Fragrance du jour, recent sniffs, random notes.
Boozy pineapple fruit dipped in herbal honey, garnished with minty patchouli–but then some dank tobacco weirdly dirties up the sweetness.
It’s an odd mix, like Jimmy Choo Man put on silk argyle socks and Birkenstocks.
Maduro is an ode to a famous box of Cuban cigars from 1961. Despite Fidel Castro’s ban on rock music the same year, Los Zafiros were quite successful.
Sophisticated and warm–leans to the yang rather than the yin–it’s got outward force, this stuff.
Sweet spice at the opening, with a hint of rose, that settles into resinous green incense, heavy on the vetiver. Soft patchouli projection for half the day, with honey cardamom on the skin.
Has really nice organic alpha notes, with none of the usual chemical musks–for days when you need a little more power in the flesh.
This mini is the eighties edition of the seventies formula, which was a remake of Caron’s 1913 original. (The 2018 version is a complete revamp into a pear and vanilla gourmand.)
A big gust of retro aldehydes out of the bottle, carrying a mess of flowers–jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, rose and tuberose–that settle down fairly quickly a few inches above the skin, anchored by sandalwood and amber.
It’s pleasant, and nice to find a vintage scent of that era that isn’t a tangle of oakmoss and civet, but not one to keep for nostalgia or reference.
In 1970, the top female pop song in France was Venus, by the Dutch band Shocking Blue–it was also re-released in the eighties by Bananarama.
(There was actually a “Venus Waltz” by the American Standard Orchestra recorded in 1913, on cylinder.)
A pretty cuppa tea.
Opens with Ceylon rose and lemon, then slowly cools to musky peach Oolong.
It’s simple but long lasting with impeccable sillage–personal space and the faintest trail of petals. The base notes–woody stems tinged red with the roses–linger for days on clothes.
And the bottle is adorable.
Another gem that came out in 2019.
Citron d’Erable is exactly what Atelier Cologne says it is: lemon maple, with a sequoia base.
Opens with the brand’s signature burst of citrus: fresh sharp zest, with sweet custard underneath. Slowly settles to lemonade sweetened with maple syrup, which seems like a weird description, but it works in a lovely Vermont hippy way. Lasts a good half hour before fading into dry rich woods.
It’s very non-flirtatious and personal–wear in autumn on “me days.”
Macy Gray makes self indulgence necessary, rather than vanity.
This smells like the hand sanitizer in an outdoor wedding port-a-potty. It’s been monogrammed with the bride and groom’s initials and sports a real rosebud with a ribbon bow–but still leaves one desperate to wash the hands properly.
Pink florals on top, white musk and miniature bubble wands on the bottom.
A song with some carats.
TokyoMilk #11
I get dolls heads, when they break down and become sticky, flowery vanilla and non-dairy creamer.
There’s a naughty age-inappropriate edge to it–the nursery nanny in the push-up bra–but it doesn’t do more than flirt for a while.
Fun.
Ginger and peppercorns that sweeten to ground spices, powdered cardamom and nutmeg, drier than dry toast, to the point that it makes me thirsty–almost itchy.
Half an hour in, the almonds warm up, and it gets creamier. A bit of floral musk makes it more palatable, and then the dry down is lovely, sandalwood with a hint of sweetness.
Stays politely in personal space for most of the day. Pair with a two liter drinking bottle.
Vintage Calycanthus.
Opens sharp and sweet, like peaches, then settles into soft green forest floor leaves with a cinnamon/curry melange–calycanthus is also called “spice-bush” and “sweet-shrub” in the US–and ends with ferns with cardamom spoor.
Interesting and unusual.
Released in 1970 as part of Bosari’s Library of Fragrance, but I don’t know if it was sold apart from the reference set.
It’s a spicy scent–reminds me of the curry-plants the herb guy at the farmer’s market sells.
*
I’ve always liked this one.
This makes me feel like I’ve walked out of the most expensive shoe store in Paris.
A quick opening of aldehydes and spicy fruit, as if to anchor the time period–and a few of the usual flowers to say I am French!—then the leather kicks in with patent pointy toe boots and kid gloves, leaving prints behind for days.
It’s down to earth–this footwear has solid heels–with oakmoss and pungent geranium and a pinch of tobacco.
I’d wear it if it had a touch more sweetness.
This tune came out in 1959, too.
kira a. gold 