The solid goes on with cool waxy watermelon and warms up to a creamy tuberose with a bite of peach.
Lasts for an hour with faint but big sillage, then dissolves into caramel on the skin.
It’s much nicer than I expected–delicate and lighthearted and fun–so nice to find a teen perfume done really well.
A princess on a shopping mall spree.
Candied strawberries and caramel apples, framed by galleria escalator glass and chrome.
Trendy and young, but with impeccable taste–the patchouli gives a tartness to the berries, a metallic edge that takes it out of Flowerbomb territory and puts it more in league with House of Sillage Chevaux d’Or.
Elbow length projection for three hours or so.
Wet cantaloupe, with a spritz of lemon and a dash of salt to cut the sweetness.
This guy has Soundgarden on most of his playlists, drinks good tequila and likes standup comedy. He’s fun to hang around with.
A hard liquor splash of orange flower water spiked with amaretto, made clever with oriental spice, then a dump of vanilla sugar heavy enough to hurt the head.
This smells like that sassy chef at the corner bakery who drinks on the job and sets aside cupcakes for the cops who give her a ride home.
(This is what happens when you watch that Baking Show while testing House of Sillage.)
A great one for sweet tooth cravings.
TokyoMilk #10 is a spilled pot of syrupy tea with cream, smoky jasmine and sugared violets.
Sandalwood at the bottom gives the honey a nice bit of bee-sting.
Pretty and warm, with good sillage and amazing longevity.
It’s blue! And weird and wet and marvelous.
Marine water and smoke out of the vial that darkens down to black fountain pen ink, dirtying up sea foam.
Algae blooms, delicate green, strangely organic and chemical at the same time, with big juicy sillage.
The ambergris rises to the surface an hour later, making it even wetter with ocean spray; benzoin sweetens it, turning it fresh again.
Six hours later and it’s still there, chaotic, never seeming to settle down to one depth; yet it’s oddly comforting and beautiful.
Starts out sugar sweet, the dust on marshmallows, then turns jasmine-like, with a touch of honey.
Finishes fruity-juicy, more gourmand than neroli’s greener woody-spice edge.
It’s the floral note easily found in the opening of Coco Mademoiselle, and tastes delicious in Italian Cream Cakes.
This one was bottled for a mini collection for tourists from the Borsari 1970 Museum in Parma, in the seventies–the caps are hideous plastic, but they’re effective–it’s quite well preserved for being so old.