Smelliness I Actually Enjoy!

My brother-in-law is one classy guy. He's a fancy-shmancy magazine editor, and travels all over the world on a constant basis, and loves my sister very much and takes care of her every need and wish and desire. And when he found out that I was going to be alone on Christmas, he insisted that I come spend the day with them, even though (a) his very-high-maintenance mother was visiting for a week and (b) I would be arriving at 2 a.m.

He and my sister then proceeded to shower me with more books than I could carry (they're both editors -- they get sent ten advance copies of things every day, and will never actually read all that stuff), plus she gave me some yarn and he gave me a gorgeous bottle of Jo Malone perfume.

Now, I am an unscented gal, for the most part. You probably know this about me. And I never buy perfume for myself because I have never been one to have money lying around for those little luxuries (when I do, I try to pay a little extra on my student loans). I've found precisely two perfumes in my entire life that I could tolerate. One was Cover Girl's Navy, and I was about ten years old, and I held my little sample vial of Navy very dear because my mother forbid me to wear perfume at such a young age (I recently found the vial while I was cleaning out my bathroom drawer in my parents' house last month -- it was fully evaporated, and I was sad). The other perfume I have ever really liked is Bare Escentuals' now-discontinued-in-spray-form Perfect Black Dress, which my sister gave me a few years ago and I rarely wear, but I did bond with another woman who eventually introduced me to my husband, because we both love Perfect Black Dress. I occasionally try Givenchy's Very Irresistible (also a gift from my sister) because I really do like the scent, but it always ends up being overpowering -- I get overwhelmed in the car driving to whatever event we're attending, and my husband hates it and gets angry that I smell different, so I just don't wear it very much.

Back to Christmas... I unwrapped this present from my brother-in-law, saw that it was a very generously-sized bottle of expensive perfume -- and perfume is such a personal gift, you really have to know your recipient's tastes like you know your own -- and was both overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness and a little bit apprehensive about having to wear a scent I might not like. I sprayed a little on my wrist right there under the Christmas tree... and to my surprise and delight, I love love love this scent. And through the whole day, I continued to love it. (Even better, my husband likes it too: he mostly doesn't notice it, which is just as good considering that he doesn't like anything that makes me smell not-like-me, but when I asked him directly, he said that yes, he doesn't hate it.)

The scent is Jo Malone's White Jasmine and Mint, which the website claims is a "light green floral" fragrance. I've always tried to steer away from florals because they tend to be too cloying to my nose. Not that I wear much perfume, like I said, but I think of myself as a person who likes the spicy spectrum of scents (and maybe a bit of citrus in the morning, but not if it's going to last later into the day). The White Jasmine and Mint has floral notes, obviously, but has woody and spicy notes as well (coriander and cardamom on top, cedar wood and vetiver underneath). And the mint is so subtle as to be almost unrecognizable at first sniff. I looked at the label after I spritzed it on and thought "really? there's mint in here?" But it becomes apparent -- in a really good, not overpowering way -- after a few seconds. And be sure to Discover the Story of this fragrance, because this is one "sensorial journey" definitely worth discovering!

This stuff is expensive. I would never buy it for myself, but I do so love having such a beautiful bottle sitting on my shelf, and I love wearing it. (Last Friday I wore it to a work dinner and I kept trying to smell my wrists -- through my gloves -- while driving. Not safe! But Mmmm! I smelled good! And it's great for daytime wear, too; I felt so grown-up and professional wearing it to work this week.) And if I ever come across another free sample vial, I will hoard it like the ten-year-old I used to be, in preparation for the day that I use up the giant bottle sitting in my bathroom cabinet.

Why hate perfume?

I first heard of CB I Hate Perfume through a friend about a year ago and was intrigued right from the start.

CB's angle on fragrance is that so many people do it wrong, why not do it right? "Right" in his book means perfume that is an artisanal product, carefully blended, subtle and powerful instead of brash and overwhelming, stylish and eccentric. The rather clunky name of CB I Hate Perfume is explained in the perfumer's manifesto.

The names and descriptions of the unconventional scents made my ears water and were music to my mouth. "Under the Arbor"? Yes please, in Tuscany, please! And "In the Summer Kitchen"? Just let me slip into my sundress! "Russian Caravan Tea"? Oh, Большое спасибо! Finally, I followed my Francophile heart and bought "Mr. Hulot's Holiday" online.

