I feel rusty. I don't at all feel up to the challenge of creating a meaningful description of this perfume. But I have a dilemma: I only have a wee drop left, and when I write about a perfume, I have to wear it. I cannot do it from memory. Often I have the "aged" version on one wrist, to verify the dry down, and the "new" version on the other, so I can re-experience the top notes.
Chaya sent me this sample, and I have ordered another from Ineke (if that tells you anything), but as much as I don't feel up to the challenge, I also don't feel like waiting. Several of you have asked what I think about this one, and all I can say is: It works for me. Oh, how it works.
The notes in Evening Edged in Gold are:
Top: gold osmanthus, plum
Heart: angel's trumpet, saffron, cinnamon bark
Base: midnight candy, leather, woods
Let's start with the obvious: What the heck is "midnight candy?" I actually went so far as to type that into Wikipedia. How am I to know whether that's a thing or not? I've been amazed at some of the ingredients in perfumes, thinking surely they were made up, when they turned out to be real.
But no matter the names of the notes. All that matters here is the experience. To give you an idea, a visual sense, I looked and looked for a suitable still life:
I'm still not sure that does it justice. So the words, the words...Evening Edged in Gold begins with ripened, honeyed fruit, a deep but not overly sweet nectar, lightened considerably by the osmanthus, which, for lack of a better word, is dappled through the top, a whiff here and there. I was surprised, honestly, that Evening Edged in Gold contains only plum, and not a heck of a lot more fruit, particularly peaches. But now that I smell the top notes again, there is a little something there of plum wine. And really, the scent ripens on my wrist, the fruit becoming deeper, the cinnamon bark and floral notes mulled in among the top notes. I find it almost a miracle that I didn't have wasps thrumming around me as soon as I stepped out the door wearing it. This has terrific lasting power, and the longer I have it on, I feel like it actually gets lighter, sweeter. Maybe it's the midnight candy, but this scent seems to work in reverse--and that's not a complaint. No, no way. The leather here is not as pronounced on me as in, say, Femme, which is probably closer to it than any other scent I've tried, and because of this it's better for the warmer weather (or at least the 70s).
Now here's the thing: I think I like it better than Femme. (I ordered the sample so I could be sure. Ahem.) Blaspheme, I know, but it's true. In considering what to say about Evening Edged in Gold, it occurred to me that this is one of those perfumes for which, if you tried it and really loved it, you might be able to give up everything else. I don't say that lightly. I've worn it three different days, and each time I felt like I was wearing something favorite, something me, not unlike a signature sweater or treasured piece of jewelry, yet not in an obvious way. That's unusual for a perfume, I think. We love lots of things, we perfumistas, even in all our self-acclaimed snobbery and persnicketyness. But how often do you put something on and think, "This is just me."? Not often, I imagine, although I'd love to hear in the comments if you have had that sort of experience. Maybe it isn't as uncommon as I imagine.
*images from Ineke and WebMuseum (Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Fruits from the Midi, 1881)