aldehydes

by

Knowing

knowingThis one should come with a warning: a little bit goes a loooong way.
Miles.
Leagues.

Frothy aldehydic opening, mimosa sweet–the whole blooming tree, not just one flower. Then the cat spray hits–make that three cats, two toms fighting over a queen–though the roses and patchouli do their best to drown them out.
After a few hours, moss creeps in and covers everything under the roses–everything–your skin, your house, your neighborhood–turning them into herbal topiary sculptures that cast weird spicy green rose-shaped shadows until the sun goes down.
Except they’re there the next day. And the next. You can’t outrun this stuff. It laughs at hot showers, goes swimming in the laundry, dances under the garden hose.

Please send help.

Knowing came out in 1988, along with Enya’s Orinoco Flow. A little of that goes a long way, too. Here’s the shortest cover I could find.

by

Ysatis

ysatis edge
Cut crystal Ysatis mini bottle with skyscraper lines and pyramid top, filled with dark amber liquid.

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.

by

White Linen

white linenClassy soap powder.

Aldehydes and lilac with some sweetness, settling into soft floral sandalwood that lasts all day long, just within personal space.

There’s a retro middle-class “cleanliness is next to godliness” vibe to it, laundered and starched and proper.

Sometimes I put a drop on the dryer sheet when I wash bedding.

Dog and Butterfly first came out in 1978, too.

by

Dragonfly

Sample spray and promo card showing pink lotus blossoms and bottle with label of a dragonfly wearing an embroidered caped greatcoat.

Edit – 9/29/21

The 2021 remake of Dragonfly is a little lighter, I think–the amber and heliotrope is replaced with benzoin and ginger, with the wet notes lasting longer on the bottom.
The mustiness of the rice still comes through, but it’s more powdery now–drying out just after a sun shower, rather than in the rain–and still cloying.
Not my favorite Zoologist.

*

dragonfly edgy
Decant vial on Zoologist ad. (The first edition had lavender eau.)

Green pond lilies and sugar dipped flowers steaming in summer rainstorms.

There’s an amber shard edge that keeps it from being cloying, but it’s still too sweet for me.

An acoustic track from a post-grunge group that definitely has an amber edge.

by

Tiger’s Nest

tigers nest edgy
Decant vial and test strip cut-out of Memo’s tricolor woodblock label with a broody tiger.

This is one of those fancy organic sodas from the health food store with the artsy label–that’s totally worth the ridiculous price.

Uncaps to smoky root beer, then settles into Sprite and an aldehydic seltzer. Lasts a good two hours a foot off the wrist and leaves a pleasant malty sweet amber on the skin the whole afternoon.

Perfect for a sushi lunch date.

I played second flute for an excruciating season of junior high band–The Eye of the Tiger was our big number. I like Katrine Ottosen’s cover. (Her Tiny Desk Concert is over here.)

by

Mistigri

MistigriThe fashion illustrator René Gruau’s 1953 advertisement for Jacques Griffe’s Mistigri is much more famous than the perfume ever was, but I’ve always been curious about the scent.

I finally managed to score a 70-year-old vintage mini, the little box (made to look like a deck of cards–the mistigri is the Jack of Clubs,  as well as the trickster cat–still intact. The bottle even had the string on the cap, though it fell apart as soon as I opened the stopper.
A dried up drop was left, a flake of amber brown in the corner of the bottle that smelled like every fusty antique store and estate sale.
Disappointing–
–until I rinsed it out, and the warm water brought a green chypre to life, resinous and floral. Some sharp pepper and flirty cloves were mixed in there too.
An hour later the room smells faintly of cedar and the soapy-sweetness of Chanel No. 5, in a trousseau chest with a secret kind-of-way.

So Mistigri was a nice scent, though nothing amazing. But the cat drawing on the box? I want a poster of that on my wall.

My favorite Catwoman, Eartha Kitt released C’est Si Bon in 1953.

by

Chanel No. 5

Mini Chanel bottle in the center of a fuchsia daisy.

Chanel No. 5 is the most famous fragrance of the world, and for good reason.
No other perfume manages to be such a combination of opposites–clean yet filthy, powdery but also syrupy, delicate and heavy, soothing yet provocative, mature but gamine–all at the same time.

The 80’s eau de parfum splashes on with soapy peaches, juicy but aldehydic, and starchy boned lingerie falling to the floor, in a release of structure giving way to voluptuousness.
The flowers in the middle blend to effervescent floral cordial, chased by a Southern Comfort base–smooth woody whisky sweetened by vanilla.

I love it, but I’m no Marilyn Monroe, and this one takes a hefty pair to pull off. (I was 16 when it came out, and Lady Stetson was a bit more my speed.)
Wear with a corset and no shame.

Edit – 7/9/21.

Perfume in time of COVID-19:
Out of curiosity, I sniffed my mini bottle yesterday, and it smelled like mustard.
Today it smells like nothing at all.

The guy asked, “What texture should we have for dinner tonight?” (Flavorless potato chips are very strange!)
I’m sure I’ll be okay–I’ve been double vaxxed–so hopefully this will pass soon.

*

This song also came out in 1986. Madonna was our Marilyn back then.