Annick Goutal Eau de Charlotte

This isn't moving along quite as quickly as I'd hoped. I know I said "a week of Annick Goutal," but I'm spending extra time with each scent to really see what I think. More precisely, I'm so frazzled during the day that even though I'm wearing my sample of the day, I generally forget I'm wearing anything at all. I forget to stop and smell the roses, or the bergamot or the jasmine or the amber or freesia or musk or what-have-you.

I tripped over Eau de Charlotte when I was searching for Le Muguet. I was on a fierce search for anything with lily of the valley in it. As I mentioned several posts ago, I became a bit obsessed with these tiny little white bell-shaped flowers. To be honest, I can't say that I've ever smelled actual lily of the valley. It's featured in a couple of fragrances I really enjoyed sampling, L'Aromarine Flowers and Parfums de Nicolai Odalisque, but these are vastly different scents. And although I knew that Eau de Charlotte--with notes of blackcurrant bud, cocoa, mimosa, cocoa, lily of the valley (of course), and vanilla--might not get me any closer to making a real acquaintance with that delicate floral lady, I was desperate, so I decided to give it a shot.

Side note: Just after stumbling across Eau de Charlotte, I scored a bottle of Coty Muguet de Bois. I have the bottle in my possession, but haven't worn it yet. Look for a post in the near future.

So I've admitted to being frazzled and scent-negligent (ahem), but in all seriousness, one thing I like about Annick Goutal fragrances is that I find it difficult to make a snap judgment one way or the other. They're unique without being overly complex, but they still warrant spending a bit of time with them. I liken this to buying a really nice pair of shoes, taking them home and wearing them around the house for a few days before you decide to keep them. They may fit well, they may go with everything in your closet, but you need to decide if you can make them part of your life, or if you just love them in theory and something else would really be more...well, you. I suppose I say this because if you're someone who's looking for a "signature" scent, something that becomes you (in both senses of the word), a...lifetime scent, then I think Annick Goutal is a line to seriously consider.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, because I have a few more scents to share from this line, and right now, I should be talking about Eau de Charlotte. This scent is slightly gourmand without being foodie, as it's fruit and chocolate as concept rather than, uh, fruit and chocolate. The blackcurrant bud really dominates the scent at the top, and that's the only time it's overly sweet to my nose, a bit like an expensive jelly candy covered in dark chocolate. After about thirty minutes or so, the floral notes join the blackcurrant bud, taming the sweetness and softening the edges, but uplifting the fragrance as a whole. They're a bit like backup singers for Aretha Franklin--you hear them in concert with her voice, they lift it a bit higher, they round out the melody, but she's the star of the show to be sure. Like a rhythm, the cocoa heart beats behind this trio. After the opening notes, where it plays as chocolate in expensive candy, it deepens and loses sweetness, developing a delectable bitterness, adding weight to the scent. Vanilla doesn't come in until the very end, and it's a bit like sending in the opening act after the headliner. I suppose it's an easy way to "end" this scent, and it is very soothing and pretty, but it does amp up the food aspect again before it departs once and for all. Like Eau de Camille, this one lasts about three or four hours. After that, I detect a soft, deep vanilla on my skin, but not much else.

I'm not much for fruit and chocolate in my perfume, but this is very well done. At least, I think it's well done. I haven't done too much in the area of gourmand scents, so I cannot compare. But I think if you like these sorts of scents, and you're wondering how you could find a perfume that incorporates these notes into a fragrance for every day, this would be a good place to look. I wouldn't own a bottle, but I bought a miniature instead of a sample, and I wouldn't be surprised if I use all of it.

*photos from Annick Goutal and Wikipedia

Annick Goutal Eau de Camille

I picked these Annick Goutal fragrances specifically because they sounded so pretty for summer, and I picked Eau de Camille both because it sounded pretty and because I wanted to try another honeysuckle scent, so I could contrast it with Le Chevrefeuille. Strictly speaking, neither one of these is the near-soliflore I expected, but I suppose that would be difficult to achieve? Perhaps honeysuckle alone is simply too light and fleeting.

Eau de Camille consists of notes of honeysuckle, syringa (or seringa), ivy, and privet bloom. To be honest, I think this one's an acquired taste. I say that because at first, I didn't care for it much. After the lighthearted juiciness of Le Chevrefeuille, Eau de Camille feels a bit dark. The syringa, known more commonly as lilac, pervades the top and dominates the scent. It's a bit disconcerting and sharp, or at least it was to me, as I was expecting it to be a softer, greener floral. Instead, this fragrance is the floral heart of a forest's depths. There's no wood here, only the lush, dark green undergrowth that holds the moisture in the air, and in that moisture holds the darker purple scent of the lilac.

