You voted: Spring Scents Yet?

Yes, I like to remind myself it is coming	4 (19%)
Yes, because it has started behaving like spring	1 (4%)
No, because that would just be cruel right now	9 (42%)
No, because they're "in storage"	2 (9%)
I don't believe in seasonal scents	5 (23%)

Have tweaked the type color on the poll results so I can read them. (Grey on white?? whose idea of a joke is this?)  Half of the voting public said wearing a spring scent at this time of year would be unkind, and most of the other half was split nearly evenly between going ahead and wearing them to remind themselves that spring was coming, or dismissing the idea of seasonal scents altogether.

Should you be curious, I was in the cruel camp, but I cheated a bit.  I could have pleaded storage issues, because most of my spring/warm weather scents are housed together and currently not in the rotation zone...but it is not so difficult to get the them.  I mean, I could go splash some Eau Imperiale right now if I needed to, without any trouble.  You see, I think by season, but don't strictly adhere.

Fair warning:  I've released my (older version) Hermes Amazone.  Going to see if it is suitable for a greeting/heralding spring scent.  Not today, but soon.  Soon.

Hiris

The weather took quite a turn yesterday (Sunday).  All last week, it was stretching to reach 60.  Beautiful weather for a gardener in the spring, actually;  plenty of overcast, cool days to go out and work comfortably, in weather that was gentle on plants being divided/transplanted/attended to.

If you had been eyeballing an unusually tall thermometer, and putting those eyeballs at level with the top of the mercury, and found yourself squatting a bit to meet those temperatures...well...yesterday was your chance to straighten up.

One degree shy of 90.
And humid.

Aiy yi yiy.

I was heading out to meet a friend...had to put on real clothes, and had another meet up following...and I wanted to be scented.  But, despite the chatter that's been going on recently about how awesome it is to experience a heady floral or oud-y wonder in the full on heat -- yes, Denyse, I agree that there's a reason why that's the weather Nature chooses for opening up those beauties in the garden -- I wasn't ready to put my head in that space.  This was just Too Soon.

I went for cool.  Not cool-me-off-in-summer citrus.  Or cool green.  But, the uncanny rooty cool of iris root, unsweetened, straight up.  Which one?  The one that some people complain is too grey, too rooty, too austere.  Hermes Hiris.

This is the one that I long ago wrote about taking up to the northern woods, and found that it suited the shady green near the water environment.  A complement, as it were, to my natural context.  As if I were one with what I was moving about in.

Yesterday, the note was the same, but in a different tune.  This time, instead of a harmonious third, it went to a full 7th.  Starting on the 7th, filling the chord out from there.  Slightly in tension against the hot, humid air, as if going to my arm were like finding the shady spot under some ferns.  A welcome respite, which did not clash with what was going on around me, but offered yet another tone to the whole.

I'm not a fan of hot and humid.  In general, I find it oppressive and somewhat boring.  I love that characters in books--especially mysteries, hmmm--are sometimes all about digging the vibe that you find in the slowed down but thick and heightened miasma of, say, the bayou.  I love that people love that.  I don't love that.

I do love having the option of spritzing on Hiris.

Score one for once loved bottles waiting patiently in the drawer, waiting for their moment again.

Here's a crazy thing...

Terrible ice this morning.  Yesterday was a weirdly balmy 40+ degrees, melting our snow cover.  Temperatures plunged overnight, turning the remnants of melt and ongoing rain into a miles wide ice rink.  Beautiful.  Treacherous.

I, with an early morning commitment.  Wanting a bit o' scent to fortify, to make me more present than perhaps my slow-waking scelf might actually be.  Thinking over the usual suspects...mulled over a Chergui, an Organza Indecence, a repeat of yesterday's happy round with Black Cashmere.

Just before hopping in the shower, I find something else, because it is stored with the specials -- like Chergui -- and on a whim, I spray it.  Knowing it is out of season.  That I had something different, with a "low center of gravity," in mind.  

