Matcha & Frangipani

Cut glass cologne bottle with pale green and gold label, and box with green tea illustration.

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.

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This song always soothes my soul. A lot of folks have covered it, but Eva Cassidy’s version is my favorite.

Omnia Golden Citrine

Mini Omnia chain link bottle in chrome and bright yellow.

Citrine starts with the transparent juice from canned peaches and mandarin slices, in a nice morning cocktail way, but then fades to powdery yellow flower pollen.

Benzoin at the bottom gets sticky and brings back some of the opening citrus, with the clear syrup from candied peel that bakers use–and I so wish this moment was longer and louder, there’s almost a Shalimar vibe for a second–but everything soon dries down to the Omnia sheer woods base.

Cotton holds the jasmine well, but on skin it’s all gone by noon.
I’ll try it again in the summer. Maybe I’ll like it more.

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Quel Amour!

A pomegranate, blueberries, cherry tomatoes, a golden pear and a rose, with a half full Annick Goutal melon bottle.

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.)

Xmas E

Blue capped vintage splash bottle with gold label, among green tree ornaments.

Merry merry to me!
This came in a cardboard box with very 50s Golden Age ivory scroll packaging–Fragonard first released Xmas E in 1929, possibly to compete with Caron’s Nuit de Noel–though this label font and plastic lid seem more recent.
(The eau is in good shape, though quite dark, and stains the skin like iodine.)
I wish I could find more info on it. A brief note at perfumeintelligence.co.uk, says this was rebranded as “Orchidée,” but I haven’t seen any other reference to that.

Opens with boozy spiced plums and some aldehyde fizz, which I’m guessing might actually be ylang-ylang, roses and sandalwood with a sprinkle of cinnamon.
The florals are balanced out with oaky woods on the bottom. I bet it was marketed to men, too, when it was first made.
Very festive in a mulled wine way–I think it’s cool that our ideas of what smells like Christmas hasn’t changed in almost a hundred years.

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Listening to this one tonight.
Merry merry, all.

Omnia Amethyste

omnia Amethyste
Purple edged Bvlgari chrome link, distorted through an amethyst glass vase.

Purple flowers made of glass.

Opens with a breath of citrus and wet green, but then gets cool and clear the way that all the Omnias do, this time with powdery iris that blooms for a hour, and heliotrope at the bottom that lasts all morning.
Some faint woods close to the skin give it a pretty solidity, like a crystal vase with a heavy base.

There’s an interesting fragile-but-strong vibe to it.

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This caught my morning mood.

Omnia Indian Garnet

omnia indian garnet
Orange and chrome mini Omnia chain link bottle, casting cool shadows.

Remember those transparent glycerine soaps from the ’70s?
(Yes, I’m that old.)
Omnia Indian Garnet is the orange one.

Opens with sharp mandarin peel and some spicy flower dust, and slowly washes down to glittery amber and comfy clean woods on the skin.

It’s sheer and nice, and lingers on cotton, but I wish more of the tuberose came through.

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Ellery songs linger nicely, too.

Blossom Love

Opaque pink mini bottle with silver dome lid and Amouage medallion.

Artificial cherry and Very Expensive dress shop.

The first Amouage that I don’t like, even though it’s rather similar to my cherished L.L. Amarena Whim.
The muddled amber at the bottom somehow cheapens it for me–like it’s trying too hard to be chic and popular.
(At my age, I’m trying too hard to be young and beautiful, so maybe I’d have appreciated more depth to the rose?)

Almondy floral tonka all day on the skin with a roomful of projection, and candy syrup on the cuffs all night.

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How fun is this?!

Ubar

Amouage mini bottle in gold ombre rising to clear, balanced on three clementines.

Elemental flowers in a sacred orange grove.

A burst of citrus, juicy unfiltered pulp and zest everywhere, then huge jasmine and ylang-ylang grow, so heavy and heady that they’re animalic and grubby underneath–except there’s enough lily-of-the-valley green suds hidden inside that everything fluctuates between dirty and clean, indolics vs. aldehydes, flora to fauna.
Metallic amber and earthy sandalwood try to give some support, but they’re overtaken by the chaotic florals that rise to outer space and last all night long.

Brilliant, but too much for me–Ubar’s flowers would swallow me whole and spit out my bones like tangerine seeds.

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An enormous song taken down to natural elements.

Labdanum Doux

2ml sample bottle with black screw-on cap, and purple flocked fabric pouch. Jeffery Dame’s samples are a bit pricey, but there’s a generous amount of eau.

Lady Stetson covered in Band-Aids.

Peaches and ylang-ylang, wrapped in medical-grade adhesive, trying to be indolic and skanky but only managing awkwardly cute.
Mossy musk hits between the eyes after half an hour, with a bit of spice that doesn’t quite settle in place.
Fades to amber antiseptic funk on the skin within two hours.

I usually have more fun with labdanum, but here I just get gooey plastic.

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Doux means soft in French. Here’s some softness from Ani DiFranco-

4711 Rose

Large 4711 bottle with pink details, a small classic teal flask, and a bright pink rose.

When did Tide start making rose-flavored pods?

Detergent floral that strips the nuance of the original. I put it in the medicine chest, but it might do better in the laundry room to lift stains.

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This song (and the video) is jarring, but also has incredible tension and nuance.