A wealthy aunt perfume. She spends more on handbags than her nieblings pay for tuition, but she gives cool birthday gifts and is the first one they come out to.
Cut glass pears and white flowers, with a sprinkle of ground pepper. Ends on folding money musk and soft patchouli.
Not bad.
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Woke up with this stuck in my head this morning–it’s raining, too warm for December but I’m not complaining.
Such a fun surprise!
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this clever little multi-faceted cassis that shifts to vanilla leather and jasmine incense then powdery tonka musk and back again.
Bergamot makes for a fresh opening, with ylang-ylang and lily-of-the-valley keeping it sweet and licorice-ish for a good half hour. Then the florals get complicated and ever changing–a bit of suede from the marigold, rose tinged sandalwood, creamy orris dust–held to personal space for half the day by the black currant jam.
Unisex, cheerful, and very high end.
There’s a Guerlain vibe to the airy sweetness, yet the base is grounded with an earthy Chanel weight–and it’s all combined with a quirky hit of Lolita Lempicka gourmand.
I can’t help but love it.
Elsa Schiaparelli–a French designer who worked with surrealist artists Marcel Vertes and Salvador Dali–put this out in the 1940’s (though I’ve seen it cited 1937, too) as the bottom half to Shocking’s torso. It was re-released in the late nineties, and is apparently out of production, but unopened boxes are still available at reasonable prices.
I may have to get a big bottle.
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Zoologist’s newest is a surreal snorkeling jaunt that begins at the bottom of the reef with the weirdest lunch of buttered seaweed on rye toast, goes on to examine some herbal indolic anemones, then drifts ashore on pleasant low tide algae funk.
Seems a little gimmicky–a fun excursion, but I don’t want to smell like it.
Lasts minutes on skin, but like sand, is impossible to get out of clothes.
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This equally odd Sea Horse takes a trip through folk blues, new age, and Jim Morrison.
Wish is that loud-laughter bombshell at the holiday bash in a lurex dress and even cheaper lipstick, who gets sticky caramel everywhere and is the absolute life of the party.
Fruity vanilla, syrupy honey florals, and soft toffee woods, in a big fun mess with zero chill.
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Another awesomely messy holiday wish-
TokyoMilk #76 lists lemon balm (I might get this at the beginning, with some pine needles) amber, daphne and musk (which I don’t suss out at all.)
I mostly get sweet licorice, Lily-of-the-Valley, and a bit of earthy rubber, in a pleasant haze a few inches above the skin.
Off-beat, non-invasive, with very collectible packaging. Another on-brand issue from Margot Elena that would make a safe gift for anyone who would enjoy an herbal floral.
(For more of a sheer jewel vibe, check out any of Bvlgari’s Omnia line–Paraiba is very faceted.)
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This Jem sparkles from Wales-
Pears covered in silver leaf that slowly tarnishes to dull fog and rain–ripe and juicy but with a metallic edge, carried in intimate space with a misty wet musk.
Not bad in a moody winter-in-the-city way.
Perfect for that melancholy guy who never remembers an umbrella.
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Big spiced plum mulled in cloves all day long, with an undercurrent of sharp needle fir.
Tart fruit bites in as it warms, sweetened with candied orange peel, fun and inviting.
Performance drifts in and out on skin, but anchors really well on winter knits.
Way too much holiday spirit for me to wear, but I’d love my house to have this much cheer.
I’ll scent my solstice votives with the sample.
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More cheer.
Gotta luv White Elephant gift exchanges.
I traded fuzzy socks for this.
Safe for tweens–a tropical peony that fades to a drip of melted mango mochi on the school uniform–with a performance modest enough for the strictest parental approval.
My feet are sad.
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XOXO is an American fast fashion brand owned by the umbrella company Kellwood out of Hong Kong (that also owns Baby Phat and Rebecca Taylor.)
Another teenage XOXO–Canadian-Korean artist Jeon Somi put this album out this year.
Fruity at first, an hour long, and loud, citrus and plummy osmanthus sharpened with witchy rose thorns. Slowly softens with jasmine and some smoky-sweet amber into personal space–up close it’s bright on cotton cuffs and syrupy on the skin–and lasts all day, fading to a dab of luxe benzoin on the wrist.
La Belle et l’Ocelot could almost be a Chanel, rich incense resins and balsamic roses (though there’s oddly no civet) if the wormwood at the top didn’t turn it weird.
I don’t love it–I’d prefer more purring and fewer claws–but there’s something intriguing about it, opulent yet off-kilter, and the bottle is an objet d’art.
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Salvador Dali’s pet ocelot was named Babou. He never seemed happy in photos, aside from the one where he is biting the artist’s nose.
This would be a reasonably refreshing powdery Dude-Bro fragrance if the ball-peen hammer of musk didn’t hit the center of the forehead quite so hard.
Recommended for outdoor use only.
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This hammer is much better.
kira a. gold 