I get lime and cigarette tobacco–freshly lit.
Maybe baked apples with cloves, but possibly dried figs and sweet pepper, and a quick finish to what I can only call “expensive coat closet”–slight animal, cedar and rum.
The liquid bites at the skin a bit, and it doesn’t last long.
I could almost compare it to Tank Battle, with the spicy bubblegum notes, except this has more Y chromosome at the bottom.
I like it.
*
I love Leonard Cohen songs. Especially when sung by other people.
Roses in Vaseline.
Pretty bottle, though.
Edit – 10/10/21
Today I pulled this one out of the “meh” box–the bottles that never inspired more than a bit of snark, but didn’t quite deserve to perfume the trash bin–just to see if anything had changed.
The rose is still coated in an odd layer of petroleum jelly, perhaps the saffron at the top hitting the cypriol oil on the bottom, that sadly masks the caraway and jasmine sweetness.
I bought Mystique during my search for a signature rose scent. (I gave up on that rather quickly–turns out I’d rather have a whole rambling garden rather than singular perfection.)
Lancome has discontinued it, and bottles are hot commodities now.
At current prices, one could snag a big bottle of Amouage Epic Woman–a rich caraway rose, and a 50ml of Imaginary Authors’ saffron delight Slow Explosions.
Or get the Elizabeth & James Nirvana Rose vetiver power suit for about $20.
*
Keep an ear out for Saffron Collins, a talented teen from Dubai.
A loud catcall of fantastic peach nectar, with a pinch on the ass of cloves.
Later she steals a flower from a neighbor’s garden to tuck in her hair, on the way to buy sweet Meyer lemons and flirt with the fruit vendor in the square.
Fresh and brash and juicy.
Peach was my favorite ice cream flavor at Baskin-Robbins.
This was my first lesson in flankers. I’d mistakenly bought it thinking it was a back-up bottle for my LL Midnight Sun.
LL Stardust Midnight is sharper and sweeter, closer to the original Lolita.
It opens with bright hot anise and settles down to licorice candy and sugared violets, then lingers on skin and clothes and sheets with an effervescent vanilla.
*
A darker Lolita:
This is amazing.
Opens up with glorious daddy issues of pipe tobacco and bourbon, then dresses in a chocolate velvet vest with a watch chain and takes me out to the lesbian billiards bar.
I drink vanilla shots until I’m cut off for spilling one and we go home to empty cabinets except for that fruitcake I re-gifted and got back two years later.
It’s delicious. Best date ever.
Filthiest song ever.
My cat just peed on the carpet.
No, that’s not what Civet smells like–it’s actually quite lovely. Leather and citrus and peppery carnations, smoke and it’s so lush.
But when I dabbed it on my wrist my cat freaked out, frantically pawed at my sleeve and then took a stress squirt on the rug.
Never have I felt so sexy doing laundry.
ETA:
Carpet is clean, cat is sleeping, perfume calmed down to sweet black coffee on the skin.
This Rolling Stones cover was the B-side of Jesus Christ Pose. (Best played loud.)
Fully loaded Bazooka Joe.
This stuff is like the sexy battle armor you put on before conquering your own world.
Tank Battle opens with a wet bubblegum pop, and a moment later a bright sulfur flare. Smoky haze sits at arms length–a burnt spice offering, a swallow of bourbon, metal shavings from a sharpened blade.
Sun-scorched patchouli and cloves settle to the skin after an hour, with an occasional whiff of daring and sweetness the whole day long.
The Seatbelts’ Tank! (the opener for Cowboy Bebop) is a lot of fun.
A stray cat in heat reeking of orange and cloves.
Tabu was that night you wore thigh-high stockings but forgot your fake ID, so someone’s older sister gave you rootbeer schnapps and after the party you watched the sunrise drinking Constant Comment tea with the guy your friend wanted.
I wore this once in high school and the boy who never noticed me asked my name, and the skirt I’d worn all year got measured with a ruler twice. My mother took the bottle away and told me I could have it back when I went to college.
*
Tabu came out in 1933, designed to be “the fragrance of a whore.” Jazz was taking Paris by storm then, led by Django Reinhard at the Hot Club.
Here’s Gretchen Menn’s take on Minor Swing.
The bottle lists Clean Coral, Mineral Salt, Watercress, and Crushed Citrus, because why not be fancy? but it’s really filled with loud dish soap.
Edit – 1/29/2023
Yeah, the tide of suds settles down after half an hour and gives way to an almost plummy spice under salty aquatics, but it doesn’t make any beach waves.
I should probably get this to someone who might enjoy wearing it, rather than spraying it in my sink so my drain smells nice.
*
A much better Ocean.
(I swear I don’t have daddy issues.)
Edit – 2/9/2023
I still wear this when I take myself out to the movies.
Opens with a bag of black licorice Twizzlers and a Coke with the good ice–casual and sweet, like Minuit Noir but in jeans and t-shirt–and stays politely at the edge of personal space for a long matinee. Lingers with unassuming wood through the evening, and ends with a jubilant spin-out of tires à la Bvlgari Black.
Hard to find, but worth every penny, even if one is usually a cheap date.
*
kira a. gold 