Ice at the margins

There was a hint of the turn of the earth yesterday.  We stood in a transition, a hard one, with collisions of sharp wind and bright sunshine, soil uncovered and ice still floating, the smell of water melting and of organic matter still thawing.

It was but one day.  Winter will roar again, but Spring will poke in, then grab hold of a few spots, then eventually lay over everything.

In past years, I might have reached for Silences.  I do love it when it is nearly time to literally turn the earth, when remnants of chill remain, but the soil is nearly ready to turn.  For no discernible reason, I picked up Aliage instead.

Turns out it was perfect.  The citrus wallops back against the greens, just like the bright nearly harsh sunshine pierced the fierce wind...and the bitter wind ended up holding its own against any hope of solar warmth.

Allowing oneself a glimpse of spring at this time of year at this latitude is not for sissies.

one scent ... or many?

The Holy Grail, versus a wardrobe.

The One, or a scent library.

I don't know if I'll ever return to a search for a "signature scent," my holy grail of perfume.  I do know that when I first started falling down the rabbit hole of scent, I was determined to find a scent that was clearly "me."  And I did find three that came close, any one of which would be a good candidate for the just one scent I was allowed if there were such restrictions in the universe.  They are:

• L'Artisan Fleur d'Narcisse
• Parfumerie Generale Bois Blond
• Tauer Reverie au Jardin

Each is rather distinctive, which is something that would seem to fit "signature" scent by definition.  (Though upon writing that it seems perfectly fair to argue that a person's signature scent could be all about just "smelling good" to the maximum amount of people, or blending in, or what have you.)  Each also has a clear vegetal element, hay, narcissus, lavender, galbanum.  That has proven to be a common "me" element through my descent, even as I learn more notes and my general attractions open up and shift.

But I don't know if any would be on a Top 5, or even Top 10, list for recommendations for a scent wardrobe.  None are scents that appear in the current version of my regular rotation.  And for a fragrance wardrobe, which (for me, at least) needs to incorporate woody, oriental, fresh, classic, and comfort among its elements--see, already five down--I would go elsewhere. Perhaps, following those elemental guidelines:

• DKNY Black Cashmere (or YSL Nu)
• Guerlain Shalimar
• Guerlain Eau de Imperiale  (or Annick Goutal Mandragore, or Prada Infusion d'Iris)
• Chanel Bois des Iles  (or maybe Lanvin Arpege, or Jolie Madame)*
• Givenchy Organza Indecence  (or Guerlain Bois de Armenie, or Parfumerie Generale  L'Ombre Fauve, or Serge Lutens Chergui, or...there are many, many in this category)

I haven't even touched earth or galbanum yet, which I absolutely, positively must have, and could perhaps satisfy with a bottle of Jacomo Silences.  So, I guess, cut the classics, because while I like to have them around, maybe I don't absolutely, positively have to have them.

But then what do I do with Bois des Isles, which is both "me" and "classic" and not ever going to leave my real life options?  Go ahead, bring on your hired guns; you'll have trouble prying it out of my cold, dead hands.  (Oh, dear; apparently too much Mafia Wars and cowboy references this week.)

And what of the rites of spring?  Diorissimo, the ritual dabbing of which from a vintage bottle is already an untouchable ceremony.  Or CB-IHP Black March, which gets used layered and alone for a few weeks just before I can huff the real stuff in my garden?  Or dismiss the gimmicks, and stick with the pained pleasure of En Passant, or Apres L'Ondee?  But if I dismiss the "gimmicks," I'll drop an important element of the rites of fall, too, when Burning Leaves and other smokes enjoy a few weeks of ritual transition.  

Uh-oh, that reminds me of another favorite category:  amber.  Should I pick a sweet one, or something more in the spice range?  Or perhaps a mix?  Or is that going to limit its use to the dead of winter???

Oh, yeah, picking out amber reminds me of another category which deserves a bottle of its own:  green.  And there are so many, which version would I pick?  Diorella?  Bel Respiro?  

