Fragrance du jour, recent sniffs, random notes.
Ugh. No.
I hurked in my mouth.
My cat ran from the room with his ears back.
An explosion of rotting bananas and decomposing rubber bath toys that settles to moldy marzipan after five wretched hours. (I was so astonished at how vile it was, I had to see how it played out, the way one sits through a bad movie.)
The guy came home and said, “Huh. Not bad,” and now I’m questioning all my relationship assumptions.
*
Sorry, Ernie, Little Richard did it best.
Sugary orange gummy candy on top, cheeky and loud, that projects for 2 hours at arms length before slowly drifting down to floral oak-y tea leaves, left to stew in the bottom of the pot. The finish is quite nice, smoky and mysterious, and long lasting on fabric.
Also, this one matures well in the bottle.
I’ve an older rollerball as well–five years at least, the juice has turned dark and thick–that opens with a whiff of boozy plum wine before hitting the Brach’s Orange Slices, and has a slightly richer dry-down. I like both equally.
*
Love this sweet and mysterious song from one of my favorite duos.
The first spray is a sanitizing citrus that fades to weird artificial fantasy flowers–they feel a bit Tim Burton-ish, like they might eat your brains with slurping noises.
The dry drown is very cool, a woodsy musk that does a chilly freshwater slow dive that lasts for hours and hours.
Masculine, in a modern knight errant on a trippy quest way, but a Lady-of-the-Lake could pull it off, too.
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Tim Burton directed this cute video for the Killers.
This smells like a flirtation at the race track on a sunny day–with a tumbler full of Gin & Juice on the side.
Delightfully bitter citrus, and ebony black oily resins–new tires and gear oil and leather and asphalt, all inky surfaces that get a touch of sweetness as they heat up–that stay close to the skin for the afternoon.
It’s weird but fun, and I really like the dichotomy of it.
Minerals gone organic and wild and dark, but bright and warm at the same time, and strangely inviting.
Leans masculine, but I’d wear it on high heel boot days–definitely on the Want-a-Full-Bottle list, and now I’m curious about the rest of the line.
*
One part Beefeater’s gin, three parts Ruby Red grapefruit juice. Pour over good ice and garnish with lime.
Opens with burnt peaches, vague flowers and a haunting hangover with sour lemon breath.
The vanilla alka-seltzer in the middle helps, but the headache doesn’t go away until the dry down–a woody musk that sticks to the clothes like party confetti and bad aftershave–fades too.
Recommended to bottle collectors. (Leave it closed.)
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This ghostly song is sweeter and much less ghoulish.
The scent we tend to think of as Orchid is usually a synthetic fantasy accord inspired by the Cattleya varieties, a delicate sweet vanilla floral, with hints of spice. (My sister-in-law grows very pretty varieties, but I get no smell from them at all.)
Borsari 1870’s interpretation from their library set opens green with wet white lily flowers on top, and sweet cardamom notes in the middle that slowly fade to a nice, effervescent cream soda on the skin.
I compared it with Tom Ford’s Orchids–Black, and Velvet (like Orchidea, they have a touch of sandalwood on the bottom) and Soleil–but other than a sense of fancy florals, this one doesn’t seem to match up with those three anywhere.
So perhaps an orchid’s beauty is in the nose of the designer?
This one doesn’t do much for me, but TF’s don’t either, much.
(Also, I have no idea what the art on that label is supposed to be. An abstract veiled face? A contorting cow?)
*
I’m really enjoying lullaby rock lately.
Described as a “floriental expressing the fulfillment of being together on a Roman terrace.”
Does partying out on an Italian balcony smell like apricot hard candy?
I like it.
Delicious fruity sour-balls out of the wrapper, clear and sweet, with a hint of summery yellow florals on top; a creamy center and a bit of spice that lasts an hour; and a sugary woodsy resin finish on the skin.
The benzoin at the base is absolutely luscious but I wish it lasted longer.
*
A groovy laid back cover.
This gourmand splash is quite boozy out of the bottle, sugary molasses and slightly floral with big bourbon notes.
Dries immediately down to the skin with middle notes of digestive biscuits and caramel.
The base, a faintly woodsy sweet musk, lasts through the evening, with melting ice cream vibes.
Unisex.
Recommended for blue Muppet monsters with cookie addictions, and Swedish Chefs.
*
A garden party of an earlier era–
Fruity hyacinth wine and Victorian button boots, damp spring earth and sheer amber musk.
Roses and jasmine and vanilla add a splash of sweetness. The flowers fade to the skin in a few hours, but leave green stains on the clothes for days.
Pretty, but Grand Amour needs to be a bit more exciting, for me to have Big Love at that price.
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This song is all Lindsey Buckingham, but Stevie Nicks does play her skirt really well.
I remember first hearing about this–I hoped for a noir version of YSL’s original Opium, à la Lolita Lempicka Midnight, taking the heady spicy notes even deeper, more mysterious–but they took it to a confectionery, instead.
The opening breath is fresh sliced pears, but then it goes syrup sweet, the garnish on a marzipan tart–but soon honey florals hit the back of the throat, until it dries down to patchi woods with a pleasant grit of coffee-pot grounds, as if to wash down all the sugar.
So many people get a different dessert note, with it’s own particular vibe. I’ve seen descriptions of a relaxing cafe latte, a black pepper licorice twist, narcotic vanilla, sticky candied fruits–
I get the whole damned sweet shoppe, and while I love a good gourmand, this one just left me with sour caffeine breath and a desperate need to go brush my teeth.
*
Miley covered the Arctic Monkeys in 2014, the same year Black Opium came out.
kira a. gold 