Starts juicy with sweet orange and neroli, then gets a little rosy before lying down with clean woodsy white musk. Lasts close to the skin for the morning.
It’s nice, but sadly not weird or innovative at all. I want more from the master of surrealism–give me swans reflecting elephants, or burning giraffes, or something cool.
***
“Love is surreal…”
(This is the best song off this album.)
Watery peach tea and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden in the spring.
Great for a high school girl with a big allowance. When she goes to college, she’ll graduate to Lancome Tresor.
*
I love everything Tones and I does with their voice–this stripped down cover is haunting.
Manly herbaceous man who fashionably needs to shave tones it down for a corporate meeting.
Grapefruit juice and lavender for breakfast, oak desk and middle management musk at the end.
He’ll get his promotion soon.
*
The Blind Boys of Alabama are fantastic. This was the intro theme to The Wire.
A good bossy stewardess perfume.
Matter-of-fact grapefruit and grinning roses and brisk musk, but not inviting or invasive.
Starched silk suits on top, sir-take-your-seat-please on the bottom.
Dunja’s strumming technique makes me blush–
Fruity, but hard and cold like all the Omnias–mashed berries on ice that melt in an hour into a pretty floral garnish. The cedar musk lasts longest, sweet and dry on the skin overnight.
I wish the pomegranate and hibiscus were noticeable beyond the initial juicy tartness. I just get an upscale red Kool-aid, and it’s refreshing, but I like a stronger summertime drink.
Apropos. (Wasn’t that one of the Three Musketeers?)
This one makes me feel like I’ve been to that fantastic salon I can’t really afford.
Apple shampoo and flowery conditioner at first, then gorgeous honey notes from peach and clover for an hour.
Dries down to sweet patchy detangler musk.
Not great sillage–three inches above the skin, at most–and not terribly long lasting. Also, oddly greasy on the skin; I’m guessing it would stain a scarf.
(And always remember to tip your stylist.)
Indigo Girls tangling up some Dylan blues.
Soapy with creamy magnolia flowers and ubiquitous church congregation white musk.
A little headache inducing, but the brief driftwood note is kind of interesting.
Eric Clapton and John Meyer covering J.J. Coles’s Magnolia–
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–
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.
Vanilla amber and marshmallow-y musk.
Maybe there’s some almonds in there, too.
It’s okay, but not anything that can’t be found at Victoria’s Secret or Bath and Body Works.
I’ve sort of fallen in love with Pomplamoose. They’re a husband and wife team who’ve made a name for their transparent (what you see is what you get–no post production mixing) cover works online. Here’s another less quiet Another Day.
kira a. gold 