Lots of wet citrus in the beginning, loud and bright and cheerful.
Orange–the fresh first pull of peel–slowly settles down to bergamot tea, poured over ice.
An hour later there’s some woods with a hit of salt, like driftwood in the sun. Patchouli comes in at the bottom, a bit of smoke over water on the skin, and lingers for the afternoon.
This one is young at heart, but she’s got grace.
Hermès used a snippet of this audio art in the ad–but the whole thing deserves a listen.
Polished leather and bergamot tea and suave manners at the start, sweet woods and spice and innuendo at the finish.
For the guy who is aggressively smart, rather than physically dominating.
(But why on earth does Blake Lively’s husband’s ARMANI shirt fit him so badly in the advert?!)
I love the Deadpool movies–this is a great cover of Wade’s favorite song.
A trip to India, for spices and Darjeeling and marigolds.
Opens with big bright lemon and brash cardamom–heaping handfuls still in their green pods.
There’s an interesting warm-and-cool, push-pull to the top notes that keeps it from settling down–and it stays that way, fresh from the citrus, yet powdery with the spice–for several hours at arms length.
Eventually green tea musk slides in, soothing it down and pulling the sillage in. Finishes with a breath of woody flowers on the skin.
A lovely scent for summer daytime wear.
Stromae is a Belgian musician who also manages to be both dry and refreshing (and stylish–his design line, Mosaert, is gorgeous!) His first hit came out in 2010, the same time as the fragrance.
I like blood oranges, and this is a nice ripe one.
Opens with a bright hit of sweet juice then settles to peel, with a breath of green underneath. Sits two inches above the wrist for an hour or two, then fades to candied citron and sandalwood on the skin.
It’s a little pricey for the lack of longevity and projection, but maybe not for a citrus aficionado.
Blood Orange is amazing and this video is a giggle. The costumes are brilliant–I keep wondering what scents they all might be wearing–
For the girl who wants to fit in.
Fashion is stressful–she likes her school uniform. Daisy is mild-mannered and pleasant, and doesn’t bring attention to herself.
Strawberry ice cream and shy violets, some unassuming citrus and pale woody musk at the end.
I hung the solid pendant from my rear-view, and now my car smells rather nice, but also like I haven’t been driving long.
Colbie Caillat released this sweet little song out in 2007, the same year Marc Jacobs came out with Daisy.
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.
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.
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.
kira a. gold 