The giveaway has been won, by
Heather
… who did not hesitate to trawl the archives in search of this very funny comment made my Mr. APB: “I have this vision in my mind of what a doctor should be. Let’s just say she doesn’t feather her hair.”
Apparently, he had a pretty interesting experience at the urgent care clinic yesterday.
APB turns one year old today! I love blogging here, I love reading all of your comments and blogs, and I can’t wait to see what the next year brings. To all of you who read regularly, pop in occasionally, subscribe, follow on Twitter, or otherwise contribute to APB each month: thank you, thank you, thank you.
To celebrate, I am sending back some of the love I have for you, in perfumed form. But to make it more interesting, I turned this giveaway into a spot of sleuthing. I have hidden, somewhere on my site, a quote from Mr. APB. It’s something he said to me today, and as usual it’s darn funny. You’ll know the quote when you find it, because it’s tacked onto a PERFUME REVIEW and it will make you think of one of Charlie’s Angels.
When you find it, email me at anotherperfumeblog<at>hotmail<dot>com and tell me where you found it and what it says. The first person to e-mail will receive a gift voucher for Nordstrom (if you live in the US) or Les Senteurs (if you live in the UK/ Europe). If you live outside the US or Europe, you should still try your chances, and I’ll work something else out.
Once again, thank you for reading!
Hugs,
Natalie
This post will not dissect Madonna’s appearance, recent business ventures, music career, or reputation as an innovator. It will not explore her new perfume, Truth or Dare, in the context of the virgin-whore dichotomy that Madonna has explored and exploited and turned on end and embraced throughout her career.
It’s about the perfume.
Truth or Dare has a lot in common with Fracas, the perfume Madonna has been reported to wear for as long as I can remember. The two share a tuberose-gardenia-jasmine heart and a big ‘ole white floral feeling. But beyond that, to my nose, they part company. In Truth or Dare, the gardenia is more pronounced than the tuberose, and the tuberose lacks the dirty, rubbery quality it has in Fracas. I also smell a fair bit of neroli in the opening notes of Truth or Dare. Overall, it is velvetier, without the harsh edges that make Fracas arresting and—at times—downright ugly.
The heart and base notes of Truth or Dare head in a more gourmand direction. Benzoin, amber, and a vanilla base are lightly sweet, but not quite edible. And as with the opening notes, they suggest a scandalous, slightly dirty (i.e., sexual) fragrance more than they actually deliver one. Truth or Dare goes fairly easily to the office, and in spite of its impressive sillage (three sprays lasted for eight hours, with serious projection), didn’t make me feel “that girl.”
I’m not sure I need Truth or Dare in my collection. I’m not a massive fan of white florals, so my needs in this area are limited. But would I buy this before I would buy Carnal Flower or Fracas? Absolutely. Some might call it “Fracas for Wimps” or “Fracas Lite” — I call it a nicely wearable everyday white floral. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Don Pedro: Will you have me, lady?
And Madonna herself? She still kicks ass in my book.
***
My rating for Truth or Dare is three Shalimars, which is “I like it!” Why? Because it’s a white floral I can see myself wearing enough to justify its price tag, and it smells just a little more expensive than said price tag—I like that.
For other reviews of Madonna’s Truth or Dare perfume, check Bois de Jasmin and Now Smell This.
Image by Richard Corman, found at PRLog.Org.
This weekend I ran across a video of a talk by Luca Turin, which covers the main points of The Emperor of Scent, the book Chandler Burr wrote documenting Turin’s formulation and defense of his theory of smell.
The Emperor of Scent is a fairly technical book, dealing as it does with what is essentially a chemistry question. Turin’s theory of smell is that it is a result of vibrations. This is in contrast to the more widely accepted view that scent is a result of molecules fitting into scent receptors in our noses based on their shapes. Burr does an excellent job of weaving a compelling narrative around Turin’s fight to have his theory taken seriously, but I’ve noticed this isn’t one of the books perfume lovers seem to gravitate toward.
The video linked above distills it succinctly, so if you have an interest and about 15 minutes, you can get the high points of the theory. What’s missing, both from the video and the book, is an in-depth account of why most scientists still don’t accept Turin’s theory. I notice that Charles Sell, a chemist who writes and publishes numerous technical books on the chemistry of scent, has a new one coming out this summer. I wonder if the vibration theory will make an appearance?
