Old, odd, and unusual perfumes. Many modern-day perfumes smell one-dimensional and overly sweet to me. I think there's a trend now to create perfumes that are comprised of only perky and sweet ingredients, which I don't agree with. It's like smearing cake icing on your skin and calling it perfume.
It's hard to explain my idea that some parts of a perfume shouldn't necessarily smell yummy and edible on their own, because it seems contradictory -- you want the end result to smell good, right? There's a reason that strong, even animalic undertones work well in perfume: contrast, dimension, and balance.
(Someone said once that their perfect perfume would be one that made her smell like herself, only more so and awesome. I thought that was a great description.)
]]>Old, odd, and unusual perfumes. Many modern-day perfumes smell one-dimensional and overly sweet to me. I think there's a trend now to create perfumes that are comprised of only perky and sweet ingredients, which I don't agree with. It's like smearing cake icing on your skin and calling it perfume.
It's hard to explain my idea that some parts of a perfume shouldn't necessarily smell yummy and edible on their own, because it seems contradictory -- you want the end result to smell good, right? There's a reason that strong, even animalic undertones work well in perfume: contrast, dimension, and balance.
(Someone said once that their perfect perfume would be one that made her smell like herself, only more so and awesome. I thought that was a great description.)
I've spent the past couple of years slowly trying out niche perfumes to see what I liked. The problem? I've discovered I have expensive taste, and I like pre-WWII French perfumes. Thankfully, there's a thriving business in perfume decants (sample-sized bottles drawn off of larger bottles of perfume) which is perfect for someone who likes trying a wide array of scents but who doesn't need a lot of any one scent. These are the ones that see heaviest usage:
Chanel No. 5
My default perfume since my late teens (when I was probably a bit too young to wear it). Top notes of ylang-ylang, neroli, and Chanel's ubiquitous aldehydes. Middle notes of jasmine and mayrose. Bottom notes of sandalwood and vetiver. A powdery, feminine, understated floral. It's feminine but not girly.
Chanel's Cuir de Russie
If Chanel No. 5 is the woman who shows up on your doorstep for a date in a great dress and her best pearls, Cuir de Russie is the same woman showing up on your doorstep wearing only a trench coat and those same pearls, asking if you really want to go out for that date tonight. It's got the same aldehyde notes of No. 5, but wrapped around a fragrance of leather and spices. (Mandarin, Bergamot, Balsams, Spice Bush, Incense, Cade Wood, Rose, Jasmine, Ylang-Ylang) The only reason I don't wear it more often is that I haven't got a full bottle of it. I really should rectify that.
Guerlain's Mitsouko
Top notes of bergamot and rose. Middle notes of jasmine, spices, and peach. Base notes of oakmoss and wood. I had to be convinced to try this one, and almost didn't do it the first time I uncapped the bottle. In the bottle it is Too. Too much, too strong, too something. I don't go out of the house for at least 30 minutes after I put it on, just because I think it's overpowering then. When it calms down, though, it's a classy, mysterious, complex fragrance that is difficult to describe. Peaches, spices, deep mossy notes. I wear it on tough days, when I need class and hauteur to spare.
Serge Lutens' Bois de Violette
I am an idiot for falling in love with a fragrance that isn't even sold in the States. This perfume is girly. Unabashedly girly. It smells like innocence and sweetness bottled. This is my trickster perfume, the one I love to wear ironically; it's what I wear on days that I need to provide the illusion of sweetness and light when not actually intending to be either. (Or, as I said to someone whose name I shall not reveal, this is the perfume I wear when I fully intend to get in trouble that day.) Cedar, violet leaves, and violet flowers. I will have a full bottle of this soon, oh yes.
Alas, Jeff just reminded me that we are due in northwest Alabama for lunch today, and since we live in northeast Alabama, we should probably put down our laptops, get dressed, and get a move on.
The not-so-frequent list will have to wait, then.
]]>I came up with a disturbing, yet accurate, description for what the wrong perfume did to me last night. It felt like someone jammed a closed umbrella up my nose, and kept opening and closing it inside my skull. (This made it very difficult to focus on what was, otherwise, an extremely good dinner. Sorry, Jeff. Thanks for getting me home quickly.)
]]>I came up with a disturbing, yet accurate, description for what the wrong perfume did to me last night. It felt like someone jammed a closed umbrella up my nose, and kept opening and closing it inside my skull. (This made it very difficult to focus on what was, otherwise, an extremely good dinner. Sorry, Jeff. Thanks for getting me home quickly.)
However, I should note -- this perfume in question is not a bad one. It is a very good one, and a very unique one, but it is not meant to be worn by me. It's either a 5ml or an 8ml decant spray bottle, and I would be willing to give it away to someone who could wear it and love it. First person who contacts me with snail mail info gets it. (It's been claimed - thanks.)
