0:01 – Chamomile tea and loud mushrooms. (The cat is deeply offended.) 0:05 – A bit of fruit and honey, then spiced coffee, with testicles. Up close, in my personal space. And they need a wash. (I’m offended too.) 0:15 – The boys get a nice shower, with lavender. 0:20 – Unoffensive berries. (Not a euphemism.) 0:30 – Haaay! Greens. Grassy greens, in the sun. 1:00 – Berries again, grapefruit sour, black currant bite. Nice. 2:00 – Oakmoss and resins 6″ above the skin. 4:00 – A smudge of herbal teabag dregs on cuffs.
Edit – 3/3/23
Aside from the dirty ball sack stage, this is a reasonable fragrance.
This designer made Bat, too, which has a lot of the same measured storytelling progression. The mushrooms are odd–Tom Ford does them better in Black Orchid–but they’re brief, and kind of fun. I like the acai berry very much, but it’s not my cuppa.
Di Da Jow is a lovely sweet camphorous mash of ginseng, spices, and herbs, meant to be used as topical pain relief. When I was little, I’d sneak drops on my cuffs to sniff at all day. I’m sure my parents knew, from the smell, but they never said anything.
Between the opening and the weird sweaty bit that comes across as screechy metal, somewhere inside the floral powder, are a few moments of smoke. That’s kind of demented, honestly.
Olivia Newton-John died yesterday. (Breast cancer sucks.) She was amazing.
Like the perfume, this song starts marvelously, and ends with some odd squeaky notes.
Zoologist’s newest is a surreal snorkeling jaunt that begins at the bottom of the reef with the weirdest lunch of buttered seaweed on rye toast, goes on to examine some herbal indolic anemones, then drifts ashore on pleasant low tide algae funk.
Seems a little gimmicky–a fun excursion, but I don’t want to smell like it. Lasts minutes on skin, but like sand, is impossible to get out of clothes.
This equally odd Sea Horse takes a trip through folk blues, new age, and Jim Morrison.
So the Zoologists cleaned the monkey cages with lemon scented Clorox. Now the bleach musk augments the animalics for an uncomfortable hour before fading into resinous pine trees, but I appreciate the removal of the rotten fruit from the original Macaque.
Dries down to long-lasting Mtn Dew and turpentine that’s sweeter on cotton than skin. Better, but still not the most fun exhibit at the Zoo.
StellaCorvo (sounds better the Italian) and Cris Pinzauti–who does lots of neat looped stuff–on Peter Gabriel’s classic.
Opens with a squirt of alcoholic citrus that is overtaken by green cardamom, then turns creamy. (The chamomile and benzoin, maybe? It’s quite nice.) Acorns and leaves slowly fall to the skin, sharp oak but earthy, sweetened with hazelnuts and herbs. At the very bottom is more woods and some gorgeous balsamic resins, but they’re cooled with patchouli, a hint of winter coming.
Brilliant for autumn. I’d enjoy it more as an ice cream or a tea, rather than wearing it–I’d be constantly worried that I’d managed to overturn someone’s fall spice latte on my clothes–but Chipmunk would be perfect for anyone looking for a heartier nutty gourmand than the usual marzipans.
Opens with loud fecal spice, like something large and furry shat cardamom pods in your personal space. Just as your eyes start to water in protest, the cedar tamps down the fumes with some nice florals, and then the softest powdery musk takes over. The orris root makes this brilliant–not like Lolita Lempicka’s pulverized violet candy–more fae monarchy walking in the forest, raising sugary pollen that glitters in the sun.
The base woods stay sweet on the on the skin for half the day, with the musk trailing a foot above.
Unisex. Leans delicate, after the feral beginning.
Opens with mild fruits and green violet leaf, sweetly pleasant in personal space, but five minutes later becomes a mush of flowers and spice and odd salt and enough pink pepper to be a bit headache inducing. Coconut and vanilla woods settle to the skin after an hour or two, with no residue on clothes.
I wanted more. Zoologist is usually polarizing, love-or-hate animalics with strong reactions. Chameleon is a bit too boring to represent a color changing lizard with a tongue twice the length of its body and eyes that move independently.
(I adore The Voice blind auditions.) This is a haunting cover–Boy George did not even recognize his own song at first.