sweet

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Angel Eau Croisière

angel croiserie filterAirport duty-free testers are disgusting–those germs have survived tropics and tundras from all over the world–but this one was well worth the risk.

Angel “Cruise” opens loud and proud with delicious fresh mango that lasted the trudge to my gate and through fancy class pre-boarding–I was worried I would be THAT seatmate, who gives everyone in the row a headache with their perfume–but it settled nicely to a few inches off the wrist with pink grapefruit ice by the time I managed to cram my bag into the overhead compartment.
Somewhere over Iceland the sorbet gave way to Angel’s signature caramel patchouli, without the amber musk that I usually find cloying.
It was gone when we landed, and my connection too short to hit the shops for a bottle of my own.
Next trip, maybe.

Here’s some nice light jazz that’s actually wonderfully filthy.

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Quelques Fleurs

quelqes edgesThis is a forgotten gem of a scent–

Opens with sharp green herbs and a squeeze of citrus, then immediately blooms with lilac and honey. Projection for miles, yet the flowers change closer and closer to the skin:  lily of the valley, then rose, then violet.
Lasts forever, ending with the softest civet-y oakmoss and more honey.

A new favorite.

I’d never heard of it until I blind bid on a auction lot of vintage minis–then fell in love and did the research–it’s been around since 1913.

The tango was taking France by storm then, brought from Argentina. This is a modern one from the Parisian group Gotan Project.

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Forty Thieves

forty-thieves edgyOpens with incense and intrigue, and a sweet, spicy neroli rose that blooms a yard off the wrist.
Soon melts down to rich amber resin and sandalwood and lingers on the skin for an hour.

Lovely and mysterious, but I wish the honey notes lasted longer–and that price is not a steal.

This song effectively ended the eighties, and confused a hella lot of us about fashion, gender norms, and which ends of our cutoff jeans we were supposed to wear where.
Damn, I miss Prince.

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Une Amourette

roland edgySmoky neroli that dissipates into sweet iris, then completely disappears. An elegant one-hour-stand, but I don’t remember her name.

(Roland Mouret is a French fashion designer who is all the rage right now for his body celebrating dresses in all sizes.
I was hoping his perfume would somehow be more voluptuous.)

Amourette means “a fling.”

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Lost Cherry

lost cherry edge
Grainy pic of cerise Lost Cherry photo, decant vial and my reading glasses, which I lose at least once a day.

Well named–there’s absolutely nothing virginal about this stuff.

Maraschino stem teasing over a powder puff of musk, cyanide sweet foreplay for hours, ending in a melting dish of Ben&Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream.
Pure sex.

This song is also pure sex.

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MMMM…

mmmm edges huh
Grainy photo of sample vial on print of rose red with scrolly flowers bottle.

Artificial raspberries and vanilla in the most nostalgic way.

This is like getting pulled back in time, listening to Aerosmith while coloring a school poster with a Mr. Sketch scented marker–the fuchsia one.

We thought we were cool, drinking French vanilla powdered cappuccinos and sneaking sprays of our mother’s Hypnotic Poison before the dance.

Love this cover.

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Get A Room

get a room edges
Scentbird decant spray, and paper test cutout of Confessions of a Rebel cube bottle, on notepaper with scribbles--“Shiny, Lemon Pudding.”

Scentbird asked me for some write ups. This one was an extra in the samples they sent.

Get A Room glitters on the skin like cheekbone highlighter, and opens that bright, a juicy twist of citrus that immediately turns sweet and creamy and seductive, a kiss of lemon custard shared with a lover.

It soon brightens to fresh iced tea with sugar, a few inches off the skin, and stays there, dreamy and light, with a pinch of mysterious herbs and a flirt of vanilla all night long.

I want to spray my pillowcases with it.

*

Another dreamy one.

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Jimmy Choo Man

Gray rectangular mini bottle with silver cap on a motorcycle jacket and lavender sprigs.

Rather nice fruit-chuli, in a motorcycle pants and pineapple LifeSaver way.
The lavender lingers, but doesn’t turn to soap.

I have to wonder at that leather note, though. There’s a shoe salesman vibe that makes me conscious of my fallen arches and scuffed toes.

This one is a bit fruity and edgy at the same time. Also came out in 2014.

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Nuvol de Llimona

Nuvol de Limona edgesSo Nivol de Limona means “lemon cloud.” I don’t get fluffy, but it does change shape as it quickly passes by.

Starts with a squirt of Dawn dish detergent, takes an enjoyable but brief snack of milk and lemon Girl Scout sandwich cookies, then disappears with a wave of sugar scented hand lotion.

Here’s a sweet cloud by Tori that lasts longer.