Fragrance du jour, recent sniffs, random notes.
A bite of bergamot and green apples, then huge gardenias, the kind my grandmother used to grow, big waxy white flowers with shiny green leaves that took over her living room.
Florence grows that big–one roll on the wrist and it’s all through the house.
I like it better after an hour, when it settles down to light woodsy musk on the skin.
Florence, of course.
Orange pith and herbs, and quick.
Opens sharp and citrusy with woody ginger. Softens with some jasmine and a breath of amber, then vetiver lingers on the bottom for a few seconds.
Definitely a cologne–it’s gone in a hot second and for the cost, 4711’s Acqua Colonias might be a better deal.
Here’s some more oranges.
The shy little sister of Diorissimo.
Opens with an Earl Grey tea splash that gets lost in a huge green not-quite-blooming-yet flower garden–a bit of jasmine and blushing rosebuds–for an hour.
Big starchy oakmoss dries up the bottom a foot off the skin and stays there most of the day.
It’s nice, but doesn’t say much.
This oddball song was a huge hit in France in 1972, the same year Diorella came out.
A blast of sweet powder out of the bottle, with a bit of white flower–what I imagine vanilla orchids smell like.
Then marzipan–the strong stuff that reminds you of cherry stones and the secret hole-in-the-wall bakery with the amazing almond danishes.
It morphs back to powder an hour later, with huge sillage that lasts forever.
The Cookies backed up Little Eva and Ray Charles, but had several hits of their own, including this one.
Vanilla amber and marshmallow-y musk.
Maybe there’s some almonds in there, too.
It’s okay, but not anything that can’t be found at Victoria’s Secret or Bath and Body Works.
I’ve sort of fallen in love with Pomplamoose. They’re a husband and wife team who’ve made a name for their transparent (what you see is what you get–no post production mixing) cover works online. Here’s another less quiet Another Day.
Bright wet loud green floral, but clumsy.
Lily-of-the-valley after they’ve been beaten by rain storms, hothouse tropicals bruised by the automatic sprinkler–
But then it goes overboard, into silage territory: a florist’s trimmings bucket and watermelon rind compost and fermented cucumber pulp.
Doesn’t come out of clothing until washed in hot water.
If it were less heavy-handed I’d enjoy the weirdness of it, in an I Am Trash kind of way.
This Passiflora (a folk band out of Costa Rica) is not clumsy at all.
Pure Lily-of-the-Valley, first released in 1920.
The first notes are clean lemony florals, then the tune centers on delicate sweet white flowers with a creme fraiche texture.
Settles into gentle soap aldehydes at the end.
This might be a soliflore, but I get a tiny hit of orange blossom that curbs the usual green edge under the lily bells.
Lasts a pretty two hours close to the skin.
Another Lily-of-the-Vally.
Grandma’s bath salts (which also had a fern on the bottle, I think–)
Opens with harsh herbal lime and pine pitch, then softens down to nice wet crushed bracken and soap suds.
Stays close to the body all day, and leaves green smelling stains on the clothes.
I’d enjoy this on a guy–the alpha male who scrubs up clean.
Here’s more of the same color.
This one is a little bit genius.
First breath is sangria and smoke, a quick break between acts on the side door sidewalk of the theater, then sticky honey sweets to soothe the throat as the lights flicker–Places, please!–and meanders back to leather and walnut-wood seats and gaslight.
Stays close, and lasts on the skin with benzoin and incense for ages.
This is one of my favorite interludes-
Citrus and rosy jasmine, and a resinous fruit note that makes me think of dried apricots. Some patchy musk, too.
Magazine stickies aren’t the best judge by any means, but there’s nothing unique here that bumps it up my try-out-of-the-bottle list.
This redux is way more intense.
kira a. gold 