(Happy Valentine’s Day to all those who participate. Love is cool, yeah?)
I absolutely bought this vintage beauty for the box, but the extrait inside is a walk through Borsari 1870’s magnificent flower garden.
Starts with jasmine, then moves to rose, next to lily-of-the-valley, then freesia, then violets, then narcissus, then, then, then–but each is separate and distinct, like a line of different soliflores–until we finally rest on a sandalwood bench.
All the flowers are are lovely–that’s Borsari’s thing, precise distinguishable florals–but what makes this so interesting is the timing of them all. Each bloom moves on to the next with no blurred edges, garden plots kept neatly bordered on a path. The progression is kind of a technical masterpiece–I can’t imagine the expertise that must have taken to orchestrate.
Starfruit & White Flowers is a lovely fruity floral, with crystalline green peachy-citrus notes, their sweetness carried deeper by the gardenia-neroli mashup. Pretty and linear, projects across the room for 10 minutes, then settles to the skin over the next half hour.
I’ve enjoyed most of the 4711 Acqua Colonia offerings, but this one is rather special–delicate, refreshing and cheerful, and even a bit sexy in a see-through summer evening sundress way– –but there’s also a crisp sugary vibe that works for daytimes in winter, too.
A deceptively simple blend of pretty and sexy. The jasmine on top is almost sugary, as if there’s a bit of grape Kool-aid wisteria mixed in. The amber gives it an edge, both clarifying it and making it sexy, like water splashing on a white shirt to make it see through. Lasts for days, with sweet woods on the clothes until a hot setting wash.
A small bottle is a safe blind-buy, though the large one is gorgeous.
I’m still feeling the loss of Thierry Mugler. His photography–that juxtaposed bright colors and played with architectural perspectives and environment–was amazing and ground breaking.
This beauty is much more likely to make everyone around her blush.
TokyoMilk #72 lists Magnolia, Honeysuckle, Jasmine Vine and Bourbon, and does them slow and sexy–understated creamy white florals take an hour to fully bloom in personal space, leaving long honey trails behind as they grow. Underneath, a few inches above the skin, a touch of charred whiskey barrel grounds the lushness of the flowers, keeping them earthy and seductive.
(The bourbon notes are well done–smoky oak caramel with a hit of vanilla spice–that stay dry and thankfully don’t turn into teenage praline on the bottom.) (Our queen finds getting carded tedious–no one would mistake her for an underage girl.)
Lasts only half the day–through afternoon on cuffs, and into the evening in the hair–but the opening comes in so easy, a later spray seems like a continuation rather than a refresh.
My favorite TokyoMilk out of the newest batch, and might be the best since Honey & the Moon. There’s an enticing maturity to it that I really appreciate, as if the cottage-core princess grew up and got provocative.
Love the way she grows up in this redo of Sting’s classic.
Nice at first– Starts with spiced whipped cream-y jasmine in personal space that slowly drifts to a hand-span off the wrist as the cardamom ripens–then it takes an odd turn as curried raw salmon for a few hours. The rose sticks to clothes more than skin, with sweet resins that last most of the day.
I’d enjoy it more without the fish course.
This song has absolutely nothing to do with the ocean and has no sushi.
This “Stormy Morning” dawns with lemony ginger and a lot of wet green notes that turn into an enjoyable petrichor–and stays dewy on the gardenia and jasmine all day.
Very sweet and very white, with the same mixed-message quality of pristine indolics inLa Chasse aux Papillons. Also similar to Reflection–a bit less grounded by the sandalwood–and about two-thirds the cost.
Pretty, but not terribly exciting–a good storm should have a bit of thunder and lightning, yeah?
On blind sniff I got the bergamot, and what I first thought was jasmine and apricot–but turned out to be tuberose and osmanthus–with sandalwood on the bottom. The rest was just a pleasant spicy amber fruit mush that I couldn’t deconstruct, like that purple hard candy that you wonder what flavor it’s supposed to be. Lasts a pretty day in personal space, finishing on vanilla ice milk musk.
Really nice, but other than an apropos slight hit of Chinatown, and the gorgeous bottle, kind of tame–
Queens NY is diversity and contemporary art, and Louis Armstrong and Rockaway beach, fusion street food, Houdini’s grave, Astoria, shopping for absolutely anything in Flushing, and crazy little museums about the oddest things–but it’s not tame.
(I remember walking under the El, before “Sunny Jamaica”–yeah, I’m old.)
Awkwafina is the best thing out of Queens right now. (NSFW with five-borough-language.)
Eve was finalist in the 2020 Art and Olfaction Awards in the artisan/independent category, and it’s aptly named, with enormous seductive apple trees growing out of a single drop.
Comes on strong and skanky at first, dirty jasmine that cleans up with roses as it settles down and turns to orchard blossoms. Then the whole tree fills the room, woody trunks, green leaves, and fruit. After a few hours, powder coats everything in personal space, for the whole day, with smudges of sweet char on the cuffs until laundry day.
The 35% concentration is way too indolic for me–I feel naked wearing it (which might be the point.) An eau de toilette would be less overwhelming.
Pleasant white flowers at first, not a lot of personality, but sweet–then after a few minutes the tuberose and the carnation pick up the spicy notes and turn more interesting. There’s a delicate watery feel under the florals–more morning garden dew than rainy lotus pond–that might come from the lily-of-the-valley and rhubarb; green, a little earthy. Some resinous stuff on the bottom gives texture and holds the gardenia in personal space the whole day long.
I get a maternal vibe, in a young expectant mother way–pretty, but not for me.