I'm doomed for a five bottle wardrobe.  Let's go back to ten.  Then Bois des Isles can be its own category.  I think that's eight categories, leaving me room to pick more than one for one or two categories.  If I don't open up the categories to include florals...or bring back the "gimmicks"...

Dear heavens, I forgot leather.  I absolutely love leather.  

This exercise falls under the category "brain bending futile fun."  If I write it next week, different scents will show up.  If you came to this post hoping for an answer, I don't have one. Is it possible to have a signature scent?  Sure.  Is a fragrance wardrobe a reasonable approach? Absolutely.  

No answers, but I do know is I feel incredibly fortunate that my sniffer works and brings me such silly guilty pleasure.  And that I have discovered an incredibly enthusiastic, sharing perfume crowd who are more than happy to open my eyes (and nose) to new things.  If you are trolling the blogs as part of a regular habit, you know what I mean.  If you are just starting out...well...whatever contours your path takes, it's going to be a fun adventure, and there really is no "right" way to do it.**

*hey, notice how things that are "classic" can also veer widely from each other; and here I haven't tried to include a modern "classic"

**well...except that you should use decants and swaps.  Lots of pain, heartbreak, and cash can be saved that way.

***I am footnoting like crazy today...somebody is responsible...you know who....

****okay, it's not like crazy, and now I'm pushing the convention intentions, but what the heck...maybe one day soon I will go footnote hog wild....

Coming Back to My Senses...

The title might suggest I'd had a cold or some such and am once again able to sniff. But no...today, it simply means I've been on a sugared fruit bender, and proceeding willy nilly from this sodden concoction to that in a rather joyous but somewhat reckless traipsing through my collection.

(I have been brutally enabled by friends...you know who you are...sending me flocks of fragrance...where to begin? How can I say no? Aren't I supposed to just have fun with this?? Gulp gulp gulp.)

No worries. I have been settled by Silences.

BitterGrace has a delightful habit of posting one-sentence reviews over at her blog, BitterGrace Notes.  (And only in this moment has the musician in me heard the joke in the title.  The gardener in me kept on thinking of bittersweet, and blocked my brain.)  Anyway, in her one line review of Jacomo Silences, she both delighted me and reminded me that I had found something intriguing in Silences when I tried it early in my scent development.  And that I thought at the time it was something I should come back to when I was more "mature," sniff-wise.

Time passes.  Remember yesterday's post, where I was waiting for my impetuous application of Fragile to fade?  It did.  I applied Silences.  Ahhhhhhh.

You know how after you haven't been eating so well...too much junk, not enough fruit and vegetables, too much processed food, not enough true flavors....how after you haven't been eating well, and you sit down and consume a well-prepared meal with plenty of all that is good and fresh and recognizable as it grew on the planet, even as you chew, your body relaxes and says "thank you!" and your mood improves and your head clears and you immediately feel better physically?  

That's what it was like to sniff Silences, from the sharp (but already layered) opening through the dark green first layer and on into the galbanum earth to the very smooth remnants of extreme dry down.  Good eating all the way.

If you follow the link above, you'll see my comment to BitterGrace; I realized that Silences is the perfect link between cool weather and flat out winter.  I am absolutely going to pull it out as winter fades; its complexity will be just right for holding interest in the cold, yet the green and dirt will give hints of the growing that is beginning under the soil (and perhaps still under the snow).  

It's good to be eating well again.  If I am honest, though, I am going to have to acknowledge that winter still has a firm grip on things, and likely will for a while; if I want to keep on encouraging my "mature" sniffer in the near future, I'll have to keep those better quality, more complex cold weather scents in my fragrance diet.

I hope you'll forgive me if I dip back into the hooch sometimes.

For other thoughts on Silences, see Victoria's review in Bois de Jasmin; hers is the take that sent me in search of a sample in the first place.  

Silences is delightfully affordable at online retailers.