Ka-blam!  I loved it.  More than ever before.  I dally a bit before hopping in the shower...yup, am loving it still...ponder it even while scrubbing.  And realize, you know what?  It's early, I'm not ready for the potential downside of the heavy, and I'm still loving what happened with that.  So, on it goes.

Rose Ikebana.  It's just right for a casual suit worn with a turtleneck in the dead of single degree digit weather.  Who knew?  

My close waft made me happy all day.

Vetiver! Round Two

Thanks to Helg over at Perfume Shrine, and a spot of random drawing luck, I have in my possession three new vetiver samples: Hermes Vetiver Tonka, Frederic Malle Vetiver Extraordinaire, and Serge Lutens Vetiver Oriental.

Before I begin sharing impressions, allow me a moment to speak universally. (ahem....)

"Uncle!"

And oy. I had just achieved a certain Zen-like acceptance that I would never experience all the scents in the world, that I need not bemoan the influence of fiscal realities, because physical realities were such that I actually enjoy spending a lot of time with a single scent, discovering the various facets it may have to offer, and the varieties of reception I might bring depending on weather, mood, time of day, whatnot. (Not to mention evolving scent storage issues in my home.)

But when I applied a drop of the Hermes on my wrist, realized one more probably was needed for full frontal experience, applied another from the vial, I found myself simultaneously thinking: "Oh, this is going to be fun!" and "Cr#!, I'm probably going to like this." Which means there will always be a "want" list (not so good for letting go), and always a need for good notetaking (not so good for cyclical writers like me).

Such are the vagaries of my scented life.  On to the scents themselves...

Vetiver Tonka: First, let me admit why I tried this one first--the idea of vetiver and vanilla together seemed extreme, and held the potential for fun or a headache. Hence, my delicate start to its application. The good news is that it is a good match, with the players interacting well, both taking turns and mingling nicely. If the vetiver and tonka were a dance pair, they'd be that football dude who moves across the floor with the ballerina so well. I love the earthy green interlaced with vanilla caramel. They really do take turns showing off, with happy overlappings as they take their turns.

I dunno; maybe this interplay could be related to recent research saying nobody really multitasks, but actually processes & performs in sequence. Perhaps Vetiver Tonka helps pull back the curtain ever so slightly to reveal the sequential process of "multitasking," while also helping to maintain the illusion. All I know is, first run, and I like it.

Vetiver Extraordinaire: And the accidental brilliance of my sampling order emerges, for Vetiver Extraordinaire takes me fully out of the warm blanket/kitchen comforts of the Hermes and thrusts me out of doors for an all-out vetiver smack down. Fortunately, I am a mature person, and I am not disturbed to discover I enjoy this turn of events. Ha--I so enjoy being arch...the reality is probably more along the lines of "it's a good thing I've dated Vetiver a few times before having today's experience." I feel kinda like I'm inside a vetiver reed, taking in the rest of the composition from my grassy sheath. Not a problem; I've enjoyed laying down in grass and hay with other scents. But vetiver does not come from the terra firma of my youth or experience, so this is like some very calm & comfortable yet clearly exotic acquaintance who is about to become one of my best friends. My world is opening up just a little more for knowing it. 

Vetiver Oriental: Who knew? This sampling order was genius. Vetiver Oriental brings me back around the bend and straight to a "traditional perfume." Whereas the other two register as "scents" or "constructions," my personal history with perfume means that orientals are what comes to mind if I read or hear the word "perfume." Let me be clear; a scent is a perfume, and I know that. But there is a primal register from my youth and young adulthood, and it doesn't include vetiver or woods. It does, however, firmly and directly include orientals. And, my friends, this is an oriental. I've been waiting for the vetiver, which after my first run a month ago, and this run just know, I trust I am capable of recognizing. I'm liking this in the same way I like...hey, wait a minute, I get it...Le Baiser du Dragon. Okay, so vetiver is a note inside. But it is INSIDE, one note among many. I am enjoying this, but if I were clustering by category and not house/nose, this would go oriental. Which, I guess, is the English language way of interpreting the name--the adjective "vetiver" describes what kind of "oriental" is inside the bottle. Just don't expect it to be a bold adjective.