As you move deeper into the scent, it softens into the sweetness of honeysuckle and loses its darker edge. And after that...I keep thinking I can still smell honeysuckle on my skin, so light as though I'd brushed my inner wrist with one of those small blossoms, but I think that's my imagination going to work. This wonder lasts about three hours on me, four tops.



After five tries, I'm finding Eau de Camille rather intoxicating. The first thirty minutes are really spectacular, although I didn't think so until the third try. Forget the honeysuckle, which quietly ushers out the scent the way an angel might usher the innocent to heaven. The star of the show here is lilac, purple evening sky peeking through the dark green tips of the trees at nightfall. It's an evening scent, deeply relaxing and oddly cool. But beware: if white florals leave you with a headache, you might want to proceed with caution here as well.

*photos from Annick Goutal and The Brooklyn Botanic Gardens

Annick Goutal Le Chevrefeuille

The summer heat is taking its sweet time arriving this year. Daytime temperatures have been in the upper 70s or low 80s, and the air is much drier than usual, making for lovely breezy days with bright blue skies. Funny thing is, I'm itching for the heat to arrive so I can seriously test drive some perfume. I suppose I should cool my heels. When the heat and humidity hit, they'll probably hit full force, and my enthusiasm will wither right along with the rest of me.

One thing I know for sure, I plan to face summer armed with a bottle of Le Chevrefeuille. This lovely has notes of honeysuckle blossom, honeysuckle vine, narcissus, jasmine, and lemon tree petit grain. I must admit, it wasn't anything like I expected. As a honeysuckle fragrance, I expected a softer, sweeter treatment of these delicate white and yellow blossoms, a scent akin to the taste of the nectar of these flowers. I found it much brighter and herbaceous, lemony at the top, with the sweet floral underneath appearing only as the scent softened over time on my skin. Truly, to my nose Le Chevrefeuille has the appeal of a floral tea with a refreshing squeeze of lemon. In a strange way it reminds me a bit of Ormonde Jayne's Champaca, another scent I love, although they have nothing in common. I could see transitioning from the cozy sunniness of that scent, which has the depth to anchor it through rainy and sometimes cool March and April, into the sharper herbal quality of Le Chevrefeuille in May and June.

What's also wonderful about Le Chevrefeuille is the fact that it's almost impossible to over-apply! I tend to err on the side of great caution when I apply a perfume, especially for the first time, and with this one I kept going back for more, but more never seemed to be too much. I think that's a quality that cannot be underestimated in a perfume for summer, as a little spray of scent can be just the thing to take the edge off the heat. It has medium lasting power, so if you want to spray yourself every four hours or so, no problem.

For those of you out there looking for a sweeter, muskier treatment of honeysuckle, I would suggest trying Calypso's Chevrefeuille. Or try them both! Life is too short to limit oneself, or one's perfume samples...

*photo from Annick Goutal

Saturday, Here Again...

Here's a typical Saturday morning chez Sweet Diva:

Bob (singing to Chicago's tune): Saturday, here again...

Me: It's not "Saturday, here again..."; it's (sings) "Saturday, in the park..."

Bob (singing): Saturday, in the park...

Me: Yes!

Bob: That doesn't make any sense. (Singing again) Saturday, here again...

Well, whatever way you sing it, it is indeed Saturday. I've been making blog plans, so I thought I'd share them with you: Next week, I'll be sampling all Annick Goutal fragrances, ones I picked because I thought they would be pretty for summer. The following week, I'll be posting about perfume oils, for people who are bothered by alcohol in perfumes, and for people looking for something scented that might last longer in the upcoming summer heat. After that, I'll be revisiting vetiver. I highly suspect I'll find one I like this year!

