The final flanker from the DKNY Hearts the World set, and the best of the lot.
This time our girl is drinking wine at the nearest bar after French Club let out and enjoying a menthol cigarette. The usual green apple has turned to chardonnay, the flowers-for-teacher left in the classroom, the sandalwood burnt to patchouli ash.
Lasts a few hours in personal space–then the dry-down turns surprisingly rich and masculine on the skin for a few hours more, a rough vanilla cologne vibe that elevates Paris way above the other cities in this line. Definitely one to snag at TJMaxx.
I love a good pun. These Purple Lips open with juicy blueberries that would stain the teeth, and linger on violet and lilac flower candy that dye the tongue. Sheer woody musk on bottom keeps it in personal space for half the day.
But one could easily find this scent–though maybe not as cool a bottle–in a fast fashion chain for teens. I want more from the house of Salvador Dali. Give me chessboards on the ocean floor. Give me ship sails made of butterflies.
Citrine starts with the transparent juice from canned peaches and mandarin slices, in a nice morning cocktail way, but then fades to powdery yellow flower pollen.
Benzoin at the bottom gets sticky and brings back some of the opening citrus, with the clear syrup from candied peel that bakers use–and I so wish this moment was longer and louder, there’s almost a Shalimar vibe for a second–but everything soon dries down to the Omnia sheer woods base.
Cotton holds the jasmine well, but on skin it’s all gone by noon. I’ll try it again in the summer. Maybe I’ll like it more.
Delight is quite nice, with tropical sweet flowers that settle to a good ’70’s funky green jasmine. I get a pinch of gourmand spice, though none are listed–maybe the bottom notes of the rose?–that makes it modern and feminine and fun.
A single drop fades to the skin in two hours, but lasts on fabric for days. This might be the most mainstream fashion, blind-buy-safe blend from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab that I’ve sniffed so far. I’d rec it to anyone who loves Estée Lauder flower showers but has a reaction to the woody musk on the bottom.
Delightful song with some retro funk and modern sweetness.
This one came out in 2005 and wasn’t in production long–my mini came in a vintage lot I found online.
A pink grapefruit with lotus and woodsy musk, Addict 2 is the free-spirited big sister of Versace’s 2006 Bright Crystal. Watermelon keeps the pomegranate lighthearted, with a hint of sweetness from lily-of-the-valley. Sheer sandalwood holds the base close to the skin.
I do wonder about the dedication to this scent–full-sized sealed bottles are a hot auction item and can go for niche prices–it’s a bit pale and thin to me. Eau de Star (2007) has more depth and longevity and is easier to find, if one is looking for a fresh retro watermelon.
Pop songs and perfumes can make addiction seem fashionable but dependency shouldn’t be taken lightly. The SAMHSA website provides a lot of info on substance abuse and recovery help.
Another olfactory pun by Tom Ford… fake flowers indeed.
I get a nice light orange honey out of the bottle that slowly turns purple–grape juice dye no. 69, lolly-sweet–and a huge mixed bouquet of gorgeous flowers, that weirdly smells more and more plastic the closer it gets to the skin. Several hours later the blooms fade to faux suede–is it the labdanum that gives a slight chemical smoke?–and vanilla with a resin wood base, that last all night long.
I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s lovely from a distance, but Velvet Orchid costs a lot of money for a bunch of artificial flowers, and the concept of “tacky couture” can seem elitist and absurd.
Carnation smoke and green kid gloves, with retro tailoring.
Fills the room with sharp with incense-y labdanum and chrysanthemum florals out of the bottle, then settles to a bright spicy clove. 1970’s Estee Lauder moss soon creeps in over 80’s Drakkar Noir leather, but manages to stay delicate, the whole day long. There’s a nice witchy “cool aunt” vintage vibe to it.
Sweeter on clothes than on the skin.
This B-side came out in 1980, and layers strung out funk with a bit of new age synth.
New Chloé opens with sweet soapy peonies and a soft fruity hit of litchi. The rose blooms quickly, so squeaky shower clean it’s almost transparent, and lasts inside personal space until soaked off again in a hot bath.
Floral, feminine and pristine. I’m way too messy to pull it off.
Here are some feminine roses and other flowers, from the album Petals for Armor.
In the summer Cabotine is an overwhelming mess of spicy flowers; in cold weather it becomes cassis tea with honey.
Heavy carnation, gingery white florals and huge green hyacinth are eye-watering in the heat, with a whopping dose of black currant on the top and bottom giving a bite of acidic fruit in the beginning and an angry cat scratch at the end.
But in the winter, everything blends into sweetness, berries and nectar and soft musk, cheerful and petal soft–and worn under clothes, the sillage relaxes to an enjoyable comforting layer. Lasts til morning on skin, and til spring on fabric.
Cabotine came out in 1990. So did Sinéad O’Connor’s iconic cover of Prince’s “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
A spontaneous date in a bottle that starts flirty and sweet, and ends dirty (in the best way.)
Comes in with a two pound bag of Haribo peach gummies and an armload of white roses that soon get rogered up by earthy patchouli. Brash and loud, it gives you a laughing good time, and hangs out til the next morning.
And I’d call it “genderful” rather than “unisex,” sliding all over the spectrum–from sugary feminine florals to blunt masculine woods–rather than staying in some safe place in between.