L'Artisan's "Tea For Two"
The Perfumed Court: A spicy Oriental blend of Lapsang Souchong tea with a surge of fresh spices like ginger and anise, blended with cinnamon, honey and vanilla
It was marketed as a women's fragrance, but I'd call it squarely unisex; this scent practically screams out for a guy in a thick, comfortable sweater. When other people wear it, I smell equal amounts of tea and smoke, with hints of spices, but on my own weird skin chemistry I get nothing but smoke, smoke, smoke. Thus the painful headache.
Part 2 of this entry, "So what exactly IS it that you wear?" will follow shortly.
]]>But plans made are not always plans executed, and a 20x38 shirt was not to be found in the style of his liking, so I asked him for a second choice and he said, "Cologne." We headed to the men's fragrance department and the man behind the counter began lining up freshly-sprayed sheets of paper. We interspersed our sniffings of cologne with coffee beans, and watched as Patrick determined that his scent should be a simple, clean one.
It sounded so familiar; it was the same choice that Jeff made some time ago, when seeking a new scent of his own. They are very much different, my husband and this friend of mine, but they do share occasional flashes of similarity that make me laugh. It's as if there is a central repository of geekboy DNA that was drawn from to create the bases of their personalities.
We finished earlier than expected, and I indulged my growing fascination with perfumery by asking questions, resulting in my being pointed to scents I'd never heard of before. One in particular caught my attention, its lush (and almost edible) simplicity making me want to wallow in it.
Or, as Patrick noted, he and Jeff knew I was interested "because your invisible tail started to thump audibly."
I sprayed the fragrance on after my shower, reveling in the relative olfactory calm it produced. My preferences tend toward older, more complex perfumes; I hold great love for French classics like Cuir de Russie and Mitsouko.
The occasion? Watching improv comedy. We sat, Jeff and I, comped through the first performance but choosing to stay (and pay) for the second because we loved it, laughing out loud and relaxing against each other as the night went on. Comfort. Simplicity. No phones, no pressing deadlines, no code, just us a little dressed up and snickering until my laughs smudged my mascara against my lower eyelids.
While I am flirtatious with a few friends, Jeff and I are not the demonstrative sort. Our cues are easily missed if you don't know what to look for. From our cats, twinned halves of a whole, we've picked up the habit of nonverbal echolocation:
"Rowr?"
"Rowr."
—and there it is, the answer to the question: we know the other is there, and is listening. In the end, that's all we really want to know.
On the way back from the theatre we relived some of the better moments of the night, especially savoring the silly suggestions of mine that got incorporated into the show, and agreed that it had been an excellent day. When we climbed out of the car I marveled at the silvery sharpness of the moonlight, crisp and bright enough to cast midnight shadows, and as I concentrated for a moment I could smell the faintest cloud of scent still clinging to my skin.
"Wow. Look at that," I said. After locking up the car, Jeff looked up and nodded agreement.
I watched my feet lay silent black footprints on the Florida grass and thought to myself while walking in, yes indeed, Hanae Mori's "Magical Moon" was indeed the perfect perfume for the day—simple, calm, sweet, and clean—and I might just have to hunt up a tiny vial of it just so that in future days, I could jump back and at least smell the calm beauty of this day, even if I could not relive it.
]]>Me: Hrm…..I'm feeling damned indecisive today. *laugh* I'm sitting here knowing I should make up my mind…but find myself thinking….'mmm, nap, sunshine.'Kat: *laughing* Okay, then I'll make up your mind for you. Amy, you're going to [the for-charity Christmas bazaar]. You will leave the house at 1pm and head over here and we'll go into town together.
Amy: From my spouse: "I think you have your answer, Amy." OK.
Even I, dear readers, can occasionally take a hint. Therefore I showed up, Amy-style.
]]>Me: Hrm…..I'm feeling damned indecisive today. *laugh* I'm sitting here knowing I should make up my mind…but find myself thinking….'mmm, nap, sunshine.'Kat: *laughing* Okay, then I'll make up your mind for you. Amy, you're going to [the for-charity Christmas bazaar]. You will leave the house at 1pm and head over here and we'll go into town together.
Amy: From my spouse: "I think you have your answer, Amy." OK.
Even I, dear readers, can occasionally take a hint. Therefore I showed up, Amy-style.
Today's definition of Amy-style included a tie-dye shirt I've had since junior high, dark blue jeans, gardening sneakers, a tiny dab of Chanel No. 5 (my favorite perfume), and hair clipped up into a French twist. I truly must learn some consistency in my dress. It would confuse people less.
While walking around the bazaar, I commented to Kat once or twice about the people we passed. Why must everyone drench themselves in perfume? When my sinuses and eyes tighten up in silent screams when I pass someone by, that's how I know they're wearing too much perfume, cologne, or aftershave for their own good. I was intrigued by the gifts available for sale, but it was hard to concentrate with the clashing, drowning scents of suburbanites' Sunday-best colognes.
Somewhere in this house is a bottle of aspirin. I think I'd best find it now.
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