Sweet smoke, and pine trees. Soft and resinous on the skin, sharper and greener on cotton cuffs.
There’s a hint of something dangerous lurking underneath, that takes the incense out of the headshop and into darker, more niche territory–the moist forest floor threatened by distant fires, the spilled tea leaving ominous stains.
Very unisex and a bit sexy. Lasts a good two hours a foot off the wrist, then rests on the skin for two more. I really like it.
I love the opening–green citrus with good rasp of nutmeg, and a nice hit of pot funk–but in 15 minutes Hierba Nera (Black Grass) slides into smoky amber resins with lazy projection. The base notes of miscellaneous wood musks last half the day on the skin, with no residue on cotton.
Leans to the oak-y end of unisex.
If the top notes took center stage, I’d be all up in a bottle–the art-house basement party vibe is delightful–but the high doesn’t last long enough to warrant the cost.
The first spray is a sanitizing citrus that fades to weird artificial fantasy flowers–they feel a bit Tim Burton-ish, like they might eat your brains with slurping noises. The dry drown is very cool, a woodsy musk that does a chilly freshwater slow dive that lasts for hours and hours.
Masculine, in a modern knight errant on a trippy quest way, but a Lady-of-the-Lake could pull it off, too.
Tim Burton directed this cute video for the Killers.
The ad copy says “smooth creamy warming” but I get “edge of the forest hermit.”
The first spray is a burst of sour citrus and vegetables with herbs, in a messy sun-drenched garden way, then everything gets spicy, woody cloves and earthy peppercorns for an hour on the skin. The end is a slow fade of soft with smoky firewood that’s still a bit too green to burn.
I’d really enjoy this on a guy, which is funny, because the guy said he’d enjoy it on me.
Down Under barbershop bloke. Zoologist went for environment rather than animalics on this one, though apparently koalas do smell like cough drops.
Opens with a big bar of masculine eucalyptus soap, and rinses down to herbal spice and vanilla mint. Within half an hour there’s a splash of smoky tea that I wish stayed longer, then it dries down to soft wood musk on the skin.
I like him, even if he’s not giving out Vegemite sammies.
I’m old enough to remember when this first came out on the radio.
L’Air des Alpes Suisses is chilly and gorgeous, and stays that way. The ambergris is a gust of cold wind carrying snow and pine, with a weirdly enjoyable sweet whiff of gasoline–and it echoes. The camphor in the woods somehow resonates, the way a struck bell vibrates the air in the room, with a slow two hour fade to the skin.
The linear sound wave quality is very cool, a good example of synesthesia in perfumery, though I keep wondering if it will resolve at the end. (Is there a tease of warmth and chocolate in there, or is that my own wishful thinking?)
I like it very much, but I bet it’s a completely different scent in August.
An electro-pop dance hit out of Zurich that’s oddly soothing, with a gorgeous little video.
Dolly Parton’s new perfume is a trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee in a bottle.
Opens with the strawberries-and-cream saltwater taffy from Old Smoky Candy Kitchen–soft fruity pink and gooey sweet–and lasts as long as one takes to melt in the mouth. The middle is pure Dollywood, rhinestone musk and jasmine encore bouquets, synthetic but charming, though nowhere near as loud. Finishes with a lingering view of the mountains, green forest woods and a hint of pine.
Oddly, Dolly is a bit shy, staying in personal space and fading quickly to the skin. I’d expect this brief a performance from a cologne, not a celebrity eau de parfum, but her short songs are good, too.
This remix takes Dolly out of the mountains and into the club, with Junior Vasquez mixing Ladysmith Black Mambazo into the beats to raise the sun.
I love a good pun. These Purple Lips open with juicy blueberries that would stain the teeth, and linger on violet and lilac flower candy that dye the tongue. Sheer woody musk on bottom keeps it in personal space for half the day.
But one could easily find this scent–though maybe not as cool a bottle–in a fast fashion chain for teens. I want more from the house of Salvador Dali. Give me chessboards on the ocean floor. Give me ship sails made of butterflies.