This one bombs an apple orchard with flowers–exploding petals everywhere–big fat magnolias, roses, white lilies, orange blossoms, ylang ylang, tons of neroli.
White musk takes over after fifteen minutes with a metallic edge that somehow cheapens the flowers, like a vase made from aluminum, then everything fades to a lick of ambergris on the skin.
I’d like it more as a candle.
I dreamed of a pilgrimage to Monet’s waterlily garden, like all impressionable teenage art students–
TokyoMilk No. 33 opens with poisoned alcohol, that metallic knife edge of distillation fumes called “the angels’ share.”
Dusty bruised apples roll in fast, brown sugar and rose–nice, but on me soon get lost in the forest green notes–and end in bittersweet musk.
A fairy-tale step-mother perfume.
Movie soundtrack videos are usually kind of meh, but this one is fun.
In-the-face PIE.
Toasted caramel, baked berries and vanilla cream. A hit of roses keeps it from being too cloying.
It’s a step above a Yankee Candle Bakewell Tart, but one I’d put in the Scentsy warmer rather than wear.
Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab blends are hit or miss for me–but the quality of the oils is always good.
*
Daamn can Nancy Wilson play guitar.
Lollia #88.
(Part of the Poetic License Collection.)
The top notes of cassis and patchouli are fun for a minute, but then it turns sulky with sour sandalwood on the bottom.
Lasts a couple hours on the skin.
Another one by Margot Elena that would make a good quality candle, but seems cheap on the skin.
This Night is so much more fun:
A bite of bergamot and green apples, then huge gardenias, the kind my grandmother used to grow, big waxy white flowers with shiny green leaves that took over her living room.
Florence grows that big–one roll on the wrist and it’s all through the house.
I like it better after an hour, when it settles down to light woodsy musk on the skin.
Florence, of course.
Bright wet loud green floral, but clumsy.
Lily-of-the-valley after they’ve been beaten by rain storms, hothouse tropicals bruised by the automatic sprinkler–
But then it goes overboard, into silage territory: a florist’s trimmings bucket and watermelon rind compost and fermented cucumber pulp.
Doesn’t come out of clothing until washed in hot water.
If it were less heavy-handed I’d enjoy the weirdness of it, in an I Am Trash kind of way.
This Passiflora (a folk band out of Costa Rica) is not clumsy at all.
A gorgeous balm scent that feels so lovely–I put it on my elbows, my knees, the back of my hands–anywhere the skin is rough in the winter.
The stick goes on like velvet, warming up peachy sweet with a hint of citrus, and stays a few inches above the skin for several hours. Finally soaks in with sugared iris and some rosy sandalwood.
Would make a nice first perfume for a kidling.
This piece is comforting and sweet, too.
Movin’ to the country,
Gonna eat a lot of peaches
—Presidents of the United States of America
(That song is stuck in my head now.)
Last year, Scentbird sent me a few things to sample in nice purse spray decants. Saint by Kat von D was one of the most fun.
There’s a fun vampy feel to it–a 1950’s burger joint date in the spring–wood paneling dash, a drive under blooming fruit trees with the top down, ending in a peach parfait with two spoons–but there’s some smoke in the sugar, and the flowers lean toward musk, keeping it from being silly.
Nice.
This one comes across as timid to me–like it wants to be Enchanted Forest when it grows up, or maybe Euphoria, but it’s afraid of the trees.
Citrus and macerated fruit, dark purple jam that turns into green tea with a hit of spice and slowly fades to a musky aquatic note with a whisper-wish of woods.
It’s nice, but needs something to give it more backbone, more identity.
Maybe Indigo just needs more mood.
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.
kira a. gold 