The Downsides of Smell-Gud
I've posted about perfume before, so I suppose a few of you are getting tired of the subject. In fact, I haven't posted on the subject in a while because I haven't had the blunt --even three dollars for small vials is a great deal of money when you're not pulling regular paychecks.
But over the last few weeks I finally broke down in a big way and hit my favorite perfumery, The Perfumed Court.
I had bought a number of samples back in January, planning to try each and report back --I certainly tried each one, but never got around to posting the results, or not in any major detail. Since then, however, I've begun to pad my fragrance library --and it will be a library, because I've begun to realize that I definitely have a favorite perfume --one for every occasion!
So without further dithering, my favorites by occasion.
My newest discovery is L'Artisan's Passage d'Enfer --another of these incense-based scents, but this one's quite swept my heart.
The thing about Passage d'Enfer is that it is romantic. Subtly so, a throaty sharp sort of skin scent that you have to come close to catch: in a few words, it is the most perfect date scent that I can imagine. Smoky is not the right word here, whatever the reviewers may say --there is that acrid, back of the throat tingle that I will always associate with campfires, but the scent itself is surprisingly lean and lush, with a note of sheer feminine floral that just delight my spirit: I am a very secret girl, and Passage d'Enfer mediates between the eccentric and the assertive and the sensual effortlessly.
I also recently ordered a full bottle of Avignon, making it the first full bottle of perfume I've ever bought myself. I can't think of a better scent to start with: it is, of course, one of the immortal Incense series, by Comme des Garcons: the first, in fact, and most of the reviewers agree that it smells exactly like a Catholic High Mass. I find it an assertive, resiny, almost granular perfume, and it reminds me of a fistful of incense I once bought at a Renaissance Faire. Why a full bottle? Nothing puts me in so studious a mood. It's as though it brings out my inner hierophant.
Mitsouko is still too dear for me --at least in the EDP, and when I tried the EDT I found myself wrinkling my nose to pick out what was awry: the perfume simply lacked skank.
Skank is an interesting note --not that they call it that, in the packaging, but it crops up numerous scents. Simply defined, skank is a whisper of what's to come once you've had the scent on for a few hours in the club, have sweated in it and drunk in it and your chemistry's taken the molecules on. It's not at all bad --in fact, I treasure the note, done well. It's like buying second hand jeans. You pull them on and they're a little worn --loose and tight in all the right spots, the fabric simply ready for you. Skank works the same way. The scent's a little broken down, a little rank, a little animalistic --and more attractive for it. Mitsouko has this quality in the EDP; in the EDT, it's more herbal, pinched in the nose and with hints of that famous peach heart, but neither as warm or as supple as the EDP.
Unsurprisingly, I find myself treating Mitsouko like the red power suit of my perfume closet: it is an instant confidence booster and even a reassurance when I'm nerve-wracked. But it's a demanding scent, definitely not something I could wear to lounge around the house or head out for a jog: Mitsouko belongs with tailored jackets and crisp shirting, business-like pumps.
Mitsouko also makes for an ambiguous date scent. As much as I love the perfume, I suspect most potential dates would not share my opinion; chypre is a vintage note and it's not one that has really survived the shift in attitudes toward men's cologne. These days you're more likely to find coconut and mango and lavender in a fellow's spray than you are to find a chypre, and even women are slowly giving up on the stuff, as workplaces crack down on perfume-wearing.
More perhaps later.
But over the last few weeks I finally broke down in a big way and hit my favorite perfumery, The Perfumed Court.
I had bought a number of samples back in January, planning to try each and report back --I certainly tried each one, but never got around to posting the results, or not in any major detail. Since then, however, I've begun to pad my fragrance library --and it will be a library, because I've begun to realize that I definitely have a favorite perfume --one for every occasion!
So without further dithering, my favorites by occasion.
My newest discovery is L'Artisan's Passage d'Enfer --another of these incense-based scents, but this one's quite swept my heart.
The thing about Passage d'Enfer is that it is romantic. Subtly so, a throaty sharp sort of skin scent that you have to come close to catch: in a few words, it is the most perfect date scent that I can imagine. Smoky is not the right word here, whatever the reviewers may say --there is that acrid, back of the throat tingle that I will always associate with campfires, but the scent itself is surprisingly lean and lush, with a note of sheer feminine floral that just delight my spirit: I am a very secret girl, and Passage d'Enfer mediates between the eccentric and the assertive and the sensual effortlessly.
I also recently ordered a full bottle of Avignon, making it the first full bottle of perfume I've ever bought myself. I can't think of a better scent to start with: it is, of course, one of the immortal Incense series, by Comme des Garcons: the first, in fact, and most of the reviewers agree that it smells exactly like a Catholic High Mass. I find it an assertive, resiny, almost granular perfume, and it reminds me of a fistful of incense I once bought at a Renaissance Faire. Why a full bottle? Nothing puts me in so studious a mood. It's as though it brings out my inner hierophant.
Mitsouko is still too dear for me --at least in the EDP, and when I tried the EDT I found myself wrinkling my nose to pick out what was awry: the perfume simply lacked skank.
Skank is an interesting note --not that they call it that, in the packaging, but it crops up numerous scents. Simply defined, skank is a whisper of what's to come once you've had the scent on for a few hours in the club, have sweated in it and drunk in it and your chemistry's taken the molecules on. It's not at all bad --in fact, I treasure the note, done well. It's like buying second hand jeans. You pull them on and they're a little worn --loose and tight in all the right spots, the fabric simply ready for you. Skank works the same way. The scent's a little broken down, a little rank, a little animalistic --and more attractive for it. Mitsouko has this quality in the EDP; in the EDT, it's more herbal, pinched in the nose and with hints of that famous peach heart, but neither as warm or as supple as the EDP.
Unsurprisingly, I find myself treating Mitsouko like the red power suit of my perfume closet: it is an instant confidence booster and even a reassurance when I'm nerve-wracked. But it's a demanding scent, definitely not something I could wear to lounge around the house or head out for a jog: Mitsouko belongs with tailored jackets and crisp shirting, business-like pumps.
Mitsouko also makes for an ambiguous date scent. As much as I love the perfume, I suspect most potential dates would not share my opinion; chypre is a vintage note and it's not one that has really survived the shift in attitudes toward men's cologne. These days you're more likely to find coconut and mango and lavender in a fellow's spray than you are to find a chypre, and even women are slowly giving up on the stuff, as workplaces crack down on perfume-wearing.
More perhaps later.