I haven’t dug terribly deeply into the debate myself, but I find it surprising (and kind’ve cool) that there is any doubt at all about how smell works. It would seem like we’d have the technology to have figured that out by now. But I’m glad the sense of smell has eluded science somewhat. Keeps a bit of mystery in it!
With apologies for the radio silence this week: I’ve been reading April’s magazines to prepare this month’s review of perfume in print. (It has been an unexpectedly expensive proposition, too! More on that tomorrow.)
As suggested in responses to my March post, this month I added Allure and Teen Vogue to my reading pile. I haven’t covered my favorite magazine, Bazaar, but only because it doesn’t seem to have hit stores near me yet. I will add to this post when I get it.
The April issue of Lucky contained a short feature (1/2 page of bottle photos with captions) titled “Gorgeous New Spring Scents.” The fragrances featured were L’eau de Chloe, Givenchy Dahlia Noir, Roberto Cavalli EdP, Salvatore Ferragamo Signorina, and Jimmy Choo EdT. Here’s what Lucky had to say.
Lucky also included a brief write-up on the new Ralph Lauren Big Pony Collection for Women No. 1. There were scent strips for all four fragrances in Elle and Marie Claire this month. From just those scent strips, I doubt I’ll be smelling any of them further. Lucky described No. 1 as “citrusy, light, and so pretty.”
Valentina by Valentino featured briefly in a spread about florals “spillinng over” from the runways to the beauty counter. Understandable, with its pretty bottle. There was no comment in the spread on how it smells. My opinion? Awful. Absolutely awful. I actually threw away my sample, it was so bad.
In Jean Godfrey-June’s column this month, the scent discussed is Kiehl’s Original Musk. She writes that it is known in the Lucky offices as the Breakup Fragrance because “you dab a little on your wrist and step, chastened, back into the world …” At this point, I was completely into her line of thinking. I find Kiehl’s Original Musk aggressive, but also a bit austere. Very much a badass experience because (to be honest) I think it smells kind’ve bad, and you’ve got to love something and not care what anyone else thinks to wear such a polarizing scent. But then Ms. Godrey-June went in a direction I found a lot less interesting with the end of her sentence and story: “… and find yourself mush more popular than you remember. Eligible operatives appear out of the woodwork en masse, demanding, sexily, to know what you’re wearing.” Shucks.
I saved my favorite perfume coverage in Lucky for last, and it isn’t really “coverage” at all. In their article about storing jewelry, the vanity surfaces contain Patchouli Imperial from Dior, Prada Infusion d’Iris, Givenchy and Creed, etc. Who doesn’t like pretty vanity pictures?
Moving onto Marie Claire. In terms of ads, it contained standard ads for Salvatore Ferragamo Signorina, Coach Poppy Flower, L’eau de Chloe, and Dolce & Gabbana The One, and scent strip ads for Ralph Lauren Big Pony Fragrance Collection for Women and Narcisso Rodriguez for Her. In terms of editorial coverage, it contained a mention of Bulgari Omnia Coral, which it describes (straight from the press copy) as a “floral and fruity scent … inspired by red-coral reefs.” Lovestruck by Vera Wang is mentioned in connection with Leighton Meester and a giveaway of a bottle of the perfume. (Meester is the face of Lovestruck.) The Big Pony collection is described in the Beauty Desk section as a “sensorial treat” which will “look gorgeous on any vanity.” I can’t see the Big Pony fragrance bottle looking good on the vanity above. Can you?
Another advertiser, Signorina, is pictured in an editorial spread titled “Sweet Tooth.” A story covering the favorite beauty items of Australian model Abbey Lee Kershaw (face of the Gucci floral campaign) includes—surprise—-photos of the five Gucci Flora Garden Collection fragrances and her statement that she likes them all. “I’m a typical Gemini in that way!” I’d be a Gemini, too, if Gucci was paying my rent. But kudos to her for at least finding a slightly creative way to simultaneously endorse five different fragrances.
The back cover of this month’s Marie Claire is the new Miss Dior ad featuring Natalie Portman and the fragrance we all know as Miss Dior Cherie in its rebranded “Miss Dior” label. The very sad end of an era. Regardless of your opinion about the reformulation of classic Miss Dior in recent years, there’s no question it is a unique and iconic scent that doesn’t deserve to have its name taken by a former flanker. One thing I do like about the ad is the faux-embroidery of the Miss Dior name. Most perfume ads are so unoriginal; it’s nice to see a variation on the “pretty girl stares pensively/sexily/glamorously at the camera, backgrounded by petals/fields/tulle dresses” theme.
