Rectangular bottle with gold cap and double sided label printed with songbirds.
TokyoMilk #57 lists Hyacinth, Iris, Citrus Zest and Crisp Greens on the bottle, and there’s no false advertising there, aside from the “blue.”
This is a green scent, and cheerful.
A splash of green leaves, almost bamboo sweet, with a tiny hit of bergamot rind, and hyacinth–which comes across rather lilac–and a faint smear of petroleum jelly. Lasts an hour with six-foot sillage, then fades to the skin with a light summery-lawn musk.
Good for socially distant outdoor concerts.
*
A pretty summer song. Not the best recording, but I like it.
Fuchsia capped rollerball bottle on mound of turbinado sugar. The eau de toilette is quite viscous, as syrupy as honey.
One of everything in a pay-by-the-pound candy store stuffed into a bottle.
Aquolina’s best seller is one of the most accessible gourmand fragrances out there. Cheap and available, and marketed with childish sweet-shoppe vibes, Pink Sugar is the Candy Crush Saga of perfumes.
And I’ve finally recovered from my daughter’s teenage obsession with Bath & Body Works’ Warm Vanilla Sugar, (the only way to exorcise that stuff from the house is to paint the walls–seriously, there isn’t enough sage in the world) to sniff this without instinctively reaching for aspirin.
Opens with screaming marshmallows and raspberry gum-drops and orange Pixy-Stix, loud as elementary school recess. The rush soon melts into huge clouds of cotton candy nicely dirtied up with a little licorice. A bit more grown up, a little flirty, red heart-shaped lolly-pops get passed like notes in the cafeteria. At the bottom is caramel, with just enough musk to keep it from being completely cloying, chewy vanilla that lasts all day and sticks to clothes like toffee.
And yes, the stuff is mind-numbingly sweet, but it’s also fun, and I can see why so many bottles peek out of the purses of grown women, too.
*
I saw her in concert when I was 14. She was amazing.
4711 flask with carmine label and box with illustration of a lychee plant.
I’m not usually one for mint in fragrances, and most of the Acqua Colonias I’ve tried have been exactly what they advertise, so I’ve avoided this one for a while. But I like lychees, and I was curious what 4711 might actually do with “white mint,” and since it would fade in 15 minutes anyway, and it didn’t cost much–so why not?
Ugh. Opens with a big swish of eye-watering mouthwash that sits fuming on top of the body like camphor rub. And stays there–making the nose-hairs curl in despair as the pale floral lychee breezes on with a fleeting wave–for half an agonizing hour. Eventually dissolves to spearmint gum–that’s had all the sweetness chewed out–on the skin.
Too much mentholated hospital disinfectant vibes to even use as a room spray.
Try it, if you might enjoy wearing Listerine antiseptic wash. I don’t.
*
A very cool song (and hysterical video) by Mint Royal–
Zoologist bottle cutout paper tester, green cardamom pods, decant vial and enamel deer brooch.
Rude at first, then lovely.
Opens with loud fecal spice, like something large and furry shat cardamom pods in your personal space. Just as your eyes start to water in protest, the cedar tamps down the fumes with some nice florals, and then the softest powdery musk takes over. The orris root makes this brilliant–not like Lolita Lempicka’s pulverized violet candy–more fae monarchy walking in the forest, raising sugary pollen that glitters in the sun.
The base woods stay sweet on the on the skin for half the day, with the musk trailing a foot above.
Unisex. Leans delicate, after the feral beginning.
Mini Penhaligon’s bottle with gold tassel, and sprigs of variegated lemon thyme.
Quercus means oak, but I get lemon thyme.
Opens with a bright herbal splash of citrus, that lasts through a burst of green florals. Settles to the skin in twenty minutes with some moss musk for another hour.
Nice gardening vibes, but a bit pretty. This guy grows orchid varietals, rather than getting his hands in the dirt.
Tocca mini cruets and sample spray with pink and gold card.
Uninspired pink lemonade and pale florals (that try really hard to be roses and lily of the valley) at first, but soon turns into a nice citrus musk with a cool metallic edge–a bit like Nestea iced tea in a can.
Young and safe–a good first date scent. Stays in personal space for an hour, then drifts down to the skin over the next two. Gone by curfew.
*
This update of Anita Ward’s disco hit is NOT appropriate for a first date.
Coreterno sample card and spray, with some artsy marketing swag featuring Baroque boys in tights.
One to wear with ratty Converse All Stars, sucking down an Orange Julius–while you’re shopping at Tiffany’s. Like there’s a comfortable I-don’t-give-two-shits vibe, but it’s really high end.
Marshmallow citrus at the start, a bit of rose meringue in the middle, creamy vanilla and salty musk at the base. Rather than being sticky, the sugar is airy and light, yet also very rich.
Stays inside the clothes for half the day, and leaves a faint sweet funk on the cuffs ’til evening. If I could actually afford to shop at Tiffany’s, I’d bathe in the stuff.
Glass pot of solid perfume with a gold lid (I dropped and cracked the pretty crested lid, sadly) and box illustrated with 1920’s drawing of swimming gentlemen.
TokyoMilk #54
Margot Elena lists notes of mineral salts, fresh water, turned earth, and white woods–which adds up somehow to sweet seaweed.
Opens with an aquatic fruity green note that stays wet for an hour before sinking into the skin with a faint wave of salty driftwood. The solid is sheer, without much projection, but this is one I wouldn’t want to douse myself with–I think it could easily turn brackish and swampy.
Simple, amiable and unisex. Good for reminiscing about seaside vacations, but collectors’ prices seem high for those memories.
Mini Illicit Flower–a cut glass barrel bottle with a modern ice castle vibe–and mandarin oranges.
I’d call this one Illicit Citrus, but it’s actually quite safe and polite.
Starts with orange juice and orange blossomy rose that stays inside personal space for an hour, then eases to sheer jasmine musk with some sweet woods until noon.
Pleasant, but very little allure. A good one for a gift exchange–the bottle is lovely.
*
This song is so pretty and strange–and weirdly apropos. We enjoy sweet scents meant to inspire hunger, yet so much of fashion is biased to the dangerously thin.
Large 4711 flask–the glass is the palest amber–in a puddle of sunlight and water, with a seashell.
This is quite nice.
Opens with subtle wet fruit (the ad copy says watermelon and star anise, and I get it, after knowing what to look for) and sweet frangipani. Coconut ebbs in with vanilla in a sheer musky suntan lotion that lasts an extraordinary long time for 4711–the “Acqua Colonia Intense” wears like good eau de toilette–three hours with arm’s length sillage. I don’t get much of the woods on the dry-down, maybe a hint on my cotton cuffs, but there’s an unexpected smudge of caramel on the skin that I like.
Definitely unisex, but on masculine types this would come across as very luxe, a Tom Ford-ish Soleil for a tenth of the price.
kira a. gold 