Peachy aldehydes that morph into peppery spice–cinnamon and clove, balsam and patchouli–then fade to oriental incense over dry powdery rose.
This one was first released in 1953–Joan Crawford wore it. It’s got a great slinky, film noir, dark-silhouette-framed-in-smoke feel… she commands all your attention until she’s done with you.
This one came out the same year.
Soapy dry rose that settles into a metallic musk that grows and grows and takes over my living room and puts its feet on my 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.
An interesting and invasive modern take on an old rose.
An Ella style take of the best revenge song ever:
Rhinestones rather than diamonds, but still fun to wear.
The tropical fruit salad opening has an orange edge that hits the back of the throat and unfortunately keeps the pear from sparkling, but it fades quickly to jasmine and warm musk on the skin for hours.
I’m a bit conflicted about the marketing. I went off a bit about philosophy’s “Nude Rose,” for using the same color scheme.
This song has all the color, cut and clarity.
She sits close, with powdery lemon cake for an hour or two.
A white cotton dress perfume, worn for afternoon tea and croquet, or sweet iced tea and horseshoes.
Pretty, but shy.
Colette Magny was a French blues singer and activist. I love this cover. It’s a little shy, too.
Weird fruit tart with sprinkles.
Shrill kiwi slices on top a white cupcake iced with white chocolate, decorated with some white flowers.
Lasts long after the party is over, ending with woody vanilla and birthday candle wax (that may be a feature of my solid scent rather than the spray) and musk.
Enormously popular, but the best of Britney’s lot is by far Midnight Fantasy.
This cover of Womanizer is pretty good–
Clementines and waxy white flowers and vetiver–but sadly dry, not a tongue-crazy kiss on the Eiffel Tower at all.
I’d love this as a linen spray on chaste nights, a goodnight sweetness rather than un baiser amoureux.
A cute little song sung by the former first lady of France–
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: