No more Douce? Skip the Amere, go for the Amour

If you follow fragrance, you've no doubt caught the (now old) news that Serge Lutens has removed Douce Amere from the export line.  It's a lovely little scent -- gadzooks, did I just say "little" in relation to Lutens?? -- if you like lightly sweetened milk.

(Robin over at NST got a bit more out of it...her review is here.)

Honestly, though, I'm not shedding any tears.  I can get Kenzo Amour more easily, and less expensively.  It, too, is a very kind sweet milky something; again, someone else finds it somewhat more complex than the tasty rice pudding I get.  (This time, that someone is Victoria over at Bois de Jasmin.)

I'd like to think that whenever vanilla enters the game, certain of my olfactory receptors dedicate themselves to that input only.  And NOT that I am not as discerning.

I am practicing full disclosure, nonetheless.

Travel sizes of Serge Lutens Douce Amere and Kenzo Amour both from my own collection.


Hey!  Have you let me know if you are interested in a shot at the vintage LOTV pair of samples yet?  Scroll down to the Lily of the Valley post...you have until end of day today.  

Eating my hat: Tuberose Criminelle

And here I was, just telling Grain de Musc "no how, no way."  Too much camphor.  Bad joke.  A theme I've sounded many times over the past couple of years.

Today, something happened.  I need to take notes on the context, just in case this is the only situation in which this one will fly:  ❏ A late in the day shower.  (Some days are like that.  Other things get in the way.  Advantage is, anything that gets tossed onto a wrist on a whim in the a.m. because I feel ready to give it a short whirl ends up getting a full ride.  TC was NOT one of those...it was a Mariella Burani duo...more on that another time.)  ❏ Temps in the 60's, high-ish but not outlandish for April in these parts.  ❏ Huge trench being dug in my yard.  Must consider the potential effect of watching one's planting handiwork nearly get decimated.  Nearly.  Surely extra hormones of some sort were flying.  Might have been a factor.  Will decidedly avoid trying to recreate that particular contextual element.

Anyway, I showered and, because it had somehow ended up in my drawer of tried & true "specials," I took out the SL Tuberose Criminelle.  Yup, there was that opening...but it didn't make me yank my head back and look around for the Candid Camera.  Hmm.  Another sniff...yeah, that's the note...but it's not...all consuming....

I am totally digging this tube today.  Feels like it catches the heady exotic aspects of the flower, while messing it up with other aspects of its reality.  The "camphor" settles into just a sharp something, just like what lingers in the air around a number of tropical whites.  Every other time, this one has been a viscous lipid with mothballs floating on top.  A practical joke, if you will.  Today, the joke is on me.  Today, it is a joy.

I'll take it.

Maybe this will just be a solitary glimpse, like that one good time I had with Kingdom.  But I'm glad to have had it, and wonder if perhaps this is what some of my 'fumey friends who love it live with every time they apply.

It's good to be reminded that patience can be rewarded.  Sometimes.

But no way am I going to dig a 9' hole in the yard just to try to get beyond the joke.  If the magic is gone, I'll live with the memory.  To adjust what Rick said to Ilsa, "We'll always have April 13th."

From soul of pine to PineSol: Wazamba, Fille en Aiguilles

This time I didn't bury the lead, I put it in the title.

Let me make clear up front, I think that my reactions to Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles and Parfum d'Empire Wazamba have as much to do with "your mileage may vary" and my own backstory as they do with the contents and delivery of the juice itself. That, and I am apparently a perfume philistine. But I share my story anyway...

First up was SL Filles en Aiguilles. I was excited to score a sample*--FeA was getting a fair amount of love from bloggers who I respect, and often line up with when it comes to what works for me. The heart of the pine forest and all. I'm down with that; I proudly claim the 45th parallel as my comfort zone, and a mixed deciduous/evergreen forest is part of the experience. Pine isn't just about the cutting down of trees or branches to decorate your home for the holidays; it's about the smell of needles as you brush by, the warm crunch of dead needles underfoot, the unbelievably sticky sap that won't leave your clothes or hair (or windshield) and makes for little spectacles when put on the fire. It is sharp, with a hint of warmth. It would be much better at clearing your sinuses than say, coffee beans--or at least that how it feels. (Avery Gilbert explains that the clearing of the nasal palate is a bunch of bunk in What the Nose Knows, but I shall tackle his debunkery in a different post.)

That's what pine is, to me. Then there is this other creation, an all-purpose cleaner for your house, the one a woman in a television commercial will tell you provides an odor that tells you your house is clean. (I have a friend who swears that Murphy's Oil Soap is the smell of clean, but I digress.) This other creation has always been oddly sweet, peculiarly fake, and definitely the smell of other people's houses.

This second creation appeared on my wrist as the opening of Filles en Aiguilles. Big time. And then the opening got pinpoint holes, and honey started to come through, but PineSol didn't leave. Eventually, I got to a warm Lutens-like sweet woody drydown, but ask me if it was worth the trip. I had to scrape through PineSol to get there. I'd rather skip the production and get to the final act, and to do that, I could just put on Chergui.

Hence, I ordered a small decant of Wazamba with no small amount of trepidation.

After all, another prickly pine, right? Wrong. Oh, happy space of well played pine. Mellowed by spicence (spice + incense?), as if you could do that. An evolution that plays with smooth interactions, not some odd stippling effect. I've been waiting for somebody to play the forest-as-cathedral. I don't think Wazamba captures the forests I am accustomed to inhabiting, but these will do just fine, thank you very much. And, oh happy day, it sits close to my skin, not requiring me to snorfle to get a hit, nor wafting beyond my safety circle. Just right for wearing to orchestra rehearsal: something that settles into comfort but remains inspiring and well composed. And stays by me.

I'm going to run around the block a few more times with both of these, but I'll say this: I've already gone back for seconds of Wazamba. Thank goodness for decantery. Next up is going to be a split or a swap. Because far from needling me, Wazamba keeps me thinking while wrapping up all cozy and nice. Filles en Aiguilles just gets under my skin.

*I've said it before, but it bears repeating: carrying vials with you at all times can prove worthwhile.

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.