Miss Lucy Fur of the white coat and pink nose, posing on a beige lambskin throw and a black-capped mini splash bottle from Demeter Fragrance Library.
Our little girl smells faintly of flea drops and raw silk, but I get it.
Demeter Kitten Fur opens with new cat carrier plastics, and a metallic cage clang that is soon overtaken by musky vanilla lactones that should not be smelled up close–like back away from that with your tail puffed up–except that it’s sort of interesting in a weirdly cute way. Lasts at least two hours, and finishes with powdery Cashmere Mist on the skin.
Not for me, but I understand the appeal. I’d love to see a Zoologist version of this–some civet or black currant bud would give it claws.
A yellow long stemmed rose balanced on a signature Tauerville bottle–a cube with a navy and white graphic label–filled with dark amber extrait.
Rose Flash has a lot of ties with my beloved Slumberhouse Sådanne, another psychedelic fruity rose wine with woods at the bottom, but instead of the Scandinavian seashore, the Tauer version is set in a Persian garden.
Vibrant roses, heady and lush, edged with green. They take a lemon curd turn–piquant, a bit balsamic, sweetened with honey–projecting into living space for most of the day, while a bit of cinnamon spice sits close to the skin. Resinous wood gives structure, support for berry canes and ripening rose-hips, that lasts til next morning.
There’s something wild and carnal about it–like the roses in Eden lost their innocence along with Adam and Eve–that is addictive. Luckily, Tauerville is one of the most affordable niche lines out there–about a third of the price of Slumberhouse.
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Ananda Shankar was an Indian sound artist who fused traditional music from all over the world with jazz, funk, and synth.
Etat Libre d’Orange sample spray and white box with gold medallion, and hourglass with pink sand.
I only get about 500 minutes, not years, but they’re pleasantly spicy, and dry.
Earl Gray tea roses with cardamom à la Amouage that start loud and boisterous, then settle into cocoa powder with a peppery edge. Oud-ish sawdust on the bottom gives some structure, and there’s a bit of nice leather boot swagger, too.
Leans to the earthy ground saffron edge of unisex. Pricey, but the projection is good for those eight and a third hours.
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This take on the Proclaimers’ hit turns it into a brooding duet, with no less urgency.
Yellow daylily and mini gold ball capped Shangai Tang bottle with with ivory symbol for longevity.
Sheer lily, sweet floral with an undercurrent of earthy spice, held in place with light patchouli and some pale musk. At a distance the flowers are lovely, but an up-close sniff turns it into car air freshener for a while. I like the coriander and clove drydown on the skin, after the synthetics fade.
The company has moved their fragrance production toward room scents and candles–I think that’s a good direction for them.
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I went down the Google-hole looking for current pop music in Shanghai right now, and fell hard for the modern-hits-traditional vibe of this one. (Google translates the title as “I walked through the lonely long river in Mobei and the sun sets,” but Encore lists it as Xiao – “Rivers and Lakes.”)
Replica sample spray and promo card featuring the bare back of a blonde at the seashore.
Another citrus-coconut-floral for barefoot surf dodging–
A soft bergamot opening, with that squeeze of lemon juice to lighten the hair in the sun, then coconut creme sun lotion and sweet tropical flowers carried at arms length, ending in a sheer driftwood musk that melts to the skin after a few hours.
Grubby garden glove holding fallen tomato leaf, spotty rose, bruised apricot, and small bottle with St. Clair logo.
“Gardener’s Glove was a finalist in the 2019 Art and Olfaction Awards within the artisan/independent category,” according to the St. Clair Scents website, and yep, this stuff is magical.
The tomato leaf opens loud, the way I like it, jolly green with a nice hit of citrus peel– And then leather eases in, holding crushed herbs, bruised fruit and flower prunings, a pretty chaotic mess that gets super sweet with black currants and jasmine for several nice hours within personal space. There’s a dust-up of saffron and vetiver as it settles, then some pleasant animalics and benzoin linger with apricots for the evening, subtle on skin and all night on the cuffs.
