citrus

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Magnolia

magnolia edges
Micro Borsari 1870 bottle with Scandinavian folk-art graphic, and blue bow.

Vintage bottle from the La Collezione Borsari 1870.

There’s a fresh lemony zest to magnolia, a little more creamy/waxy than roses, spring rather than summer. I can find it in the middle of L’Instant de Guerlain, and at the opening of J’adore.

This baby sings in big white full bloom, with an oddly pleasant sour civet and traces of vetiver holding it in place–what research I found indicates it was released in 1970, and those were trendy bases then.
Lasts for decades, in a marvelous retro way.

The Muddy Magnolias are amazing!

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Blood Orange & Basil

blood orange and basilI got a sample set of 4711 Acqua Colonia and I’m having so much fun with these clever and quick little splashes–I grew up on the original.

This one is bright–a soap-bubble pop of herbal cleansing that finishes with brisk citrus.
The basil sticks pleasantly to cotton for several hours after the orange is long gone.

More Blood Orange pleasant herbal-pop cleverness–

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Shalimar

shalimarConfession:
I’m horribly intimidated by people who worship at the altar of Guerlain.
They say, “Mitsuoko, a classic of the genre,” and “L’Heure Bleue is my universal reference,” in reverent tones. I nod silently and try to look discerning while hoping my Lolita Lempicka or LUSH holds against my nervous sweat.

I keep trying Shalimar–vintage bottles and new–and sometimes it’s cedar sawdust and vanilla powder, and sometimes it’s leathery old lemons and oddly sweet turpentine.
I’ve just never gotten a “feel” for the stuff. It lasts forever on the skin, projects like mad, and reminds everybody else of somewhere, some time, or someone, but I’ve never understood the magic.
Everything wonderful is in there–a citrus opening, earthy rose and patchy iris in the middle, smoke and civet and balsam on the bottom–but there’s never that gestalt moment when the scent becomes more than the sum of its parts.

So I keep sniffing it, hoping for the a-ha understanding, when my novice schnozz graduates to full-on fragonista, capital-N-Nose, and maybe I will see the light that is Guerlain.

Shalimar was introduced in 1925, when Paris was overrun with American jazz and the années folles of art and entertainment following the Great War.
Gershwin hit Europe with Rhapsody in Blue that same year.
This father-son duo do a great piano arrangement.

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Acqua di Mughetti

Acqua di Mughetti edgy
Borsari 1870 micro bottle with pale blue ribbon and label with a night sky and moon.

Pure Lily-of-the-Valley, first released in 1920.

The first notes are clean lemony florals, then the tune centers on delicate sweet white flowers with a creme fraiche texture.
Settles into gentle soap aldehydes at the end.

This might be a soliflore, but I get a tiny hit of orange blossom that curbs the usual green edge under the lily bells.
Lasts a pretty two hours close to the skin.

Another Lily-of-the-Vally.

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Verde

verde
Nest mini-bottles in a purple dish, the one in front with a label illustrated with ferns.

Grandma’s bath salts (which also had a fern on the bottle, I think–)

Opens with harsh herbal lime and pine pitch, then softens down to nice wet crushed bracken and soap suds.

Stays close to the body all day, and leaves green smelling stains on the clothes.
I’d enjoy this on a guy–the alpha male who scrubs up clean.

Here’s more of the same color.

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Joy by Dior Intense

joy intense
Ad peelie of glass bottle with pink eau. (The store tester did not stain my clothes.)

Soooo much better than the first draft.

The sad Earl Grey sachet is now bright bergamot zest, the pale cream made into sweet vanilla custard, and the rose is a full bouquet of long stemmed high teas.

Sandalwood and tonka add warmth and spice, and if the musk were a little more sheer, I’d buy it by the quart.

(The backup ladies absolutely steal this cover!)