A fast bubbly splash of Coca-Cola, cheeky spice and snappy sweet citrus, and then it’s gone.
Too much caffeine for a children’s party, too juvenile for cocktails. This is the quick kiss at a high school locker between classes–fresh laughter and a pop of effervescence–then nothing but a memory.
Liking this one right now–check out how much the drummer gets out of just that tambourine.
My cat just peed on the carpet.
No, that’s not what Civet smells like–it’s actually quite lovely. Leather and citrus and peppery carnations, smoke and it’s so lush.
But when I dabbed it on my wrist my cat freaked out, frantically pawed at my sleeve and then took a stress squirt on the rug.
Never have I felt so sexy doing laundry.
ETA:
Carpet is clean, cat is sleeping, perfume calmed down to sweet black coffee on the skin.
This Rolling Stones cover was the B-side of Jesus Christ Pose. (Best played loud.)
Fully loaded Bazooka Joe.
This stuff is like the sexy battle armor you put on before conquering your own world.
Tank Battle opens with a wet bubblegum pop, and a moment later a bright sulfur flare. Smoky haze sits at arms length–a burnt spice offering, a swallow of bourbon, metal shavings from a sharpened blade.
Sun-scorched patchouli and cloves settle to the skin after an hour, with an occasional whiff of daring and sweetness the whole day long.
The Seatbelts’ Tank! (the opener for Cowboy Bebop) is a lot of fun.
All I get from this is dried peaches in a plastic bag. Maybe a whiff of the incense aisle at the other end of the food co-op.
And it lasts as long as the 10-items-or-less line.
I’ve seen Encens et Bubblegum compared to Gorilla Perfume’s Tank Battle (from LUSH).
Nope.
This stuff is a stale sugarless dime ball from a reproduction piggy-bank next to Tank Battle’s fresh packet of Big League Chew. This is clove cigarette ash likened to Satya Sai Baba Nag Champa.
Twice the price, half the sillage and none of the longevity.
Doesn’t compare at all.
Edit – 7/3/23
(Wow. I was a bit angry about it!)
Here’s some more French bubblegum from 2006.
Beekeepers smell like this–honey and smoke and sweet resin. Flowers and wood and hard sweaty work underneath.
Bees make a sticky glue from pine sap called propolis to secure the honeycomb. It’s been used for centuries to varnish violins and in traditional medicine to soothe irritated throats.
Smoke gets the buzzy girls high, so they don’t mind the beeman in their home. He’ll say hullo to the queen and admire the brood before leaving.
Summer afternoons, when it’s too hot for even the roses, the propolis gets soft and the honey makes a mirage of heat over the hives–this is Pour le Soir.
He actually makes the guitar bumble.
A stray cat in heat reeking of orange and cloves.
Tabu was that night you wore thigh-high stockings but forgot your fake ID, so someone’s older sister gave you rootbeer schnapps and after the party you watched the sunrise drinking Constant Comment tea with the guy your friend wanted.
I wore this once in high school and the boy who never noticed me asked my name, and the skirt I’d worn all year got measured with a ruler twice. My mother took the bottle away and told me I could have it back when I went to college.
*
Tabu came out in 1933, designed to be “the fragrance of a whore.” Jazz was taking Paris by storm then, led by Django Reinhard at the Hot Club.
Here’s Gretchen Menn’s take on Minor Swing.
Vanillary smells like that $70 candle you scored for $6 at TJMaxx–a little chipped at the edges but still classy and delicious AF.
It’s a big cloud of ice cream cupcake, though a bit dirty, as if it had been picked up from the floor within the 5 second rule.
This song also came out in 2009. Smooth and sweet with some dirty bass–one of my all time favorites.
kira a. gold 