The next week, I was immediately a little disappointed upon opening the package. Inside was a sort of flimsy cardboard tube containing a squat little chemistry class bottle. I was silly to be disappointed, since Luckyscent clearly displays what you're going to get. CB says that he believes perfume shouldn't be about packaging, but for me, design is as much a spice of life as scent. Even rougher, more artisanal would have been great; slicker and more commercial would have worked, too. But to my taste, CB's design was an unhappy medium between the two.

When I applied the perfume, I was shocked and even more disappointed. My immediate reaction was, "God. Damn. This smells like one of those bright blue scented candles called 'Air' or 'Ocean Fresh' that you see at the supermarket!" Over the next 20 minutes, I calmed down a bit as the scent matured and became slightly more nuanced. It never got as complex as I had wanted it to. I never could manage to smell the "driftwood, seaweed-covered rocks, well-traveled leather suitcases and salty Mediterranean breeze" promised to me in the description. After wearing it a few times and feeling bitter about the $55 I had squandered, I got rid of it. (In fact, I confess that I regifted it to a friend of a friend! Bad form, Natasha!)

I am for sure one of those over-read, hiply-square girls. One of those young women who appreciates oddballs and rejoices in individuality, to the point that she has a bit of trouble reminding herself that individuality can be just as much of a selling point as conformity, and being "indie" is...well...pretty mainstream. One of those young women who, I am positive, make up a huge percentage of CB's clientele. But I don't think I'll fall for the flowery prose and the "feeling unique" again. Fragrance is poetry, to be sure, but poetry is not fragrance.

I'm going to stick the the world of perfumes as they are: some outrageously bad, some screamingly good. CB's attitude reminds me too much of a pretentious media artist I once knew who claimed there were only two coffee shops to get decent espresso in the United States. When I want a more unusual fragrance, I'll head to Demeter, the company CB used to work for. There I can get my dandelions, musty libraries and grape leaves on for a much more affordable price.

Besides: I kind of welcome the occasional obnoxious perfume. When I was 22, I wore Anna Sui's eau de toilette, a scent I think of now as truly horrible, way too stickily sweet. But I love catching a whiff of it to this day because I think of dumb, young me in my skivvies, holding my then boyfriend on his too-small bed.

If you want to give CB I Hate Perfume a try, then sample, sample, sample. Reviews on Luckyscent and several other websites will show you how divided people are about this line. Make sure you take your own word for it by sampling at the CB I Hate Perfume studio in Brooklyn or through the website.

I smell yummy

I was so excited this winter when Lush introduced its winter-limited-edition Champagne Snow Showers in a solid perfume. I love the scent-- mimosas and bitter cold mornings under a brilliant blue sky, Sunday afternoon snowball fights and something pretty sparkly...

But, I have a fear of solid perfume. Long ago, I read in my teenage bible of all girly things, Seventeen, to beware of perfume you have to apply with your finger because the smell tends to linger there.

Well, the smell doesn't linger on my finger, and I love it...

But... it doesn't linger on my finger, but it doesn't linger long, period. By mid-afternoon it's pretty much crapped out, which means it's time to reapply, except I can't be bothered to carry my perfume with me, so I just smell boring and normal for the rest of day.

Fragrance Rx

A million years ago, intrepid reader poetloverrebelspy left a comment for a post wherein I gifted myself some Lanvin perfume. She wondered aloud what perfume I thought she might like. "How fun!" I thought to myself. "Like an advice column with no real problems to solve...a doctor without a sickness to treat...A matchmaker with no heartbreak!"

So I asked her to email me three likes and dislikes and I would try to come up with some perfumes to try.

Her likes:

semiprecious stones, old photographs, citrus, cinnamon, bergamot


Her dislikes:

leather pants (on anybody :), loud noises, Plax, heavy floral, chemical fruit scents (grape, apple, raspberry)


With these tidbits of preference I went thinking and smelling about, and came up with three suggestions sure to be winners. Here they are.


1.) Fleurs d'Oranger by Serge Lutens

I first learned of Serge Lutens perfumes years ago when I was a student in Paris. I was browsing the best department store in continental Europe and fell into conversation with a sales rep for Lutens's perfumes after smelling a number of paper samples. She had a rather complicated description of how his perfumes are so pure and refined and like silk on your skin, etc. etc. I listened politely and complimented the collection, but of course everything was way too pricey.