The April edition of Allure contains a scent strip of Coach’s Signature Summer Fragrance Limited Edition and Coach’s Signature Fragrance (apprently those are really the names) and Issey Miyake L’Eau d’Issey Florale. Other advertisers are Dolce & Gabbana The One, Chanel Coco Mademoiselle, Victor & Rolf Flowerbomb, L’eau de Chloe, Roberto Cavalli, Miss Dior (the same ad described above), and Juicy Couture. L’eau de Chloe is given a brief write-up. It is described as “a steamy summer scent.” I cannot agree. Steamy?
One of the more interesting things Allure did was ask yoginis at the studio Madonna attends in New York what they think of her new fragrance, Truth or Dare. The writer describes it as “like a virgin (white lily) touched for the very first time (tuberose and musk).” Clever and apt. Reactions from the yoginis was positive. Watch for my review coming up this week.
Allure also included a review of Malle’s book On Perfume Making. In its Fashion Sense feature of women styling selected trends, some of the women mentioned fragrances. One says her scent is a cedar-amber-floral mix she blends herself, another cited L’Artisan Piment Brulant, and a third named The Different Company Rose Poivree.
Elle for April featured scent strips for the Big Pony France Collection for Women, Narcisso Rodriguez for Her, and Donna Karan Cashmere Mist. Other advertisers were Salvatore Ferragamo Signorina, Tommy Hilfiger Eau Prep Tommy and Eau Prep Tommy Girl, Dolce & Gabbana The One, and L’eau de Chloe.
One of the most interesting articles in this month’s issue was written by Olivia Stren, ruminating on how her glamorous aunt, an actress and voiceover artist in Paris, failed to age gracefully or happily. In describing her aunt’s early style, the writer shares that she would “never so much as visit the newspaper kiosk without lipstick and a spritz of Guerlain Chamade.” It’s a lovely, if sad, article and well worth reading.
L’eau de Chloe was featured in the magazine’s “It List” spread, which described the scent as “A garden breeze, bottled.” Generic, but true. The rest of the blurb is straight from the PR: “highly concentrated rose water” and a “lemonade-like” citrus blend.
Vogue contained scent strips for Dolce & Gabbana The One and Victor & Rolf Flowerbomb. Other advertisers were Juicy Couture, Marc Jacobs Oh, Lola!, L’eau de Chloe, Balenciaga Paris, and Bond No. 9 Central Park West (first Bond advertisement I’ve seen, I think—check out The Candy Perfume Boy’s review of Bond No. 9 Central Park West here).
In a sporty-style-themed spread, Vogue featured the pop-colored perfume bottles in Costume National’s Pop Collection. There was no other perfume coverage in the magazine this month.
Teen Vogue included scent strips for Coach Poppy and Coach Poppy Flower and for the Big Pony Fragrance Collection for Women. Other advertisers were Marc Jacobs Daisy Eau So Fresh, L’Eau de Chloe, and Miss Dior (same ad mentioned earlier). An interview with Emma Watson (spokesmodel for Lancome) pictured Lancome’s Tresor Midnight Rose, as all interviews with Emma Watson do. A prom night “glitter” spread featured Vera Wang Princess Night, which I have to say is a great bottle for a teenaged girl (or the teenaged girl inside anyone else).
Another prom spread featured Yves Saint Laurent Paris Premieres Roses.
The most interesting perfume coverage in Teen Vogue involved the results of the Teen Vogue Beauty Awards Readers’ Picks. The write-up indicated that the fragrance picked as favorite was Marc Jacobs Daisy. The picture, however, showed Marc Jacobs Daisy Eau So Fresh. Ha. A lesson to Marc Jacobs to stop making those ridiculous bottles, or a lesson to Teen Vogue‘s page proofers? You decide.
And that’s a wrap. As you can see, there wasn’t a ton of continuity between the March coverage and the April coverage. Valentino Valentina, covered most in March, almost might not exist in looking at April’s coverage. No further reviews, and no advertising to keep it front-of-mind. My feeling is that L’eau de Chloe probably got the most overall coverage, in terms of combined advertising and editorial, this month. We’ll see how it goes in May.
