Fragrance du jour, recent sniffs, random notes.
Crisp watermelon on top and even more delicious in the middle–buttery sweet soft floral–but on me, this quickly fades down to a muted version of Light Blue.
Nice, but needs more of the frangipani.
(Bit of trivia: The almond custard “frangipane” was named for the Marquis de Frangipani, whose family line went back to Roman times.)
And I just discovered that Halsey’s real name is Ashley Frangipane, which made me laugh.
Mint juleps–sugary booze and spearmint–with a solid wood note on the bottom.
Becomes a skin scent quickly, but lingers louder on clothes.
It’s got some of the XY gene of Eros and Bleu de Chanel, but with an organic softness that makes me nostalgic for the head shop that sold the best handmade candles and always played B.B. King albums.
The scent might be too simple to represent the complex history of the barrelhouses of the South that gave birth to the blues–but there’s an earthy sweetness to it that I’d enjoy on a guy with a good voice.
This opens with a premier class take on Victoria’s Secret Love Spell, then it melts into amber-y burnt sugar, all business with extra legroom.
Sweet and enjoyable, (and extremely long-lasting) but too young for me.
Moby remixed Slipping Away with Mylène Farmer, a French pop singer from Quebec in 2006. It’s equally sweet.
Lighthearted and young.
This girl wears bright sundresses and statement shoes and laughs at everything.
A joyful projection of watermelon taffy with a toasted coconut accord close to the skin.
There’s a champagne feel, too–a sparkle in the gourmand sweetness–that’s quite charming, like an innocent twist on Mugler’s Eau de Star.
This song always makes me happy. This fun cover is by Haddy N’Jie.
A splash of limeade and orange zest, a rub of basil and flower petals, a breath of cedar, and then it’s gone.
The brevity is a strength–4711 glories in its opening moment, the interaction of refreshment, the awakening.
Many of us grew up with this one in the medicine chest rather than the vanity, used to disinfect cuts and soothe burns. It’s still one of my favorite comfort scents.
Haydn’s Surprise Symphony (No. 94) came out in in 1792 too.
I love this one on everybody else–fruity fresh honeysuckle and minty citrus–but it sits all wrong on me.
Opens sweaty on what should be sweet blossom, the lemonade is bitter–almost pithy–and the roses dead. The pretty woodsy floral base is bleachy-screechy and sinus headache inducing–though I get compliments as I ask for aspirin.
If I can make it through the first two hours, the drydown is lovely.
Jewel’s biggest hit topped the charts the same year.
The same lemon and white musk, but all the sharp herbs and incense smoke make it oversexed.
The glory of the female version, and why it’s such a powerhouse, is the ace quality that strips away any overt gendered invitation.
So by omitting all the sweet notes, the masculine edition just becomes another passive aggressive drink garnish at the patio bar.
Kanye West put out Stronger the same year. It was both as synthetic and popular.
Opens with lemony ylang-ylang, then settles to aldehydic woods and tuberose with some animalic dank notes that keep it from being too sweet.
Strong sillage, and long lasting, but it does seem from another time, when perfume focused on gravitas and established style. Now the trends seem to aim for playfulness and creativity.
This might have more personality on a gentleman, today.
Ysatis came out in 1984, and I discovered short-haired girls.
Sharp green citrus that fades quickly to ginger and mushy orange flower. Doesn’t project well, but lasts on the skin three hours.
I get none of the advertised amber or bourbon, sadly.
It’s okay, but not very interesting.
I like the Arctic Monkeys. This song is a bit mushy, too.
(Paillettes are spangles, the dangling sequins on shimmering gowns.)
Fairy dust potion.
Seriously, this is what Tinkerbell sprays all over folks so they can fly.
My favorite L.L. bottle ever, filled with the most magical, silky, pink frosted liquid, scented with a light powdery version of the original.
This came out in 2001, but it’s worth nabbing second hand. The scent is lovely, of course–violets and aniseed and sheer musk–but the body shimmer feels and looks so amazing on the skin. (Especially dark skin! The only time I ever broke my no-perfume-in-costume rule was for the actress who introduced me to this beauty. She looked incredible under the stage-lights.)
I was the only kid who loved getting the little boxes of Good & Plenty licorice candy while trick-or-treating. Lolita Lempicka smells like they taste, so maybe that’s why I enjoy it so much.
This is a sparkly song.
kira a. gold 