Allow me to introduce you to my latest. As I get ready to tell you about them, it occurs to me that, like my friends, there is quite a variety of personalities and how/why they have a place in my life. This quintet did arrive as a clique, erm, lot, so it was all or nothing when it came to bidding on them.
You may recall how I described them in my previous post. There is Vivara, the former formula. Chypre, but not brash like YSL "Y." Easy to get to know. Quickly entered the realm of "I'd call it a staple if I had enough." I have enough now. That, right there, made the lot worth the cost to me. But wait...there's more....
Giorgio. Giorgio, Giorgio, wherefore art thou Giorgio? A blast by any other name...would scream '80's. But this one, THIS one, was what formed a cloud around the escalators in the Hudson's where I sold shoes for three years. Ladies going up, ladies going down. The perfume counter wasn't far from my department. I usually ran by, because a colleague was always going over and grabbing a few spritzes of Poison, so I associated that glass with potential asphyxiation. Except for the day I stopped for KL. But that's another story. ANYWAY, I never once applied Giorgio to my skin. And then it was gone. Until now.
Tuscany per Donna. You spend enough time with perfume blogs, books, and banter, and you can develop impressions of scents you don't really pay attention to. Like this one. I saw the name and vague memories of love/hate came to mind. Was it lauded in The Guide? Turin for sure tends to extol the virtues of Lauder. But might it not be a big screamer? Look, it comes with friends like Giorgio and Knowing, not my bag. But there's Vivara...and there's The One...aw, heck, give it a try.
Knowing. Had it already. Same miniature came in an Estee Lauder sample collection I got a while back. (See this post.) This one will probably be set aside for gift or swap. 'Sokay. Need a little quiet like that for a moment before I turn my full attention to the next one. 'Cause it's a doozy.
I'm not even going to call it by name. You can read the label. What if I fall head over heels in love? What if that one encounter, an evening with me, some friends, and the lovely smell behind the ear of one of my lovely companions, ends up being my downfall? I never expected to even get this far. But here it is. My own bottle. You can see by the picture that it is a "partial bottle," which is to say that the bottle is fully intact but the contents are not at full volume. I could see that in the listing pic, too. What I could not see in the listing is that the bottle IS STILL SEALED.
Still sealed. That brings an extra layer of "oooh, special" to the equation. Could be nearly perfect, the juice inside. Or, the fact that so much evaporated off might show just how faulty the seal is. Maybe it smells like Froot Loops. Or a litter box. Or my nail polish. Or...nothing. This still being sealed business means only one thing for sure. I'm going to stare at and gently handle that little bottle for weeks before I attempt to open it.
Back to finding the joy in the waiting.
And so I shall. Me, with a new Steady Eddie, and blast from the past, a novelty to explore, a gift to share, and a passionate obsession.
Kinda cool.
