Arielle smells like peaches in the hot sun, when the fruit stands are full and ripe and steamy and the day lilies are blooming in full force. Amber and sandalwood dry up the sweetness after an hour, making it almost civet-sour-soapy, that Atlanta highway air freshener and funky sweat that sticks to skin and clothes, until it slowly eases back to evening breeze and sweet peach tea.
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.
Soapy dry rose that settles into a metallic musk that grows and grows and takes over living rooms and puts its feet on the furniture.
The vanilla shows up briefly a half an hour in, but can’t compete with the ambroxan-patchouli that sits like a penny in the mouth and puts Black Sabbath tunes in the head all day.
An awesome and invasive modern take on an old rose.
Rob Zombie’s Dragula might be my favorite metal song, but today I’m feeling this Ella style take of the best revenge song ever:
I keep trying Euphoria, because it’s made with so many things I love–pomegranate, passionfruit, patchouli and violet, mahogany–but they’re all swallowed up by the amber and musk in a way that sours my throat.
I liked the candle in the store, but at home it haunted my house and made me edgy.
Sweet Euphoria is the one song on Chris Cornell’s solo album Euphoria Morning (Mourning) that I’ve never really enjoyed. Pillow of Your Bones is better: