white floral

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Chloé

Mini iconic curvy bottle with translucent troll horn stopper, casting gold shadows.

Chloé is pure fun sunshine, from beach wear and flip-flops to glamorous midsummer weddings.

Aldehyde fresh, citrus spiked peach punch, garnished with tropical flowers for an hour at the beginning, that warms up with spicy carnations and white flowers, heavy on sweet tuberose. Dry woods at the bottom anchor it at arms length for the day and to clothes for the night.

I love the ’70’s intrigue movie vibe to it, sea-kissed Jacqueline Bisset from The Deep, Gloria Hendry in the patchwork bikini in Live and Let Die.

Luckily, it’s easy to find a vintage bottle, and it seems to keep well–though current pop culture makes the bottle top look less like calla lilies than Shrek ears.

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The best Bond song ever:

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Tuberose Flash

Tauerville black and white label bottle, casting prism shadows. I wish this one came in larger amounts–I’d buy it by the quart.

Tank Battle’s older sibling who drinks too much and swears a lot, and I’m obsessed.

A shot of benzoin bourbon out of the bottle and a heavy draw of labdanum smoke, and then slides easy into creamy tuberose. Sweet and lazy, it lingers close for the evening, a faint breath of patchouli keeping it just a little dirty.

Sexy as hell.

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The opening of this is fun–I love when musicians tune onstage.

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Ubar

Amouage mini bottle in gold ombre rising to clear, balanced on three clementines.

Elemental flowers in a sacred orange grove.

A burst of citrus, juicy unfiltered pulp and zest everywhere, then huge jasmine and ylang-ylang grow, so heavy and heady that they’re animalic and grubby underneath–except there’s enough lily-of-the-valley green suds hidden inside that everything fluctuates between dirty and clean, indolics vs. aldehydes, flora to fauna.
Metallic amber and earthy sandalwood try to give some support, but they’re overtaken by the chaotic florals that rise to outer space and last all night long.

Brilliant, but too much for me–Ubar’s flowers would swallow me whole and spit out my bones like tangerine seeds.

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An enormous song taken down to natural elements.

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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.

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Citrine

citrine
Row of Nest mini bottles, Citrine–with label showing yellow flowers on black–in front.

This 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 a layer of 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 takes risks–and the song is great.

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Magnolia

magnolia edges
Micro Borsari 1870 bottle with Scandinavian folk-art graphic, and blue bow.

Vintage 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!

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Florence

Florence edgy
A line of gold capped rollerball bottles with Rococo motif labels–Florence in olive green.

A 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.

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Diorella

diorella
Micro bottle of Diorella with a smaller circumference than the penny it’s perching on, and Dior’s iconic hounds-tooth pattern packaging.

The 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.