Somehow this all adds up to a fairy-tale–a Folavril pixie wearing Land of Warriors armor–but not about royalty, this eau is about the groundskeeper who trained the thorny rose forest, pruned the poisoned apple trees, cultivated the giant beanstalk seeds.
Niche quality, with prices to match, but absolutely worth saving up for–I feel like I could grow moth orchids that flew and ferns that actually fiddled, while wearing it.
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Robert Smith (of The Cure) and Steven Severin (of Siouxsie and the Banshees) got together in The Glove to do a new wave album called Blue Sunshine. This instrumental tune also starts chaotic, then gets super sweet.
TokyoMilk barrel canister and bottle with botanical drawings of chrysanthemum, echinacea and clary.
From the newest set, TokyoMilk 80 touts Sweet Grass, Clary Sage, Verdant Florals, Citron on the label, and the clary–a lavender-limey herbal–is nicely prominent, I’m happy to say.
Opens bright, cologne-ish–green lemonade on lawn chairs in the hot sun–that settles to the skin within an hour. Turns a little sweaty in a pleasant bitter citrus pithy way for another hour or two. Fresh, soft, and unisex. I’d enjoy it as bath salts, too.
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Garbage covers U2 with a dreamy urgency that’s just lovely–(the whole album is great.)
Mini black capped Nest bottles, Wild Poppy in front with red flower illustrated label.
Whew. The rollerball application might not be the way to sample this one.
One stripe on the wrist and I get Enormous Fruits, in a Carmen Miranda hat so huge it makes my eyes cross. Scrubbing twice knocks it back to a heavy raspberry rose headache, three feet off the skin, that no amount of dish detergent or aspirin can conquer. I tried Goo-Gone, and Ajax. It’s been two days. I’m contemplating one of those foot peel masks. And acupuncture. Maybe an orbital sander?
Miniature iconic black Joy bottle with red domed cap and gold writing, sitting in the petals of a red-tipped cream rose.
Joy opens bright, rose and tuberose made extra sweet and loud with ylang-ylang. Jasmine soon blooms, indolic and spring green with rosebuds that slowly ripen then turn almost spicy and dry down to sandalwood. Musk with a hint of cat purrs at the bottom, keeping it from being too pristine.
There’s really no way to explain how perfectly blended the bouquet of flowers is, yet every single element is so distinct–the way a Matisse painting comes together perfectly, the way a string quartet becomes more than the sum of the strings–gestalt theory produced in perfume.
I still have the bottle I bought in Paris when I was sixteen, but I never wear it–I feel like I’m putting on airs (farting above my ass–to use a French idiom) or playing dress up in clothes I’m not woman enough to pull off.
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Joy came out in 1930. The next year Josephine Baker released the record that made the world pay attention to more than her banana skirt.
Vintage bottle of rose glass with pressed flower design, ribbed gold shaft cap with pink faux jewel on the tip.
Found this one in a vintage grab bag, with enough drops in the bottom to reminisce about the dorm-mate in college who stole my microwave popcorn, chewed tobacco and had really good taste in drugstore perfume.
Xia Xiang was an iconic late eighties Revlon, a sweet woodsy floral* with cringey marketing that embraced full-on exoticism of Chinese culture. Good perfume, though–a pretty lemonade splash on a mixed bouquet of everything, with a long lasting spiced peaches and sandalwood base.
Go with ChloeNomad for a modern take with a similar profile, or try Fragonard Belle de Nuit, with the same rose and ylang-ylang, and plum notes on the bottom.
*(Let’s get rid of the tone-deaf perfume label “oriental” while we’re at it, yeah? It’s offensive and we don’t need it. We say more with words that describe the scent, than we do using an outdated geographical term that stinks of colonialism.)
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T’Pau’s big hit, China in Your Hand, came out in 1987, but the debut release from the same album is a much better song.
kira a. gold 