Boozy pineapple fruit dipped in herbal honey, garnished with minty patchouli–but then some dank tobacco weirdly dirties up the sweetness.
It’s an odd mix, like Jimmy Choo Man put on silk argyle socks and Birkenstocks.
Maduro is an ode to a famous box of Cuban cigars from 1961. Despite Fidel Castro’s ban on rock music the same year, Los Zafiros were quite successful.
Citron d’Erable is exactly what Atelier Cologne says it is: lemon maple, with a sequoia base.
Opens with the brand’s signature burst of citrus: fresh sharp zest, with sweet custard underneath. Slowly settles to lemonade sweetened with maple syrup, which seems like a weird description, but it works in a lovely Vermont hippy way. Lasts a good half hour before fading into dry rich woods.
It’s very non-flirtatious and personal–wear in autumn on “me days.”
Macy Gray makes self indulgence necessary, rather than vanity.
TokyoMilk #11
I get dolls heads, when they break down and become sticky, flowery vanilla and non-dairy creamer.
There’s a naughty age-inappropriate edge to it–the nursery nanny in the push-up bra–but it doesn’t do more than flirt for a while.
Fun.
Chocolate covered mushrooms.
Tom Ford’s biggest is actually an olfactory pun on truffles!
The bottle is even textured like gills.
Opens sweet and dirty and loud, earthy cocoa and umami fungus that grows on your skin and your clothes and the walls of your dining room.
They slowly warp into wet white flowers and syrupy fruit, in a change of dinner courses that doesn’t take the old plates away, a trencher of watermelon garnished with petals and patchouli.
Afterwards vanilla beans, smoked like cigars.
Very sexy, in a you-make-me-hungry way, but don’t wear it if you’re dieting.
So many ‘shroomy covers of this song. I’m stuck on this awesome Arabic one right now.
Cloud pops open with herbs and artificial pears, then some sweet mushy stuff wiggles in the middle over a solid base note of woodsy chemical musk.
It’s got a hook–I keep going back to sniff the peelie–but it’s just too synthetic for me to want to purchase.
Kind of like a lot of Ariana’s songs, actually.
(Ugh. I’m old and crotchety. Girl can belt it, and I do like this one.)
Artsy bubblegum and I’m here for it.
The champagne and cardamom combination keeps it from being gooey, and the jasmine sweetens the sandalwood the perfect amount.
Sillage at arms length for an hour, and close to the skin for three more.
I wish I’d bought the big bottle.
Joan Jett is pretty remarkable.
Vintage rose from an antique reference set.
(Perfumeintelligence suggests this one was first formulated in Parma, Italy, in 1880.)
So how do you define what a rose smells like? This one does a pretty good job of it–
Opens with airy pastel buds, lemony with sugar in the tea, then ripens with earthy green leaves and bright fruity rosehip wine. The dry down is exactly that, dried petals–dusty, musky and spicy sweet with a hint of powdery cloves.
So top notes to bottom, a good illustration of rose that would hold its own against Perfume Workshop’s Tea Rose and Annick Goutal’s Rose Absolue–though it doesn’t quite have the luxe of Fort and Manle’s Harem Rose.
Everyone’s favorite pizza delivery tune, Funiculì, Funiculà, came out in Italy at the same time. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, so here’s some Sting.
Sweet and evil.
Lolita Lempicka Minuit Noir will always be my witching hour perfume–my house reeks of it on Halloween.
Sugar spells and dark iris magic, wicked candy licorice and violet patchouli brew.
It’s nicely powdery, keeping the juice intriguing–fey dust rather than cloying syrup.
Lasts all Samhain and charms sleeves for days after.
A boring nineties prom date.
Opens with sweet lime hand soap from the dispenser at P.F. Chang’s and a smooshed wrist corsage–a limp bundle of flowers that stays close to the skin and doesn’t go anywhere fun.
It’s kind of like Muzak–stringy with not enough base notes.
Here’s a cover of a classic that you won’t hear on an elevator.
For the girl who wants to fit in.
Fashion is stressful–she likes her school uniform. Daisy is mild-mannered and pleasant, and doesn’t bring attention to herself.
Strawberry ice cream and shy violets, some unassuming citrus and pale woody musk at the end.
I hung the solid pendant from my rear-view, and now my car smells rather nice, but also like I haven’t been driving long.
Colbie Caillat released this sweet little song out in 2007, the same year Marc Jacobs came out with Daisy.
kira a. gold 