Beyond all that, who knows what might happen? I'm also working to put together my summer reading list. I think this is an old habit from being in school, when summer used to offer more time for leisure reading. (I've been out of school a long time...old habits clearly die hard.) Now summer simply offers the illusion of more time, what with the days being longer. I've got my two book club books ahead of me (March, by Gwendolyn Brooks--my pick--and The Old Wine Shades, by Martha Grimes. I'm not a mystery or series reader, but it should be fun...) I also still need to finish American Pastoral by Philip Roth, which I've been working through slowly, only sometimes with interest. Funny, because I got through The Human Stain in three days. I could not put it down. And American Pastoral is quite good, but it's heavy and rather slow at points. Reading The Human Stain was like reading a jazz tune. I'm going to try to put together my list with books I own but haven't read. We'll see if I succeed! Still, if you have any suggestions...

I'm off to get a cup of coffee and enjoy this beautiful day. Hope you all are enjoying it, too!

Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb

I must tell the truth. Something made me want to hate Flowerbomb from the very start. Even though several perfume bloggers love it--and lord knows I am no snob--I wanted to turn my nose up at it. And I almost succeeded. For one thing, this is the kind of perfume you apply and then think, "God help the person who has to ride on the elevator/sit next to me in a meeting/stand in line at Starbucks with me this morning." It made me snicker a little. Ha, ha, Flowerbomb, I thought. I've got you seriously pegged.

Except. Well.

I'm not saying I started liking it or anything, but I did sort of notice that it was somewhat pleasant smelling. Kind of. That is, if you completely ignored the overwhelming wafts of rose and jasmine all sort of mixed up and made sweeter by the freesia. Overwhelming in a soft way. Cozy pink cashmere blanket kind of way. Not that I like cozy pink cashmere blankets, because I don't. They're very pink and girly. In a soft way.

I mean, I'm girly, but come on.

Just because my thoughts wandered a little away from the marketing launch meeting I was attending--er, running--just because I started thinking to myself, "Hm, you know, today isn't so bad for a Tuesday. The weather's been so nice. I should relax a little," in between thoughts of "Oh my god, I'm sure they're hating my perfume right now. I'm suffocating every man in this room. I just know it!" doesn't mean Flowerbomb has some magic spell that it was working on me. Some flowery hocus pocus. I'm immune to that sort of thing. Even if I surreptitiously...uh...accidentally sniffed my wrist a few times during the meeting, pretending to remove a stray eyelash that was tickling me.

Look, let's get this straight: I pretty much go around feeling like a sexy number all the time, so I don't think it was the perfume. That's all I'm saying. And so what if the dry down is slightly addictive? So what if you might start thinking to yourself that you can make it through the heady beginning (heady yet sort of refreshingly dark...is that tea?), that you can wade through gardens packed full of freesia, rose, jasmine, and orchid, just to get to the end, this patchouli for a hippie who's not only rich but also refined?

So what if you turn on a little Janis and spray on a little perfume and pretend you're at Woodstock, only wearing an Etro halter dress and not muddy and tripping on the brown acid?

Oh, hush anyway. The Who is on next!

*photo from Neiman Marcus

Thoughts on May and Other Things

No sample today. I've been wearing several things, trying to decide what to talk about next: The Different Company Bergamote, Comptoir Sud Pacfique Vanille Amande, Victor & Rolf Flowerbomb. I also snuck in a day with La Chasse, from my sample vial. Which one will I choose to write about next? You shall have to tune in and see.

What else? Should we talk about my new obsession with Annick Goutal? It started first with a post on Monkey Posh about the latest release, Neroli. Neroli is one of my favorite notes. She also mentions Le Chevrefeuille. They both sounded lovely, and I trust Ms. Parisjasmal's taste, so I went trolling for lists of notes on other scents as well. How did I miss all these pretty fragrances?

And then I clicked over to Perfume Smellin' Things, where Colombina is giving us a full week of lily of the valley reviews. Lily of the valley is my other new obsession! And what did Colombina offer me? A review of an Annick Goutal lily of the valley fragrance, Le Muguet! Yes! But it's a limited edition! I clicked straight through to overstockperfume.com, only to find they no longer have it. To comfort myself, I ordered a mess of Annick Goutal samples. One has lily of the valley in there somewhere as a note. But it won't be the same. I suppose I could try the Caron, since I don't have the heliotrope issue that plagues Colombina, but not yet. I'm going to pout a little longer about not getting what I want.

I think maybe I've used more exclamation points in this post than I've ever used in my life, total.

