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.

Acqua di Mughetti

Acqua di Mughetti edgyPure Lily-of-the-Valley, first released in 1920.

The first notes are clean lemony florals, then the tune centers on delicate sweet white flowers with a creme fraiche texture.
Settles into gentle soap aldehydes at the end.

This might be a soliflore, but I get a tiny hit of orange blossom that curbs the usual green edge under the lily bells.
Lasts a pretty two hours close to the skin.


Another Lily-of-the-Vally.

Charlatan

charlatan edgyFlowery jasmine pear for a few moments.
(I don’t get the chocolate.)
Rose and something minty that turns pleasantly bubblegummy for a while.
(Maybe there’s some chocolate in a peppermint chip ice cream way?)
Later a bit of sandalwood and amber tinged vanilla that WANTS to be chocolate–
(I probably shouldn’t test scents when I’m hungry.)

Yummy, but this one feels like a scent for a birthday party, rather than a person.


Best party song ever.

Pleasures

pleasuresLovely rosy cranberries, fresh and juicy at first hello.
Then it gets brilliant with an unusual spicy-sweet, warm floral–
Karo-karounde is an African bush related to coffee, with rich blooms said by the Perfume Society to smell like jasmine and chocolate. L’Artisan Parfumeur features it at the heart of Timbuktu.
–I get a lot of pink pepper and curry-plant from it, maybe even nutmeg.

The guy says it smells like cilantro.
I think he’s catching the green edge of the lily-of-the-valley, and maybe some of the sandalwood at the base.

Doesn’t project as much as the other Estee Lauder foghorns I’ve tried. Misty florals stay within personal space, with sweet spicy roses on the skin, for most of the day.


Pleasures came out in 1995, and Joan Osborne released One of Us. Prince covered it best.