose water in place of the more commonly called for orange flower water. Drops of vanilla at the very base of the fragrance round out this Lubin cocktail.

Wouldn’t it be marvelous to see Gin Fizz revamped and rereleased? With the gains made in technology since it was first released, and in the hands of the RIGHT perfumer, I think Lubin could really do a bang-up job of it. A gal can dream anyhow, can’t she?

Image was manipulated, taken from an old Polident newsprint ad from the 50s

Someone You Tube‘d a “Beauty on a Budget” comedic skit from the BBC show “Touch Me - I’m Karen Taylor.” How to make perfume, heh:

Seriously want.

Don’t need it.

It’d just make us hungry all the time for no good reason.

Still?

I must own this now. And this. Also this. Plus this.

(via Boing Boing)

Lubin introduced Nuit de Longchamp I believe in 1933. (Other sources give release years of ‘34 or ‘35, but ads for it appeared in publications as early as ‘33.) Nuit de Longchamp presumably takes its name from the premiere fête thrown in the evenings for the first races at the famous horse track, Hippodrome de Longchamp. An old program stated formal dress was required of ladies for portions of the evening. No mention of the gents though, which gave me a chuckle at all the possible satorial choices that could have been made, heh.

My bottle dates approximately from the late 40s or very early 50s. The flacon’s stopper would indicate to our modern eyes a skeleton key. However the shape is an ode to lanterns, in keeping with the racing theme.

The juice I have is nearly dead, but not quite. It still is able to whisper its message from the past, a ghost with a hoarse throat. (*Must fight urge to write that as a horse throat*)

The oakmossy chypre still conveys, with a floral bouquet and touch of green, bearing the sparkling sweetness of fruit. It’s rather like Peach Os, meaning there is “peach” but not any actual fruit. Some serious musk is wrapped around the fragrance, but who knows if this is due to age or if it is part of Nuit de Longchamp’s essential character. I perceive a bit of cedaric woodiness at the base, as well as what seems like a speck of spice? Dunno, it’s hard to tell one way or another. Sigh.

Ach! What self-torture! Sniffing at a raspy vintage perfume makes me pine to understand how it must have smelled when new. A certain “masculinity” of Nuit de Longchamp leads me to think it must have been quite distinctive in the day, especially because it was intended for women. This is the sort of perfume that can make a perfume-addict chase the dragon: buying bottle after bottle in search of the penultimate fix. Is there a twelve step for this phenomenon yet? I may need one…

Ad image from delcampe.be, however, one can view other ads from various time periods for Nuit de Longchamp over at Okadi.

David Ray’s new blog, Makeup Beat, has posted a link to hear the new song Rufus Wainwright wrote for the upcoming Viktor & Rolf perfume release, Antidote. You can find his post by clicking here.

You know what the Givenchy house really needs to shake things up? More spin-offs of fucking Amarige.

Feel the pulse
and vibration
and the
rumbling
force
Somebody
is out there
beating
the dead horse.”

- Bob Dylan “Man in the Long Black Coat”

Amarige Mariage is flipping Diet Nirmala (current), which is itself like a foofy Fat-Free Angel. Fruits, florals, patchouli, vanilla, bleh. Wake me when it’s over. Another review of Mariage is located over at Victoria’s Own. I’m lacking motivation to write anything else about it.

I was really anticipating Ange ou Démon, on the basis of the notes. And because of the name. I know, I know, the name shouldn’t be a factor. But it’s a great one. “Ange ou Démon” implies something almost mythical, like those old dead demigods who could act both sublimely wicked and supremely benevolent in their stories.

I do rather like this creamy little fruity-floral, but it’s nothing that blows me away. Nothing mythical here. I keep reading the official notes in disbelief. On me, this fragrance is like an herbal version of Flowerbomb Extreme, with a touch of what I perceive as a berry-like intonation, and a clean shower-fresh feel. That alone wouldn’t recommend it to me, but on the drydown I sense a little bit of something burnt. The burnt perversely redeems it for me. I won’t rush out to buy Ange, but if I got it as a gift I wouldn’t thumb my nose at it. It’s a winner… I guess. However, this does nothing smell-wise to put some prestige or leadership back into the Givenchy Parfums line. You can read some other lukewarmly approving reviews at both Victoria’s Own and Legerdenez.