If I was a fine-perfume-and-fine-wine collecting type of girl and had a decent job, I would happily pick up something from this line. Whether or not you like a particular scent here, you'd be forced to agree that they are exceptionally well blended and thoughtfully balanced. Furthermore, the bottles are quite elegant, even if the type is slightly too frou-frou.

Assuming, dear Poet, that you are up for a splurge, do try Orange Flowers! It is incredibly warm and enveloping for a citrus scent (a good mix of the cinnamon and citrus you say you like). This perfume also starts out with a floral burst that quickly settles down into the rest of the mix, like with Rumeur. It is feminine without being the least bit cloying, like a perfectly tailored A-line dress. Go and read this lovely review by fellow perfume-loving blog, Perfume and Tea Make Me Happy (me, too!). It might well convince you that this hundred dollar treat for the senses is worth it.



2.) Bulgari's Thé Rouge

This perfume wins major points from me for daring to be different. It's a pretty ballsy little thing, don't be fooled by that delicate leaf decoration on the front of the bottle. Inside is a perplexing and original combination of fragrance notes: Pink Pepper, Orange, Bergamot, Red Tea Accord, Fig Pulp, Walnut, and Musk per Sephora's website. No strong floral overtones here.

I think Poet will like it because it's a little earthy and a lot eccentric, with a splash of bergamot to top it all off. At half the price of Fleurs d'Oranger, it suddenly looks like a bargain, right?






3. Heather by Demeter Fragrance

I. Love. Demeter. Nowhere else can you indulge your perfume whims for such a reasonable price. It's important to know that these perfumes are not the kind that will linger on into the evening; they have an alcohol base that fades quickly. You'll need to reapply somewhat frequently, but on the upside, you'll never reek. And luckily, their bottles are small enough to fit into a normal-sized purse or bag.

When I think semiprecious stones, quiet and old photographs, I think of Yorkshire. The moors, covered in heather. Ever-changing weather, a distant, beloved brooder and a lady's flushed cheeks. Gothic romance, in short! Perhaps you'll want to put a little bit of all that on your wrists.



There you go! By all means, Poet, write back and let me know exactly what you think of these perfumes if you decide to give them a sniff!

I'd be happy to do other prescriptions: just drop me a line with three of your likes and dislikes at pufferyblog@yahoo.com.

On the ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth day of Christmas...

I'm comin' in just under the line, y'all!

Sure, CHRISTMAS Christmas is over, it's already 2008. But as all good Catholics (and some of the rest of us) know, the twelfth and final day of Christmas is traditionally today, January 6th. It's the day the three wise men came to Jesus' manger NOT to smoke a rubber cigar, as my sister and I used to sing, but to shower the little babe with gifts of frankincense, gold and myrrh.

Anyway, in honor of those wise men I decided to gift my remaining four days of Christmas to the wise men amongst our readership (too numerous to be counted, I'm sure). This scent's for you, you guys. These were fun presents to pick out, mainly because I was happily surprised how many nice-smelling colognes there are out there. Maybe you lady-killers should throw away the Old Spice and wear the following:

1. Dior Homme.


Smells like:
Lavender, Sage, Cardamom, Iris, Cocoa Bean, Amber, Vetiver, Patchouli, Leather.

Now unfortunately I didn't get to smell this on a real live man but that's probably a good thing. The mere scent of it on a paper tester was enough to make me float in the air, like in those cartoons when some character is hungry and is carried along by the scent of pig roasting on a spit or something.

It smelled so good: sexy, yet intimately reassuring. Noticable, but definitely soft enough to let some wonderful natural sweat smell come through.

And it wasn't the only Dior cologne that I found shockingly good. Unlike many of Dior's women's perfumes, the men's offerings were virtually all subtle, not-overly-complex-or-heavy blends based around one solid and identifiable fragrance note, just the way I like things.

Please tell me gross Tom Ford is not the one who deserves the credit for creating such a lovely line of colognes. If he is, I owe him an apology for thinking he's so gross. And maybe dinner and a movie.




2. Crave by Calvin Klein.

Alright, dumb bottle design. Everything about it looks very outdated. That phallic arrow/traffic sign thingy is obnoxious. But the smell is just fantastic.

This cologne is even lighter than Dior Homme - very clean smelling, like simple bar of soap combined with the smell of newly split wood and some lemon. My imaginary Ken doll would wear Crave in the summer and Dior Homme in the winter.