And finally, I love May. May is now one of my favorite months. By mid-month a lot of the glorious spring flowers--the dogwoods, the azaleas, the Japanese magnolias, the Bradford pears--are gone, and so it can feel like the end of spring in a way. When I lived in Texas I hated May, because it was as though nature simply turned up all the dials in the sauna, the only relief being those tornado-alley thunderstorms that make you want to get in the bathtub with the weatherband radio and a pillow to cover your head. But in Atlanta, May still has some cooler days. The trees are bouquets of fresh and varied greens. The leaves are still so full of youth and vigor, they appear so perfect as to be made of wax. My husband keeps predicting the hottest summer ever for us here, but I'm not listening. I'm in the moment with blue skies and some days in the 70s.

And so I leave you with this:

The Trees

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

-Philip Larkin

*poem from Collected Poems, Ed. Anthony Thwaite

Amouage Ciel pour Femme

Folks, I have been wearing Amouage Ciel pour Femme for three days now, and I can come to only one conclusion: my sample is bad. Mmm hm. That has to be the problem.

Look at this list of notes:
Top: gardenia, cyclamen, violet leaves
Heart: peach blossom, water lily, rose, jasmine
Base: amber, musk, cedarwood, sandalwood, frankincense

By all rights, this should be gorgeous, right? Now, I don't read the list of notes before I sample on the first day, so truth be told, I just thought this was one of those scents that's interesting upon application and then disappears. But after I read the notes, that seemed impossible. Ciel should not be so fleeting. So the next day, I was less cautious in my application. There at the top was a strange treatment of gardenia, a bit dirty and peppery, but very light. And then--it all but disappears! If I press my nose right against my wrist--we're talking skin-to-skin contact here--I can smell something. I think.

Oh, who am I kidding? There's nothing there. I mean nothing. No rose, no jasmine, no amber, no frankincense...none of it. Boo! Hiss! My sample is not a decant, but a carded spray sample produced by Amouage. All I can guess is that I got a bad one, or that it was somehow damaged by heat, or it's just old. Sigh. This isn't a bad review--it's no review at all. Please, someone, tell me: am I missing anything great here? Is it worth getting another sample?

On to another, I guess.

In another note, I still have not received my bottle of La Chasse. I ordered it on April 25. On May 1, Aedes wrote and said they were temporarily out of stock, but that my order should ship the following week. Today is May 12, and I haven't heard a peep or received a box, so I canceled my order, including samples (I think we all agree I have enough of those, anyway). And then I promptly went to Neiman's site and ordered it from them. And I made sure it said "In Stock" before I pressed Order!

*photo from LusciousCargo

One Year!

I almost forgot: Today is Sweet Diva's one year anniversary! All my best to you Friends and Lurkers out there who visit. I hope the coming year on Sweet Diva leaves you happy, entertained, and sweet smelling!

*photo of lovely Diva, the blog's namesake, taken by yours truly

Bond No. 9 Bryant Park

Bond No. 9 is the parent house to what is perhaps one of my most loathed fragrances: Chinatown. I'm sure some of you out there will never forgive me for hating it the way I do, but there it is. But I'm not here to talk about that today. I'm here to talk about a Bond I actually like.

Truth be told, I've enjoyed all the other Bond fragrances I've tried: Fire Island (fun, but no keeper), West Side (pretty rose), and West Broadway (soft and incense-y and if memory serves, my favorite of the bunch). Truthfully, though, I have no right to go calling any Bond No. 9 fragrance a "favorite." I have a whole stash of other Bonds to try, and as I've matured as a perfume fan, I've found it's better to not to rush into these things. Why? Because I'll go around saying things like, "West Broadway's my favorite!" and then I'll try something else, like Bryant Park. (Of course, I think I tried not to rush into things when I reviewed West Side, too, and then went on to gush about it. Let that be a little history lesson for us all.)

I would have to be a sucker for Bryant Park right off the bat, though, because it has two of my favorite notes, rose and lily of the valley, along with patchouli, raspberry, rhubarb, pink pepper, and amber. I really love that the pepper in this is so evident, how it gives the patchouli a sophisticated edge, compliments the bit of sharpness the rhubarb offers, freshens the tart raspberry. I love it with the rose, the way I wanted to love it in The Different Company's Rose Poivree. In that scent I found the pepper so overwhelming, it was like a practical joke where someone handed me a freshly cut bloom they'd tainted with black pepper and laughed as I inhaled, expecting lush rose only to....ACHOO! find pepper.

I like this one better than the other rose in the family, West Side, which is quite pretty but has none of the character of Bryant Park. Maybe I'm not a Charlotte after all. Maybe I am a Carrie!

But I won't say it's my favorite. Not yet, anyway.

