This smells like your car after you’ve had it detailed because the neighbor kid puked Olive Garden all over the back seat.
Lavender and orange oil solvent.
Windex and mint. A little lime and some hopeful sandalwood.
But it just can’t disguise the vomit.
(This is how to cover a song.) (Contains no barfing.)
A wincing blast of Ruby Red pink grapefruit out of the bottle that dries down to really lovely peaches sweetened with frangipani.
The musk on the bottom has some heat, a peppery note with the sandalwood, but with hard edges.
It’s got nice facets, but kind of jumbled–and the middle notes that I love last less than 20 minutes on me.
From Under the Pink.
A 4711 Acqua Colonia mini that didn’t come with the sampler set, but I had to have anyway because give-me-all-the-matching-things.
Nice fresh squirt-in-your-eye grapefruit and peppery bite that slowly fades to brisk rose on the skin. I like the masculine zing–this one has a bit of a bristly mustache.
I’ve always loved this weirdo group, though I did squirm a bit when my mum asked me the name of the band playing on my “pick-me-up playlist.”
Green bank lollipops, grubby herbs and pale wet patchouli.
A twinkly high school boy could pull this one off well, but not me.
Nick Cave is so marvelously angsty.
Spell is my favorite from The Lyre of Orpheus, the mellower “side B” of this double album.
A good bossy stewardess perfume.
Matter-of-fact grapefruit and grinning roses and brisk musk, but not inviting or invasive.
Starched silk suits on top, sir-take-your-seat-please on the bottom.
Dunja’s strumming technique makes me blush–
The last mini from the 4711 Acqua Colonia sample set.
Lime and dark spice, with a frothy hit of Ivory soap, but there’s a Coca-Cola vibe to it, too.
Green citrus projects a yard off the skin for five minutes, then the nutmeg slowly settles to the skin and disappears, over the course of an hour.
I dumped the whole bottle in the tub and it was marvelous.
Harry Nilsson was a such a brilliant (and strange) musician. His parents were Swedish circus performers, which makes me happy.
Safe citrus and berry splash with flowers–nice dry woodsy peony, in a clean and non-alluring way–but it’s loud. Big invasive sillage that takes over the clothes, like when you switch fabric softeners and can’t get used to the new smell, but even longer lasting.
This one feels like an afterthought, as if it were put out for bottle collectors.
Neon Hitch is also loud and kind of invasive, but is absolutely alluring and by no means an afterthought.
Unisex, because air has no gender, and water is aromantic.
The ambroxan shifts back and forth between cedar, amber and lemon all day long.
Icy clean, yet interesting.
This one would be a lovely cool splash in the summer, but sharp as knives in the winter.
Some more Air:
More from the 4711 sample set of Acqua Colonia minis.
This one hits the sinuses like a cough drop, then sweetens to Italian ice. The ginger doesn’t have much of a bite, but it pushes the lemon out of cleanser territory and into soda-pop.
Lasts a perky half hour.
I’d love it as iced tea, too.
This song is the best of all lemons, ever.
We’re talking candied sour-puss citrus, sweetheart squirt-in-the-eye, twisted-tart fruit goodness.
“Possibility in the blue air.”
Chandler Burr’s collaboration with ELd’O–in an homage to LA–is quite good.
A big fresh peel of grapefruit, then a mint mojito–with really nice white rum–and roses.
It’s bright and fresh and cheerful, loud projection and nice longevity, cool green musk at the end, kind of a Gucci Envy updated for this modern age.
I like it much better than the book, which is not cheerful at all, and has very little citrus.