Fragrance du jour, recent sniffs, random notes.
Shirley Temple cough drops–medicinal grenadine, sweet and mentholated–that fade by the time the lozenge melts.
The combination shouldn’t work. Camphor and red fruit should be dissonant, but here they ring bright and clarifying and joyful.
I love it–not to wear, it’s too ridiculously cheerful–but my entire house, my linens and my gifts will all smell like this next holiday season.
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John Wick and Wednesday both sample Vivaldi’s Four seasons.
It’s still winter here.
A dentist’s office–kid’s fruity toothpaste, floral hand sanitizer, fish tank salt, vague panic and rubber soled shoes.
Gets a bit into the face and lasts as long as that smooth feeling on the incisors after a polishing.
This is the second time I’ve thought, “Maybe I won’t bother trying the new Nest when it comes out.”
I think I’ll go floss my molars now.
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My dentist pipes in “Hits of the Seventies.”
Y’know the skanky convenience store two blocks down, that has as much lampwork glass paraphernalia as munchie snacks on the shelves, and sells the best cheap vanilla incense anywhere?
The guy at the counter is fat and comfy with some nice swagger, and if you’re a regular he’ll give you a zip-lock bag of the green with your $50 roll of Butter-Rum LifeSavers.
Stunned is stunning.
Funky, verdant, sweet, resinous, and joyful.
Goes on with a draw of labdanum smoke, then exhales long–with sticky cannabis cupcake frosting and relaxing cloves–in personal space for most of the evening. You wake in the morning with a smudge of sugary patchouli on the skin, and only a vague idea of what actually happened the night before.
I love that Bel Rebel didn’t go the haute couture route that Florabotanica did–here they embrace messy weed culture full on, with head-shop cliches, creosote smeared bongs and gooey candy excess.
Medical card not required.
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Sweet oranges out of the bottle, with a bundle of lavender that hovers inside personal space for fifteen minutes.
Then, almost suddenly, the coffee hits, like it was spilled onto the skin, and it’s marvelous–supported by gruff spices and leather, almost grumpy, in a normally-nice boss arriving to work late way.
(How can a scent seem both surly and comforting at the same time?)
Lasts an hour or two, a little longer on cuffs.
The guy usually fusses when I wear men’s cologne, but this one he likes.
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A new one by a master. Both surly and comforting and so, so, good.
Not that mystical, sadly.
All the other Coreterno scents have been fun–a little offbeat, tongue-in-cheek pastiche–but this one starts on a big loud gob of burnt sugar and amber with no surprises, and there’s no magic at the end.
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Everything about this song is awesome.
Today’s sky is a gray rainy crying mess–perfect for growly blues with some funk.
An after-the-gym scent with rolled up French cuff manners and an odd but soothing undercurrent of stomach antacid tablets.
Opens with sweet limes and and warm spice, then settles to a hand span off the body with a nice mess of gentian–herbal, bitter, sweet–almost medicinal and a little mysterious–bolstered by a faint green brush of patchouli and vetiver.
Very sniffy on the skin for a comforting 4-5 hours.
Wear on Taco Tuesday.
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A soothing Tuesday song.
A headier, smoother version of the original Sì. The vanilla has been culled and the alcoholic woods replaced with benzoin, making the rose and currant syrupy and delicious–almost chocolaty–with a resinous base.
If the first version is meant to be worn on rosebud and champagne day dates, Intense is meant for falling petals and cream sherry evenings at home.
Lasts all night long, and forever on silk scarves.
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A sultry silk scarf song.
(Happy Valentine’s Day to all those who participate. Love is cool, yeah?)
I absolutely bought this vintage beauty for the box, but the extrait inside is a walk through Borsari 1870’s magnificent flower garden.
Starts with jasmine, then moves to rose, next to lily-of-the-valley, then freesia, then violets, then narcissus, then, then, then–but each is separate and distinct, like a line of different soliflores–until we finally rest on a sandalwood bench.
All the flowers are are lovely–that’s Borsari’s thing, precise distinguishable florals–but what makes this so interesting is the timing of them all. Each bloom moves on to the next with no blurred edges, garden plots kept neatly bordered on a path.
The progression is kind of a technical masterpiece–I can’t imagine the expertise that must have taken to orchestrate.
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A heart song. Sort of.
Angel Iced Star is the best Piña Colada ever:
Blend until smooth-
4 parts pineapple juice
2 parts ice
1 part Coco Lopez cream of coconut
2 parts Malibu Coconut Rum
Top with vanilla flavored whipped cream and a dash of nutmeg.
I could drink these all day long–but I wouldn’t want to smell like I bathed in them.
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I remember ’70’s summers and all the parents on the block getting stoned and making the kids virgin coladas, and telling us to go out and play and not come home until dusk–
This is an amazing gem of a scent!
Lanvin Me seems to have simple ingredients, but the blueberries juxtaposed with licorice is almost dissonant, and the sandalwood–which makes an evocative smudge of smoke–is surprisingly alluring. The bit of tuberose sweetening and roses keep it pretty, but they’re unanchored and a little wistful–
And somehow, it absolutely works.
There’s an unexpected cleverness that elevates it out of fashion/pop-star fruity-floral territory and makes it unique–a multifaceted aspect that includes all four seasons: spring blooms, summer berries, autumn campfires, winter spice.
Lasts a nice six hours in personal space, and another six on clothing, and can easily be worn any day of the year.
Affordable and accessible online–definitely one I’ll recommend.
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kira a. gold 