Now, back to regularly scheduled programming. Any requests for the week? I’m planning to continue my posts on Chanel’s Les Exclusifs but also post about Truth or Dare and something else non-Chanel. Suggestions would be very welcome!
All images courtesy the respective magazines, except Vera Wang Princess Night, via Macy’s.
A few weeks ago I had a brief conversation with a (male) friend about fragrances. He doesn’t like wearing scents himself, but loves them on his girlfriend. The only fragrance he has fond memories of is Fahrenheit; for everything else, he goes unscented.
This started me thinking about how few “unscented” products are truly odorless, and about scent sensitivity in general. Over the past year, writing this blog has given me a new focus and purpose for using my nose, and one of the things that has changed is that my natural curiosity about and sensitivity to smells has become more pronounced. I find it much more difficult to ignore smells than I used to. And I’m now incredibly sensitive to the smell of …
… nice clean musks. In other words, the kinds of musks that are typically used in “unscented” cleansers and body products. For example, I used to be unbothered by the benign barely-there odor of Purpose facial cleanser, which I had used for years. Now, I think “How did I think this scent was barely there?” I really dislike it.
I’ve also noticed that I can’t ignore the smells around me as much, even when I want to. I used to be able to “tune” in and out of smells. Not anymore! The past week or so, I’ve been walking around trying to place what the smell of Bradford Pear trees reminds me of. Well, I did finally place it, but I wish I hadn’t. I don’t like to say, but if you’re dying to know, the slang name for the trees on Urban Dictionary expresses my assessment exactly. I recommend not clicking that link if you’re squeamish.
Have you ever become sensitive to a smell that previously didn’t bother you? How easy do you find it to ignore smells in your environment?
Images courtesy Wikipedia and Sharpless Auctions, respectively.
I’m very happy to say the Women’s Picture fund on Kickstarter reached its goal. I received four comments on my giveaway post for the project, from Susan, Heather, Mals, and Tara.
Now, I know some of you said not to enter you in the draw, but I was planning on giving away five goodie bags, so I am happy to send them to each of you. If you want to claim a prize, please send me an email at anotherperfumeblog(at)hotmail(dot)com and let me know you want the prize and where to send it. I will most likely follow up and check in with you on at least a few of the perfumes I will send, so you can be sure of getting some you definitely want to try, along with a few surprises.
Hip hip hooray for all of us helping fund the project!
Guimauve de Soie was created by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz as a bespoke perfume for Carrie of Eyeliner on a Cat, who won the one-year blog anniversary drawing Dawn held last year. Carrie’s description of her idea for the perfume was ” … iris, violet, milk, powdered sugar, ozonic note, bitter almond, anise, civet. The goal is a dreamy gourmand with a musky quality.”
The resulting perfume is unlike anything I know from DSH perfumes, and (I doubt I’m spoiling the suspense*) I like it a lot. I’ve been wearing it non-stop since I got a sample on Saturday. Guimauve de Soie opens with a slightly bitter green iris and citrus accompanied by what smells to me like a very dry broom note. Then a blend of violet, iris, heliotrope, and condensed milk join in. The overall effect is cozy but a little sharp.
Dawn described this as a tactile perfume, a purple silk scarf. I can see (or should I say feel?) this in it because of her description, but when I close my eyes and smell Guimauve de Soie in the first few minutes after spraying, the tactile image that comes to my mind is rougher: the feel of brisk wind on bare skin, of a scarf whipped across my face on a chilly autumn day. Despite its inviting and familiar gourmand notes, there is something in Guimauve de Soie at this stage that is broody, disconcerting, and dark—and I like that.
As it dries down, it becomes sweeter. Maybe there is also a bit of powderiness to the violet. But most of the notes just gently waft away, leaving behind iris flower and violet with a milky anise (and maybe some vanilla). I’m glad it isn’t a super simple musky base. I also want to note that the base of Guimauve de Soie doesn’t have that recognizable something that emerges after an hour or so of wear of other DSH perfumes and lasts on my skin for several hours. Although I don’t dislike that accord I smell in those other perfumes, I must say I prefer this base; I find it less distracting and more in keeping with the overall composition.
***
My rating for Guimauve de Soie is a 3. Why? I like the juxtaposition of traditionally sweet and comforting gourmand notes with sharper iris and violet. It smells different and more grown up than other DSH perfumes I have tested (with the possible exceptions of Pandora and Mata Hari). What prevents me from giving it a 4 is that I wish it was even more grown up. The development rushes past what I think is the best stage, about 15 minutes after application, before the sweeter base notes have started to settle in and when the whole composition is slightly strange.
