I’m really enjoying this one from 4711’s Limited Tea edition.
Soft and sweet green tea over milky tropical florals in a soothing cologne with surprising projection and staying power. Usually 4711 Acqua Colonias are gone in ten minutes with almost no sillage at all–and that’s part of their charm, a secret personal pick-me-up–but this floats around the body for a good half hour with matcha mochi coolness, and the frangipani lingers on silk all day.
Leans to the feminine in a fluttery skirts way. Also brilliant on bath towels.
This song always soothes my soul. A lot of folks have covered it, but Eva Cassidy’s version is my favorite.
Fir and sweet balsam pine, with benzoin making it soft. There’s a timeless quality to Fresh As, as if it could have been worn by a troubadour of centuries past, with stringed instruments made of spruce wood and polished with golden resins, yet also by a modern musician, fresh electric ozone and green Recording-In-Progress lights. Pair with a clever shirt and a tweed cap.
My brother introduced me to this one–I love the way this is filmed, so we feel like we’re in the studio with them.
Moon Bloom is ridiculously decadent, an indulgence of white flowers with that indolic reminder that flowers are sex organs.
Opens with fresh sharp green, like the first cut of a thick plant stem, of big florid tuberose and jasmine, then gets even lusher with a hint of spice in sweet cream, and fleshy coconut. That’s all in the first five minutes, and where it stays for two days, melting slowly down into the skin.
There’s a roughness to it, making one aware of the quality of the raw materials (the way a really good olive oil has a heady earthiness, or how heavy dupioni silk bends light) that easily justifies the top shelf cost.
I’d consider springing for a bottle, if I weren’t already cheating on Fracas with Love Tuberose.
Snowy Owl is clever and gorgeous and a little wistful–
Opens with wintry wind notes, and a weird animalic beat that really does smell like feathers (that anyone who has kept chickens would immediately recognize, and can be found in new down pillows, too) but is freshened by sugary alpine mint. There’s a tease of spring florals, green and sharp but distant, and a vaguely earthy sweet resin that’s somehow creamy, like ice milk that hasn’t been flavored yet. Projection is mild, but not exactly linear, with white forest floor musk shyly creeping in now and then. Lasts most of the day, and even longer on mitten cuffs.
Recommended for ski instructors, Swan Lake dancers, and anyone else–but only when the temperature is below freezing out.
I love this melancholy winter song–and how amazing this party must have been!
Opens summer bright with bunches of wet greens, more lily-of-the-valley in the rain than water lotus. And appropriately, This Moment lasts only a few of them, soon settling to the skin with orange flower honey and gone in an hour.
A safe blind buy gift for tweens on up, and pretty on the vanity.
L’Air des Alpes Suisses is chilly and gorgeous, and stays that way. The ambergris is a gust of cold wind carrying snow and pine, with a weirdly enjoyable sweet whiff of gasoline–and it echoes. The camphor in the woods somehow resonates, the way a struck bell vibrates the air in the room, with a slow two hour fade to the skin.
The linear sound wave quality is very cool, a good example of synesthesia in perfumery, though I keep wondering if it will resolve at the end. (Is there a tease of warmth and chocolate in there, or is that my own wishful thinking?)
I like it very much, but I bet it’s a completely different scent in August.
An electro-pop dance hit out of Zurich that’s oddly soothing, with a gorgeous little video.
Sweet, buttery green tuberose sharpened by spice with a serrated edge. Turns creamy on the skin with nice projection and lasts all day, but the geranium sticks to the cuffs with a funny veggie side dish note. Pretty, but makes me crave fried chicken.
The structure is similar to Tuberose Flash, from the Tauerville collection, which I absolutely love. so I sprayed that on my other wrist to compare. Flash’s benzoin softens the jasmine and patchouli, where the ambergris and spices in Sotto La Luna brightens them. Of course, I went for the spice cabinet next. and hit the raw materials. The clove was obvious, the sweet bite on top, but the cinnamon was more subtle–just a dusting of warmth. That was fun. (I’ll stay with Flash.)
1919. House of Guerlain, Paris France. Nobody: Jacques: Here’s gunpowder and blood, coffin-woods and grave-moss, because War. Nobody: (blinks) Jacques: And some peaches and jasmine so it’s pretty.
Wow. Guerlain’s iconic Mitsouko is goth as Hell. Opens with the sharp tang of citrus and peaches–bright coins to pay the ferryman–but made sanguine with roses. Funeral flowers bloom, more roses and lilac and jasmine, and slowly dry to cedar box dust. At the end, embalming spices rise from the skin, and ash smoke–the powdery residue of battle–until they fade to moss and lichen on headstones.
For elegant widows, death obsessed poets and wannbe undertakers.
This cheerful little tune is surprisingly dark–John Cale’s classic made modern by Owen Pallett.