Peachy aldehydes that morph into peppery spice–cinnamon and clove, balsam and patchouli–then fade to oriental incense over dry powdery rose.
This one was first released in 1953–Joan Crawford wore it. It’s got a great slinky, film noir, dark-silhouette-framed-in-smoke feel… she commands all your attention until she’s done with you.
This one came out the same year.
Soapy dry rose that settles into a metallic musk that grows and grows and takes over my living room and puts its feet on my furniture.
The vanilla shows up briefly a half an hour in, but can’t compete with the ambroxan-patchouli that sits like a penny in the mouth.
An interesting and invasive modern take on an old rose.
An Ella style take of the best revenge song ever:
Strangely sweaty in a four seasons way.
First sniff is wilting tulips and grubby spring earth, then humid summer roses bloom for a bit before fall spice takes over with sweet curry funk. Finishes with a cool murky aquatic on the surface of the skin.
The notes list quince, carrot seeds, coriander and peony; benzoin and cedar and a bunch of other stuff that I can’t suss out, but would have liked to experience.
This bit of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons is much more exciting.
This one comes across as timid to me–like it wants to be Enchanted Forest when it grows up, or maybe Euphoria, but it’s afraid of the trees.
Citrus and macerated fruit, dark purple jam that turns into green tea with a hit of spice and slowly fades to a musky aquatic note with a whisper-wish of woods.
It’s nice, but needs something to give it more backbone, more identity.
Maybe Indigo just needs more mood.
Rhinestones rather than diamonds, but still fun to wear.
The tropical fruit salad opening has an orange edge that hits the back of the throat and unfortunately keeps the pear from sparkling, but it fades quickly to jasmine and warm musk on the skin for hours.
I’m a bit conflicted about the marketing. I went off a bit about philosophy’s “Nude Rose,” for using the same color scheme.
This song has all the color, cut and clarity.
She sits close, with powdery lemon cake for an hour or two.
A white cotton dress perfume, worn for afternoon tea and croquet, or sweet iced tea and horseshoes.
Pretty, but shy.
Colette Magny was a French blues singer and activist. I love this cover. It’s a little shy, too.
Weird fruit tart with sprinkles.
Shrill kiwi slices on top a white cupcake iced with white chocolate, decorated with some white flowers.
Lasts long after the party is over, ending with woody vanilla and birthday candle wax (that may be a feature of my solid scent rather than the spray) and musk.
Enormously popular, but the best of Britney’s lot is by far Midnight Fantasy.
This cover of Womanizer is pretty good–