Springtime in a Park is supposed to replicate Shanghai 2019, but I get Car Wash 2004.
Starts out with a blast of flower lather, and then some not-quite-shrieking neon-green pear liquid soap, then blooms with bonkers loud lily-of-the-valley suds.
Bath-time is over in an hour, drying down to clean musk on the skin.
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Donna Summer had much better spring fling flair.
Dolly Parton’s new perfume is a trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee in a bottle.
Opens with the strawberries-and-cream saltwater taffy from Old Smoky Candy Kitchen–soft fruity pink and gooey sweet–and lasts as long as one takes to melt in the mouth.
The middle is pure Dollywood, rhinestone musk and jasmine encore bouquets, synthetic but charming, though nowhere near as loud.
Finishes with a lingering view of the mountains, green forest woods and a hint of pine.
Oddly, Dolly is a bit shy, staying in personal space and fading quickly to the skin. I’d expect this brief a performance from a cologne, not a celebrity eau de parfum, but her short songs are good, too.
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This remix takes Dolly out of the mountains and into the club, with Junior Vasquez mixing Ladysmith Black Mambazo into the beats to raise the sun.
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.
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This sweet little song goes to Paris, Texas.
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.
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The Cocteau Twins kept it surreal.
A lovely crisp candied apple with a citrus zest, feminine and smart, but this is no shy cherub–she’s loud enough to make one a bit cross-eyed at close quarters.
Angel EDT is a cleaner version of the original, less syrup, less musk–the apple held in place with light pink florals at the top that slide into a wet minty patchouli and finish with sweet pale woods.
Lasts all day and sparkles in the cold, but tends to leave crumbs on my couch and wears my favorite hoodie without asking–my house is too small for the both of us.
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The air is foggy today and the wind skates just on the edge of freezing, trailing icicles as she goes.
I feel a lot of kinship with Dolce Vita.
She tries really hard to be that spicy peach tart who likes a good cinnamon roll (and a little sugar in her bowl…) but can’t quite get the pieces together enough to pull off the whole outfit.
The ingredients are all there–juicy ripe fruits at the beginning, spicy vamp seduction in center, and lingering vanilla woods at the end–but the top is too young, the skirt too brash, the shoes too cute.
I keep trying it, hoping somehow she might have gotten over the awkward stage and come into her own, but in thirty years all that’s changed is that the gold leaf has flaked off the bottle.
Me too, Dolce Vita. Me too.
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This song came out 90 years ago and is still one of the filthiest songs ever recorded.
Bright waxy McIntosh apple skin out of the vial, with boozy pipe tobacco.
Pine comes in quickly, but less evergreen and more flowering conifer–the autumn blooming trees with the dusty pollen, immortelle-ish sweet.
Linear, loud, and long-lasting, with country fair vibes.
I’d enjoy it more as a candle.
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Carnival madness with Eddie Izzard.
Pez powder fruit salad, for the soprano who is too modest for Deci Dela.
There’s something sharp and high-pitched about it, yet sweet–the aria where the ingenue laments in white while holding a dagger.
Loud in personal space with spicy pomegranate and sour cherry dust, and good in the afternoon with a glass of rosé, (which, like Quel Amour! and opera, gives a headache if over indulged.)
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Cool pandemic art. (Annie Lennox is not shrill.)
This relaunch came out in 2008–a complete break from the original Lagerfeld tuberose potion— now a sheer tea rose.
New Chloé opens with sweet soapy peonies and a soft fruity hit of lychee. 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.
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Here are some feminine roses and other flowers, from the album Petals for Armor.
Big bang bubblegum, for adults only.
Drunk peach and vampy tuberose that bursts loud and proud and marvelous.
A twist of orange for zing, carnation for spice, roses to flirt, and a woody base for backbone.
This girl does what and whom she pleases, tuberoses untethered, with a wink and a pop and a smile.
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First released in 1948, Fracas was a favorite of Rita Hayworth and Brigitte Bardot. Released again in 1998, it became a signature scent of Madonna. Ray of Light came out that year, too.
kira a. gold 