Beautiful

BeautifulA bottle of Bridezilla, with a cathedral length train.

She comes in on full pipe organ, fruity sweet floral honey for the first half hour, then the nectar turns to a cascade of petals: carnations and roses, lilac and mimosa.
Spills blooms through the reception and the dancing, and ends in sweet vanilla sandalwood and musk, trailing Just Married signs–
–and wasn’t her dress just beautiful?


A another good first dance song that came out the same year.

Citrine

citrineThis is lemon Italian ice, sold from a cheery street vendor in August.

Sugary citrus blooms, loud, with a wet floral that is supposed to be lotus, but seems more like yellow roses, with synthetic papery wooden notes underneath.

Citrine is sweet but safe, polite sillage that doesn’t overstay its welcome, no risks, no glory.
It needs layering with musk, or even a bite of something animalic to make it shine.


Bono channeling his inner Elton-Bowie-Elvis is amazing. Whether you grin or groan, you have to admit he took risks–and the music is great.

Magnolia

magnolia edgesVintage bottle from the La Collezione Borsari 1870.

There’s a fresh lemony zest to magnolia, a little more creamy/waxy than roses, spring rather than summer. I can find it in the middle of L’Instant de Guerlain, and at the opening of J’adore.

This baby sings in big white full bloom, with an oddly pleasant sour civet and traces of vetiver holding it in place–what research I found indicates it was released in 1970, and those were trendy bases then.
Lasts for decades, in a marvelous retro way.


The Muddy Magnolias are amazing!

Florence

Florence edgyA bite of bergamot and green apples, then huge gardenias, the kind my grandmother used to grow, big waxy white flowers with shiny green leaves that took over her living room.
Florence grows that big–one roll on the wrist and it’s all through the house.

I like it better after an hour, when it settles down to light woodsy musk on the skin.


Florence, of course.

Diorella

diorellaThe shy little sister of Diorissimo.

Opens with an Earl Grey tea splash that gets lost in a huge green not-quite-blooming-yet flower garden–a bit of jasmine and blushing rosebuds–for an hour.
Big starchy oakmoss dries up the bottom a foot off the skin and stays there most of the day.

It’s nice, but doesn’t say much.


This oddball song was a huge hit in France in 1972, the same year Diorella came out.