With a Songes in my heart

I love coming back to old loves.  It's a delight to rediscover the passion, and remember all the things that made it good.  Today, I return to an old love...by starting with something new.

I've been playing with a sample of Guerlain Heritage I got last week.  I'm digging it...it's a morpher, and I'm finding what I keep on returning for is the finish.  Gritty sweet amberish nuzzle my snurfle into and just settle in.

I'll play some more, and report back.

Meanwhile, notice that word "gritty"?  There's something about a rasp...love it in Polly Bergen's voice.  Adore it in a scent.  PdN Le Temps d'une Fete has a green rasp to it; Heritage and Habit Rouge have a textured something going on; and here it is in my final hours of Songes.  I love it.

Each of those is quite different from the others in rather essential ways.  But, they share something, too; each settles into my skin with a depth that tickles as you push your way into it.  In a way that is no smooth meringue, or creamy pudding.  It feels good in the same way as...well, as chips on a sore mucousy throat.  WHAT? Repeat that?

When I have a cold, and I'm at that stage when my throat is somewhat sore, but also feels like it is somewhat coated with ick, it feels good to have something sharp or harsh go down, to cut through the dense coating.

Erm, sorry; that really was what came to mind.  I don't have a cold or anything.

Hey, how about I change tack a bit?  This principle can be found elsewhere.  Use some bitters to cut the viscosity of a sweet cocktail. Put a little lemon in that butter cream sauce.  Or...sprinkle some sand in that paint you are putting on the stairs, so you don't slip down them when it's wet out.

So much for the sidebar on things raspy.  Back to the Songes.  It makes me happy, in that snarf/huff/settle/smile way.  A creamy white floral that doesn't kill you with gas or oil.  Because, among other things, somebody had the good sense to cut it with a little grit.