Simple but quite nice.
Rosy peonies sweetened by lily-of-the-valley musk for a few hours, finishing to smoky tea on the skin.
This would make a lovely wedding scent for a sophisticated bride.
This isn’t exactly a proposal song, but it’s probably the prettiest cover of a Nirvana tune that I’ve ever heard.
Soapy dry rose that settles into a metallic musk that grows and grows and takes over living rooms and puts its feet on the furniture.
The vanilla shows up briefly a half an hour in, but can’t compete with the ambroxan-patchouli that sits like a penny in the mouth and puts Black Sabbath tunes in the head all day.
An awesome and invasive modern take on an old rose.
Rob Zombie’s Dragula might be my favorite metal song, but today I’m feeling this Ella style take of the best revenge song ever:
This is what you wind up smelling like when you’ve been attacked in Bath & BodyWorks by the associate wielding Warm Vanilla Sugar, and you try to wash it off in their dinky sink with something that promises to be perfume-free but isn’t.
Here’s another “Skin.” Much sweeter, and twice as sultry.
Herbal-sweet and sheer, and comforting, without any overt invitation.
Opens with a taste of upscale hipster lavender vodka, then the neroli blooms, delicate and sugary with a faint twist of grapefruit zest.
Stays at elbow length for an hour, then settles to the skin with rainwater musk.
Too fragile for summer, but it would sparkle in the snow.
This cover is equally as delicate.
This smells like the hand sanitizer in an outdoor wedding port-a-potty. It’s been monogrammed with the bride and groom’s initials and sports a real rosebud with a ribbon bow–but still leaves one desperate to wash the hands properly.
Pink florals on top, white musk and miniature bubble wands on the bottom.
A song with some carats.
TokyoMilk #11
I get dolls heads, when they break down and become sticky, flowery vanilla and non-dairy creamer.
There’s a naughty age-inappropriate edge to it–the nursery nanny in the push-up bra–but it doesn’t do more than flirt for a while.
Fun.
Cloud pops open with herbs and artificial pears, then some sweet mushy stuff wiggles in the middle over a solid base note of woodsy chemical musk.
It’s got a hook–I keep going back to sniff the peelie–but it’s just too synthetic for me to want to purchase.
Kind of like a lot of Ariana’s songs, actually.
(Ugh. I’m old and crotchety. Girl can belt it, and I do like this one.)
TokyoMilk #19 – Magnolia, Jasmine, Sheer Citrus, White Musk
Too skinny for the ingredients.
A musky white flower concoction with peacock branding should be big and voluptuous, and Paradiso is at most a juniors size 6.
*
Thin Lizzy’s guitarist does some sweet solo stuff–
Musky lavender and green flower buds project loud at first, but neroli calms it down. There’s a prickly mess of flowers in the middle, then it bottoms out in the woods.
Not sweet enough for me, but I bet it’s nice in the rain.
Right now, M.I.A. is the Brit with the best rhythm.
Neroli, waves and sunshine.
I spent a few summers on Fire Island when I was little, the volleyball net at the Pines marking the nude beach–suits vs. skins games all day except high tide–and I’d come home with a pail full of seashells, a permanent sunburn and sand everywhere.
This scent has that freedom, wind and ocean spray and surf and naked skin, with a lovely base of top shelf zinc tanning lotion.
Projects two beach blankets over, and lasts til the sun goes down and the disco starts.
“Somewhere there is a gay man with a magic lamp and two wishes left.” -Jerrod C.
kira a. gold 