Calvin Klein's Escape for Men is not bad, either. In fact, I give four stars to the whole line, just as I do to Dior's colognes. I'd say Calvin Klein scents will please guys who want to wear something slightly younger and fresher and, you know, take their clothes off a lot, while Dior colognes are for the more worldly and allusive playboy. Who want to take their clothes off a lot.



3. Van Clef and Arpels for Men.
Apologies for the bad pic. Despite the blurriness, you can still see what a very chic bottle it is.

The scent is the heaviest of all those I mention here, but it is prickly and spicy enough not to overwhelm.

Did you have a crush on that silent, sulky, dark-haired, Rimbaud-quoting kid who smoked cloves in high school? I bet he wears this when he puts on his velvet-lined tux jacket to go play bass in his rock band.

This was Serge Gainsbourg's scent. Enough said.







4. Marc Jacob's Men.
I liked this fragrance despite myself. It is tad too sweet, I think, bu t the design is so classy that I can forgive a lot.

There is some sort of ingredient in here that I became completely smell-ddicted to. Take your pick: it was either the Italian bergamot, the Tuscan cypress, the cumin, cardamom, ginger, fig leaves, rose, cyclamen, Cedarwood, musk, or Indonesian Patchouli.

Kind of sounds like a gingerbread cookie recipe, right? Maybe that's what it was that made my mouth water.

This is perfect for your sensitive soul woodsman, or your Arcade Fire-listening dandy. Disarming, unique, and vibrant.


Phew! Made it!

And to all a good night.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

Well, it's not the first day of Christmas, but it is the first of December. The sidewalks of Paris were teeming with shoppers today. Mini trees for tiny Parisian appartments appeared overnight in front of all the florists and hardware stores. Yet the weather here is warm, around ten degrees Celsius (fifty degrees Fahrenheit) and sunny, which means a lovely temperature to wander away long hours outside while humming carols under your breath.

I did a little Christmas shopping and a lot of Christmas looking, and I got to thinking about all the gifts I would love to give and get if I could go crazy with the euros. I thought it might be fun to do twelve days of giving and getting beauty stuff, here on the blog!

I'll start out, and hopefully the other girls will do a day, too, if they feel like it. And feel free to give and get some twelve-days-of-Christmas gifts in the comments, dear readers!

The best gift from a true love is always one that takes you by surprise, one he/she thought up themselves. That's why I wouldn't actually want my baby to get me anything I might post on here. But if a secret Santa would present me with my desire of the moment, it would be a big flacon of Rumeur by Lanvin.

I tried on this scent for the first time today and it's a definite perfume crush. Like most of the other eventually-blazing-like-wildfire crushes I've fallen victim to, I started out completely nonchalant. Then something shifted and I was completely captivated. The scent in its current incarnation was launched in 2006; it's nothing new or exciting. It wasn't a perfume on prominent display, meant to move for the holidays. It was simply sitting quietly on a normal, overstocked shelf. Still, it caught my eye due to its sort of elegant, sort of feral gold lettering and the brass pull-ring decorating the nozzle cover - designed, I'm sure, for people that can't resist pulling something off when tempted. Like this young lady. Love her Elvis forelock.


I pulled and sprayed and there was an immediate blast of strong, sharp floral note. In the store, I thought, "Lily-of-the-valley?" but info on the internet tells me it was magnolia.

I thought, "Oh dear. Not so great. What have I gotten my wrists into?" but on second whiff I caught a citrusy odor that seemed to cut through the heaviness of the flowery smell and blend it with the straightforwardly musky base.

A half an hour later, walking around, I kept on smelling myself compulsively. I thought, "There has to be some sort of special, highly addictive ingredient in here that makes it irresistible! I'm not wowed, yet at the same time I have the urge to smell this perfume every three seconds..." Two hours later I was a hardcore Rumeur junkie and convinced that this was the next new scent for me. It's velvety and womanly, but spicily fresh. It's luxurious, but a bit punk. I'm not going to do a Venn diagram for this one, but let's just say if you like silver hoop earrings, leather pants on men and antique postcards from the 1910s, you should give Rumeur a try.

Ten hours later, it's still quite noticeable on my skin. This is the kind of power perfume that you'd have to spray in the air and step into to avoid pissing off the scent-sensitive on the bus.

Watch out, unassuming Rumeur testeuses. Don't say I didn't warn you.

And happy December!