Drydown verdicts:
Vetiver Tonka, good for low-key nights with friends, days off with books or crafts.  Cool-cold weather. "You smell good."
Vetiver Extraordinaire, good for work days or studying, cause it'll smell good and keep me sharp.  "mmm, You smell interesting."
Vetiver Oriental, one of those night out scents, or maybe something for a bit more daring day at work, since it isn't a heavy or resiny oriental. "You're all dressed up, aren't you?"

Budget awareness:
Hermes Vetiver Tonka, $55 for a 15ml decant (from manufacturer) at The Perfumed Court.
Vetiver Extraordinaire, $210 for 100ml at Barney's.
Vetiver Oriental, $140 for 50ml at LuckyScent.
Le Baiser du Dragon @$48 for 1oz at FragranceX.
Winning a sample, swapping, or sharing samples with a fellow perfume explorer, priceless.

Trial Runs:

I 've heard tell that human beings require seven (7) exposures to a new taste before they can know if they like it or not.  I heard tell of this when learning about "introducing new foods" to the ultimate "newbies": babies adding foods other than breastmilk to their diets.  

Could it be that scent introduction is like that?  How many times have I sampled a scent, and been nonplussed, or worse, felt that it was "ugly," or worse yet, was repulsed by it?  And yet later...I find that a fresh note, or even overall impression arises; or that what was "nope" has become "Hmmm!"

And yet some scents ride a steady line, either positive or not.  Time and time again, they register the same reaction; the steady hitters coaches like at the heart of the lineup, if for no other reason than their predictability.

A quick look at Steady Eddies (Edies?) and Morphing Mojos from the rose family.  

Steady Eddie:

In the postive sense:  Bulgari Rose Essentiale has been, from first spray, a nicely constructed, "true," linear rose.  Nothing more--and, because it is so nicely done for what it is, certainly nothing less.

In the negative sense:  Sheseido White Rose remains a room clearer for me.  Unfortunately, when I try to leave the room, it is still clinging to my wrist.  (Sheesh...I just found Chandler Burr on this d@%! perfume...once again, I am shamed into doubting my reaction.  Skulking off to try it again.)

By the way, I do believe that "scrubber" is to perfume for an adult as "hurler" is to get-it-away-from-me-now food for the young child.

Morphing Monster:

Alexander McQueen Kingdom.  I'm sorry, but it was four tries in, and I still was on the panties side of the fence with this one.  "Cumin" my hiney; I was totally getting the indiscreet note that some spoke of.  No ifs, ands, or (almost) butts about it.  I kind of felt like the kid in "The Emperor's New Clothes"--no, wait, that's too noble.  I was too apprehensive to dare say "this stinks!!," but doubting myself for not getting "ah, the smell of it."  And then, the fifth time -- wondering if perhaps I had a bit of a masochistic streak in me after all -- I found the beautiful rose.  Under...cumin!  and then skank.  But hey, I found it, hidden in the layers, and my spine straightened triumphantly.

Somewhere in between:

Hermes Rose Ikebana.  Three tries, three different reactions:  Meh.  Weird.  Nice.  Notice, none of the reactions were strong...but clearly different.

I'm sure I will discover more morphers, if I'm just patient enough.  

On a side note, as long as I'm chatting about roses:  I retain a strong fondness for the discontinued Bath & Body Works body essence Sandalwood Rose.  A Steady Eddie for me.  Love the body scent, the shower gel, the lotion.  An excellent half faced scent for me:  half "me scent," half "I'm wearing this."  If anybody is harboring a case, contact me for swapping.  ;)