Solid perfume pot shaped like a gold and mother-of-pearl pocket watch, on a pale green gift box.
Refreshing grapefruit tea, at the edge of a swamp.
Edit – 1/20/23
Found a solid of this and am enjoying it much more than the spray tester I wrote off years ago–the cedar musk is cleaner, the almond topping less muddy–much more pretty marshland than bog. I’ve seen a few comparisons to Un Jardin Sur Le Nil, and while I get a bit of that sunny water garden vibe, this one is more crystalline.
Collector prices are fairly steep, so snag it quick if it’s within the budget. Or just get a bottle of Guerlain’s Pamplelune, if you want a slice of grapefruit.
TokyoMilk bottle with label featuring painting of dancing couple, and a pink rose from my garden.
TokyoMilk No. 14 advertises linden, honeyed rose, wisteria petals and white musk, and yep, that’s all in there, for two hours.
Soft clean lime notes and honeysuckle vibes, with a gritty musk that takes it out of the country and into urban garden territory–grape-sweet wisteria hanging from pergolas, but with some city grunge in the background.
I prefer a mazurka.
Edit – 8/15/21
Found this one in a box with a post-it marked “Try In the Summer?” so here I am. 87 degrees F, and 84% humidity on the east coast of the Bluegrass, today.
The linden has a much bigger presence on warmer skin–greener, with bright citrus florals–and the musky rasp at the bottom seems less synthetic than I remember. I’m always fascinated by how much perfume changes with temperature and weather.
Tall, square, matte-black bottle of Envy Eau de Parfum nestled in the heart of a bunch of celery stalks.
In a happy mood, Envy shimmers with lime and hyacinth and spring pine, but when it’s angry it sulks with celery and wilting roses and verdigris tarnish. Amazing in the rain.
This was my “divorce perfume,” twenty years ago, my splurge at the duty-free shop when I’d run off to cry on a few shoulders, along with the new haircut and leather jacket.
This song, like Envy, came out in 1997–I saw it in concert.
Mini Chanel bottle in the center of a fuchsia daisy.
Chanel No. 5 is the most famous fragrance of the world, and for good reason. No other perfume manages to be such a combination of opposites–clean yet filthy, powdery but also syrupy, delicate and heavy, soothing yet provocative, mature but gamine–all at the same time.
The 80’s eau de parfum splashes on with soapy peaches, juicy but aldehydic, and starchy boned lingerie falling to the floor, in a release of structure giving way to voluptuousness. The flowers in the middle blend to effervescent floral cordial, chased by a Southern Comfort base–smooth woody whisky sweetened by vanilla.
I love it, but I’m no Marilyn Monroe, and this one takes a hefty pair to pull off. (I was 16 when it came out, and Lady Stetson was a bit more my speed.) Wear with a corset and no shame.
Edit – 7/9/21.
Perfume in time of COVID-19: Out of curiosity, I sniffed my mini bottle yesterday, and it smelled like mustard. Today it smells like nothing at all.
The guy asked, “What texture should we have for dinner tonight?” (Flavorless potato chips are very strange!) I’m sure I’ll be okay–I’ve been double vaxxed–so hopefully this will pass soon.
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This song also came out in 1986. Madonna was our Marilyn back then.
Vintage Diorissimo bottle with houndstooth black and white printed label and ceramic cap, filled with pale gold eau.
Muguet and nostalgia. Titania gracing an outdoor wedding, the Snow Queen in her sled in winter. Pure lily-of-the-valley, budding green, blooming to ringing white bells and fading to pungent roots.
My mother wore Diorissimo, which is the only thing I’ll ever have in common with Prince Harry, I’m afraid.
Dior released this one in 1956. The same year Alfred Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew Too Much featured Doris Day singing Que Sera Sera.
Bottle with cute cherry back-printed label, brown branding and a silver tall top, on it’s side.
TokyoMilk #05 touts Wild Rose, Osmanthus Chocolate and Vetiver, and while it’s not the pits, it does fizzle out pretty quickly.
The fragrance sprays on like the waxy chocolate one dips fruit in on Valentine’s Day–then turns into a sporty woody rose for a few minutes and is gone. Nice, but too pricey for zero longevity. I also bought the candle, which sadly smokes like a chimney, but makes absolutely divine furniture polish–my cherry wood table perfumes the room when the sun shines on it.
Edit – 2/27/22
Lasts longer in spring, with more herbal apricot than in my autumn test–or maybe the juice has ripened a bit over the past 5 years–but still doesn’t set off any fireworks.
Just blown out TokyoMilk candle, tin lid with cherry label, and yellow chamois cloth on a wood table.
Gold capped Annick Goutal ridged melon bottle with amber eau, and a gold ribbon holding the wreath tag.
This woman pops a cream candy in her mouth while coolly walking away from the burning house behind her. I’m scared of her, but I want to be her friend.
Edit – 9/12/21
(From my rescued-from-the-back-of-the-closet collection.)
The first bite is a fancy floral sweet mess of tuberose and jasmine, milky white marbled with green, that melts into ylang-ylang with a verdant pop of tomato leaf. The herbal sweetness has a minty vibe, echoed again on the bottom by the patchouli and vanilla. The oak-moss at the base anchors us firmly in the 80’s racks of the consignment shop–patterned silk dresses and art-house punk jackets. (A good place to find a vintage bottle–they can still be found at reasonable prices–though it’s still in production.)
Cheerful and clever, in a movie-heroine-gets-her-revenge-in-the-end-while-smoking-a-menthol way, but I never really took to it. I’ll pass it on to my friend who can quote Heathers word for word.
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The amazing Chaka Khan came out with Ain’t Nobody in 1983. I’m feeling this updated cover today.
Full sized bottle with pale rose motif and back printed with handwritten script, capped with gold tall top, and a bright pink cabbage rose from my garden.
“Cabbage Rose & Citrus”
Matronly green apples and roses on top, sweet florals and wicker furniture on the bottom.
Doesn’t last long–I reach for this one when I want a splash of rose that’s more comforting and less business than Tea Rose–both the fragrance and the packaging has a maternal cottage-chic vibe, but sometimes one is in the mood for that, y’know?
Edit – 6/7/21
Pulled this one out of a box in the back of my closet today. I’d forgotten how much I like it–there’s a clear sweetness that seems really refreshing when compared to so many of the muddy caramel stuff that’s out lately.
The roses I planted this spring actually managed a few blooms–and I had fun comparing the raw materials to the bottled fragrance. Believe definitely captures the softer, apple-ish aspect of the cabbage rose (named for the appearance, not the scent!) versus the sharper lemony quality of the hybrid tea rose.
Stacks of very blue blueberries and Cartier’s signature red leather-look box, and test tube of X.
Cartier’s Ten o’Clock wants to spend the ‘Crazy Hour’ picking blueberries on the forest edge but sadly snoozes with Dad’s outdated watch in the sock drawer.
Ironing starch on cotton handkerchiefs with jam stains that fade to metallic dusty rose.
It makes a nice room scent.
P!nk covered Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy in 2009, when this scent came out. It’s not dusty at all.
kira a. gold 