Thierry Mugler’s Eau de Star bottles up that summer you spent with the bleach blonde stoner cutie who carved a bong out of a watermelon.
Fresh and wet and high and unforgettable.
It was my favorite candy perfume until the guy said, “That reminds me of what (our hot European neighbor) wears.”
She’s ten years younger than me and a flight attendant.
I love this live version of Madonna’s Candy Perfume Girl, bitchy and hard and still sweet.
Or, lemon balm and vervain.
Bright citrus without the bite, that settles down to woody tonic water.
Greener and sharper and more linear than the original–I miss the sweetness and the quickly shifting nuances–but longer lasting.
Good for cocktails on the patio, perhaps.
Edit — 8/14/21
I usually pass fragrances that I wouldn’t wear on to someone who would appreciate them, but I’ve had Melissa & Verbena for years and still not found a home for it.
There’s an herbal musk at the bottom that sits strangely on the skin, so not one to use as a mask spritz, either.
4711 released it in 2009, but I don’t think it was in production long.
Lemon & Ginger was the hit of that run, and is still made today.
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This came out the same year. Saw it in concert–it was awesome.
“Lemon leather,” “vanilla vinyl,” “rubber baby powder flowers,” and “amber sandalwood,” are all tongue twisters.
Black is equally confounding, made up of all those seemingly discordant syllables, yet somehow is absolutely marvelous.
Yes, it smells like WD-40* and tires–but they’re not Goodyear treads baking in the summer sun at a smoky track, they’re Victorian bicycle tyres ridden by gentlefolk on jasmine lined lanes in the spring.
And no, I’m not going to wear it–but I’ve read quite a few romances that feature a mechanic who cleans up nice, and in my head they smell just like this.
* (Have you ever looked at the ingredients list on the can? There’s a hefty gob of vanillin in that silicone oil.)
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Sexy Grandma.
Normally I dislike the “old lady” ageist cliche of describing vintage perfume–but my grandmother actually wore this, and damn if she wasn’t the swimsuit model at the pool in her retirement home’s brochure.
And I’m going to be that guy too, and complain that ~ThEy DoN’t MaKe It LiKe ThEy UsEd To~ but the original was much sweeter, with big banging cloves at the top sweetened by peaches and plums, and a resinous dry-down held in place with charred wood.
The 2009 version still has the carnation and myrrh at the center, but her rockin’ bottom has grown a bit soft, droopy amber patchouli and vanilla with no verve, rather than rounded out with sandalwood, cinnamon and incense.
If you need a hit of classic eighties balsamic spice, grab a vintage bottle–and pair with a pussy-bow shirt belted over culottes.
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Opium came out in 1977, the same year Al Stewart’s Year of the Cat hit the charts.
Les Belles de Ricci Amour d’Amandier is those macarons I wish I hadn’t eaten at my great aunt’s funeral reception-
-the ones that tasted like stale almond paste to me, but everyone else thought were lovely, and didn’t she look so peaceful lying there?
Victorian herbalist chic? Yes, please!
Wisdom (TokyoMilk Dark #26) starts with a muddle of plant-stuff in a mortar and pestle, with some aquatics to make it soupy.
The earthy sweetness of the walnut listed on the label comes through fifteen minutes in, and sadly doesn’t linger long.
The base is nondescript woodsy musk.
All that adds up to forest lake, in an elusive dryad way, but to be honest, I got this one for looking at, not wearing.
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Another dark take on wisdom-
Vanillary smells like that $70 candle you scored for $6 at TJMaxx–a little chipped at the edges but still classy and delicious AF.
It’s a big cloud of ice cream cupcake, though a bit dirty, as if it had been picked up from the floor within the 5 second rule.
This song also came out in 2009. Smooth and sweet with some dirty bass–one of my all time favorites.
Nice green grapes at first bite, effervescent and tart, but then it suddenly turns into raisins…? Sickly sweet with awkward dusty spice.
Weird and disappointing.
Edit – 9/5/21
Sometimes I find old notebooks, snippets of things on scraps of paper, my first impressions of something distasteful or not interesting enough to write about–
Reading them later, I have to laugh at my ignorance, my arrogance, or my honesty–or the fact that I take a disappointing fragrance so personally…
But really, who wants to smell like raisins?!
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Royalty.
Lush’s Kerbside Violet is that totally kissable stranger on the subway platform who eats those weird purple mints from the newspaper kiosk.
There’s a blast of burning coal and then bruised wildflowers and finally ashy sweetness.
Makes me nostalgic for the city.
Any city, really.
This one by Bat For Lashes (also English) has a dreamy edgy vibe, too.
Wore this the entire week that one crazy midsummer.
Still makes me feel hungover.
Edit – 10/12/21
Anisia Bella doesn’t make me ill anymore–I can finally drink ouzo again, too–but it’s definitely a scent for high summer.
The anise and licorice are too spicy for spring, the basil and tea too herbal for autumn. The citrus kick at the top is a lovely summer lemon seltzer, and the drydown was biscotti in another lifetime.
Nice. Leans a bit more butch fade than Teazzurra‘s fringe bob.
For more accessible options, try any incantation of the original Lolita Lempicka, or 4711’s Blood Orange & Basil.
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I played this song a lot that summer.
kira a. gold 