Nestlé apple flavored Quik.
And Crayons.
Opens with some herbs and a basket of fresh apples, that soon turn milky sweet with lily-of-the-valley and violet powder, and then slides down to the skin with waxy musk for half the day.
I don’t know how to explain how silly this smells.
*
Some ridiculous NSFW Doja Cat
Green pears and ginger musk with some synthetic rosebuds in between.
Shy inside personal space for a quiet morning and drifts down to wet woods on the skin.
Unassuming and uninspiring.
First Base is a much more intriguing woody pear.
*
It’s pouring out.
Tea-time lingerie.
A splash of milky Earl Grey bergamot with a bit of fresh fruit on the side–a flirty opening that quickly gets shy, retreating to a hand-span off the skin, cologne weight–but it lasts for over half the day with a constant tease of voluptuous florals and bit of wood inside clothing.
There’s a brilliant stilted sexiness to it that’s hard to explain, kind of like art house porn that’s been edited to a PG-13 rating.
I might hang onto this one for a while.
*
More tea.
After the whomp on the head with several big trees–and a few apple bruises–the resins of the previous editions swing in, but they’re much tamer now.
The bleach, musk and pee have been cleaned up with cider and polished with more frankincense, and the woods lounge just inside personal space for a long hot afternoon.
He’s still a cheeky monkey, but at least there’s no feces being flung anymore.
*
Another monkey edition:
Perfect for young teen things who still decorate their bedrooms with twinkle lights and ruffled throw pillows, but whose musical tastes are surprisingly quite refined.
Opens with orange juice and pink pepper, then settles into a nice peach Hawaiian Ice–that really wants to be a Bellini when she’s old enough to drink–inside social distance, and ends after a few giggly hours of sheer vanilla musk on the skin.
Cute and lighthearted, but not silly.
*
Isla Crall is a very impressive young woman.
A dentist’s office–kid’s fruity toothpaste, floral hand sanitizer, fish tank salt, vague panic and rubber soled shoes.
Gets a bit into the face and lasts as long as that smooth feeling on the incisors after a polishing.
This is the second time I’ve thought, “Maybe I won’t bother trying the new Nest when it comes out.”
I think I’ll go floss my molars now.
*
My dentist pipes in “Hits of the Seventies.”
A headier, smoother version of the original Sì. The vanilla has been culled and the alcoholic woods replaced with benzoin, making the rose and currant syrupy and delicious–almost chocolaty–with a resinous base.
If the first version is meant to be worn on rosebud and champagne day dates, Intense is meant for falling petals and cream sherry evenings at home.
Lasts all night long, and forever on silk scarves.
*
A sultry silk scarf song.
Angel Iced Star is the best Piña Colada ever:
Blend until smooth-
4 parts pineapple juice
2 parts ice
1 part Coco Lopez cream of coconut
2 parts Malibu Coconut Rum
Top with vanilla flavored whipped cream and a dash of nutmeg.
I could drink these all day long–but I wouldn’t want to smell like I bathed in them.
*
I remember ’70’s summers and all the parents on the block getting stoned and making the kids virgin coladas, and telling us to go out and play and not come home until dusk–
This is an amazing gem of a scent!
Lanvin Me seems to have simple ingredients, but the blueberries juxtaposed with licorice is almost dissonant, and the sandalwood–which makes an evocative smudge of smoke–is surprisingly alluring. The bit of tuberose sweetening and roses keep it pretty, but they’re unanchored and a little wistful–
And somehow, it absolutely works.
There’s an unexpected cleverness that elevates it out of fashion/pop-star fruity-floral territory and makes it unique–a multifaceted aspect that includes all four seasons: spring blooms, summer berries, autumn campfires, winter spice.
Lasts a nice six hours in personal space, and another six on clothing, and can easily be worn any day of the year.
Affordable and accessible online–definitely one I’ll recommend.
*
or, Kirkland’s in liquid form.
Seriously, this stuff opens with nice juicy tropical peach dangling-from-the-mirror car air freshener, or maybe even the clip-onto-the-vent-because-my-dog-barfed-on-the-way-to-the-vet, you-can-buy-it-in-wax-melts-too kind.
The fruit fades to the skin over the next six hours into spice mix potpourri from the store at the mall that starts selling cinnamon scented pine cones in September.
If you can afford to splurge, Tom Ford’s Bitter Peach is the surreal masterpiece–but an awesome, long lasting succulent peach for a tenth the cost of Bel Rebel is Outremer Pêche. Or if you want that retro spice bottom, go with Dior’s Dolce Vita.
*
Proper nasty punk Peaches, that you won’t hear on the Muzak speakers in Kirkland’s.
kira a. gold 