The citrus opens too tart–soured by the sandalwood, maybe–but then berries and a bit of spice get stirred in, sweetened with floral syrup. The moody violet/cassis finish on the skin is nice, after the first disappointing hour–the start seems like something you’d taste in the dairy aisle at the happy-hippy food co-op, rather than a fragrance.
Soft solid that goes on with sugared grapefruit and sinks into the skin with lovely green forest woods. The cedar pushes it to the masculine end of unisex, but the musk at the end is sweet. Lasts a good three hours an inch off the hands.
Comforting and friendly. A great one to give as a gift.
Cardamom bombs the opening, the same throat closing assault when entering any truck stop store outside Paris, Appalachia–menthol cigarette ash and candy bars–but then it slowly melts into the skin with tobacco and vanilla a la Tom Ford.
Not many people realize Tom Waits actually wrote this one–also harsh and mellow.
(I’m falling in love with these solid perfumes. Airplane friendly and moisturizing!)
Zazou–surprisingly, given the twee packaging–is a sophisticated little neroli limeade spiked with aqvavit.
It opens fresh, a zing of citrus as it warms up on the skin, then relaxes and turns floral with an herbal undercurrent.
Sits just above the skin for hours until sinking under into warm green woods.
The Zazou subculture in France most likely took their name from Cab Calloway’s scat riff “Zaz, zuh, zah!”
This one was disappointing–the performance is just so bad–and the canister has sat on a shelf for three years. I don’t know anyone in the 5-8 year old range (old enough not to lick it, but young enough to pretend it has any scent) who might enjoy playing dress-up.
This evening I scooped out the solid with a butter-knife (it has the consistency of ChapStick) and smushed it all into a tealight. After 90 minutes of burning, my hallway lav smells nicely of sweet, slightly scorched peaches. I’ve paid more for lesser candles, so no complaints.