Round-up: Best of the Blogs July 24, 2006Posted by scentbloggers in Uncategorized.
The best in the last week’s perfume blogging:
Anya at Anya’s Garden talks about White Light, White Heat, the white flowers, which, although deceptively fragile and innocent looking, are “the secret nose bombs of the perfume world.”
The Michelia alba blooms are like a piercing whistle, if the tuberose and lotus are like a violin.
Aromascope undertakes Project Random and does some spontaneous layering with remarkable results:
Kolnisch Juchten and Montale Jasmin Full – this can rival Bandit! Stinky and gutsy. Come closer if you dare. I’ll eat you alive, baby. Come and smell the jasmine in my dirty leather boots.
Legerdenez reviews Blue by Morgane Le Fay and finds it both understated and evocative:
Blue by Morgane Le Fay aims to conjure the blue of evening. It gives the sense that you can touch the contours of smells you cannot see in the dark. Once again, understatement is not to be underrated.
Perfume Critic revisits a profession of a fragrance model:
I loved my time as a fragrance model and consider it one of the most enjoyable part-time gigs I’ve ever worked. I showed fragrances to customers, made samples and gift baskets, shmoozed a lot, and met a lot of nice people. I had sales quotas I was expected to meet because let’s face it, to earn $20 an hour, you’ve got to ensure that your presence is responsible for sales.
March and Patty at Perfume Posse agree to disagree on the new scent by Serge Lutens, Chypre Rouge. Patty thinks that it smells “of desperation and bitter, bitter regret, and really rotten B.O.”, while March Has A Moment:
Okay, the finale — the supremely perfect, I kneel-at-your-feet part, is that this thing really does smell red. Not red like wine. Or a sunset. Red. If you were going to assign this fragrance a color in your head, red is your color. Think … cinnabar. Chinese lacquer box. Ancient spices. Dust.
Mr. Colombina at Perfume-Smellin’ Things shares “the harrowing experience of the perfume-ignorant male shopping for fragrances”:
The perfume counter sits in the middle of the department store … the furthest spot from any escapable exit. It is the cornerstone of the three most perplexing commercial entities to the common male …. The jewelry counter …the cosmetics counter and the perfume counter. History records the voyages of many brave male souls who have ventured into this Bermuda Triangle of feminine zones, never to return. What are the strange forces that dwell in this world? UFOs? Prehistoric creatures who’ve sought refuge and managed to escape man’s detection? Or is it some other supernatural power from Madison Avenue and Rue De Folie?
At Perfumery, an unusual interview takes place: Andy Tauer, a perfumer, interviews Sands, a perfumer lover…Says Sands:
Strangely I had smelled Eau de Lavande from Goutal when I was 20 in Paris, and it all came flooding back–standing transfixed staring at Cabotine in Venice on the Piazza San Marco, realizing even then in Paris that Annick Goutal was A PERSON…it all made sense. I re-discovered niche brands (started with Rose d’Ete from Rosine), began to take this interest very seriously and started to search for shops and information, books, have begun to search out contact with perfumers as artist colleagues etc.
Scentzilla reviews Coty Sands and Sable and finds that it smells “retro kitschy…but in a good way”:
Sand & Sable is not a fully functional fragrance. By that I mean it smells like someone chopped off the ends of an imaginary perfume bandwidth on it. There’s not a top per se, nor is there a real steady and strong base. It’s mostly heart notes, but the heart is big and full, simple as it is. Wildly bright gardenia, waxy tuberose, and distinct sensations of tanning lotion are the notes I smell. The effect is creamy and rich, despite the lack of development that you ordinarily get from more expensive fragrances. Once you take into account that it’s going to be a big block of scent, Sand & Sable is as enjoyable and as fun as many of the big house and niche/boutique releases.
Smelly Blog begins Osmanthus Marathon and discusses Hermes Osmanthe Yunnan, Keiko Mecheri Osmanthus and Ormonde Jayne Osmanthus:
Osmanthe Yunnan is another citrusy osmanthus, much in the same vein as Ormonde Jayne’s rendition of the flower. The osmanthus note here is buried gently under myriads of sheer veils of citrus and tea. It is subtly floral and complemented by the green floral notes of freesia, which also lends it a somewhat peppery accent – an interesting counterpoint to the apricot-skin top notes of the osmanthus flower. I like the way the tea, with its acrid and peppery personality is mingled with the greenness of osmanthus. Osmanthe Yunnan is a subtle, well done scent – but whatever amount of osmanthus there is in Osmanthe Yunnan – I still find it very under-satisfying.
Sweet Diva writes a love letter to Keiko Mecheri Loukhoum:
I repeat: There will be others. If we’re going to spend time together, this is just something you have to come to terms with. But no matter how I feel about new scents I try, no matter how I feel about those from the past that I loved (and may still love), I’m telling you, I want you around. You’re special to me. You really are. Why does love have to be so hard?
Teacakery continues The BPAL Project and reviews Bordello:
The name is quite a misnomer and the description lost in this oil. “lusty”? Well perhaps in a very airbrushed portrait of a cathouse you might find wine and crushed fruit skins signifying “snarls of pleasure”. I am more of a Mitsouko girl.
Victoria at Victoria’s Own examines a new Guerlain scent, Bois d’Armenie and judges it not particularly appealing:
Very different for a Guerlain, none of the Guerlainade here. The fragrance opens with a light medicinal benzoin note. Slowly it turns more and more like the scent of a smoky wood fire. In the final stages it softens to a barely there incense note, very close to the skin. At one point it really does smell like the burning papers of my headshop youth. While the idea of smelling like warm, woody incense, is romantic and appealing, the truth is you smell like pieces of burning incense paper. Not really all that appealing when you actually put it on. At least to me. Dry, incense, wood fire, smokiness; is just not my idea of a perfume scent. A touch of sweetness with a little more floral would have made this infinitely more wearable for me.