*I say that I doubt I’m destroying the suspense because, just as some of you guessed that an image of Doris Day smelling the flowers means I probably don’t like something much, you can probably guess than an Edward Gorey image means I do!
Image is courtesy Betsy Devine.
Some of you may have realized that I am slowly (verrry slowly) working my way through each of Chanel’s Les Exclusifs that I haven’t written about before. Today, the subject is Beige.
I came to my love of perfume in part through the door of fashion, so the perfumes offered by major fashion houses—Chanel and Dior in particular—have a special legacy in my mind. Usually I have particular ideas I want them to live up to. This was definitely the case with Beige, one of the first Exclusifs I tried.
Coco Chanel, regardless of everything else she may have been, was a visionary. And her typical color palette of black, white, and shades of nude is one striking example of her work changing the way women dress in a lasting way. Her unique aesthetic definitely lives on at Chanel, and that it still feels innovative and original is probably the best argument for her talent and influence.
I wish I could say Beige lived up to its name. Instead, it’s perfectly fine, but that’s all it is. A light, clean white floral warmed to sunniness by honey and prodded into adulthood with oh-so-discreet punches of powder, musks, and aldehydes.
Beige has found quite a few fans, judging from reviews on Basenotes and blogs, where it’s often described as something of a modern classic. But ironically, I find that Beige isn’t so different conceptually from Jersey, the latest Exclusif, which has been maligned for its squeaky clean musks. In everything from the name (Jersey is a reference to the importance of the fabric in Chanel’s history) to the fact that both fragrances aim at chic elegance but hit well-maintained motherliness, they remind me of each other. There is a sort of relentless trying-to-hard about them both that I find tiresome.
Just as things could get interesting with Beige, just when I think we might go on a bold white floral adventure, it holds up the action to draw my attention back to how refined it is. “Look at me!” it shouts. “Look how hard I’m working at being pretty and polished and perfect!”
***
Rating for Beige is a 2, which is “Perfectly fine, but I’m uninspired.” Why? Because it feels to me like it’s trying very hard to be elegant (i.e., to be something it isn’t). I might have given it a higher rating if I liked the notes better, overall. But as it is, Beige is working with notes that I don’t like enough to overlook that this perfume isn’t doing much for me.
For reviews of Chanel Beige on other blogs, see Bois de Jasmin and Now Smell This. Also, see the wordless review by Undina’s cat Rusty on Undina’s Looking Glass.
So far, I have also written “reviews” of Chanel Exclusif scents Coromandel, 28 La Pausa, Sycomore, and Gardenia.
Images of Doris Day and the Spring 2010 Chanel RTW collection courtesy Catalog.com and Style.com respectively.
Monday was my anniversary, and—just as he always does—my husband had some very funny things to say about my perfume. I love asking for his opinions. He is not “into” scents, so his comments are very free of outside impressions or associations with other perfumes (except those that I make him smell, which he seems to forget immediately). And usually, they make me laugh. In honor of our anniversary, today I’m sharing his thoughts on four fragrances.
Annick Goutal Mon Parfum Cherie
“Sweet. Reminds me of hard rock candy.” (I had to google that. It seems you had to grow up in the midwest to know what hard rock candy is. Funny, I would not have thought of MPC as sweet, but I have a higher tolerance for sweet than he does.)
Missoni for Women
“Am I getting wet dog in this?” I should note that after seeing the look of concern on my face, he said: “Clean wet dog.”
Opus Oils Charm
After smelling repeatedly, he said: “That one is too complex for my nose, even as big as my nose is.”
Byredo La Tulipe
I wore this for our wedding. And although today’s anniversary isn’t our wedding anniversary, I was curious what he would say. His reaction? “This one is fairly pleasant.” After further sniffing: “Smells like the florist. Green.”
Me: Does it remind you of anything else? Do you think you’ve smelled it before?
Mister: Uncertain. Maybe. Man is uncertain.
Well, there you have it. I love that he reverted to the third person there at the end. No lasting perfumed memories made on our wedding day, it seems, but at least it is likely he thought I smelled “fairly pleasant”! And he’s right, of course, about La Tulipe being green.
Do any of you take special note of your partners’ reactions to your perfume?
Image of Double Auricula by Pop’s Plants.