(Oh, but if you love this one, just a little reminder that Fragrances & More has free shipping on all their Bond No. 9 orders, and they have such nice people there!)

*photo from Fragrances&More

Keiko Mecheri A Fleur de Peau

Keiko Mecheri and I have had a rocky relationship. I dabbled a bit with Osmanthus in the very beginning, that sweet morning wedding of a fragrance, then fell hard and early for Loukhoum, a heady, woodsy rose-vanilla incense that made me feel like the earth mother I most certainly am not. I had a mere whiff of Gourmandises before I handed my sample off to a friend, only later to wonder whether I made a mistake. And then there was White Petals, a sickening liquid candy scent that still makes my teeth ache when I think of it, and Sanguine, a bi-polar tribute to an unusual and delicious (when it's in the right mood) citrus note.

I relate this complicated history because my experience with A Fleur de Peau has done nothing to simplify it. Last Friday, as is my custom, I applied the perfume just before leaving for work. By the time I actually arrived at the office, I was so completely overwhelmed by harsh cinnamon-y spice that I went straight to the restroom without stopping by my desk first so I could wash it off. Lucky for me, this scent was stubborn. After I'd soaped up and scrubbed for a good couple of minutes, I dried my arms and made my way to my desk. As I logged on to the computer and then began answering email messages, I caught a whiff of a warm, leathery sweetness drifting up from my wrist. I pressed my nose against the delicate skin inside my arm and sniffed. Mmmmmmm.

A Fleur de Peau contains notes of Russian leather, civet, mandarin, night blooming jasmine, rare spices, and basalmic notes. The phrase itself, "a fleur de peau," translates into something like "close to the skin" (rather than the literal-seeming "skin flower," although I suppose that works too). This scent is not exactly one of those "your skin but better" scents that might evoke this expression, but it does have a certain sensuality and warmth. When I wore this again on Saturday, I was more careful with my application, applying it only to my wrists. Leather dominates the scent, supple and clean. This scent to me is more reminiscent of the smell of a loved one, warmed by the sun or a fire. The jasmine is also evident, though less as a floral note than as...well, for lack of a better word (or phrase), almost a sort of body odor. Not the kind that makes you want to hand someone a stick of Right Guard, mind you, but simply a personal odor. The spices and the basalmic notes add a bit of pungency, giving the scent a "lived in" feel. It's a day on vacation, maybe, somewhere hot and dusty, walking through a bazaar of spices and treats, then retiring to a balcony at nightfall.

This is not the sort of scent I want to wear (although it is nice to wear), but more a scent I want to smell on someone else. Call me crazy, but I think this would smell as great on a man as on a woman. And so I guess I'll file this one in the "KM--good" category, along with Loukhoum and the elusive Gourmandises. Just be careful with the application, or you'll go from smelling like skin to wanting to jump out of your skin.

*photo from LusciousCargo

L'Aromarine Flowers

***This is my 200th post on Sweet Diva! Yea!

I love hidden treasure, and as far as I'm concerned, L'Aromarine Flowers EDT is a hidden treasure for the following reasons:

A) The scent is a simple, elegant, and refreshing blend of jasmine, gardenia, honeysuckle, and lily. To be honest, what I get from Flowers is more of what I expected and wanted to get from Creed's Spring Flower. Now, mind you, there's no complex development here, no late-stage mind-blowing whiff of jasmine. Actually, there's no development at all: It goes on as a lovely bouquet and pretty much stays that way. This would be another option (La Chasse being another..My bottle is on backorder. Grr.) for people who want to try white florals but fear the overwhelming power and possible headaches that can accompany some of these scents. For an EDT, it has pretty good lasting power as well--it stayed with me through the work day on both days I've worn it.

B) The bottles are precious. They have nifty art deco style labels and would look lovely on any dressing table. The first picture here is the 1.6 oz. bottle. The second one is the 3.3 oz.

C) The price is unbelievably right, at $18.00 for 1.6 oz. or $23.00 for 3.3 oz. Your wallet won't shriek when you go to pay for this one!

L'Aromarine is out of Paris, and the story is that they're able to produce quality products at fair prices because they don't spend a lot of money on marketing and advertising. Lucky for us! At these prices, and with those adorable labels, it's hard not to buy more than one. I'm intrigued by the Cherry Blossom scent in particular. Has anyone out there tried it?

This might not be a special occasion perfume, but it would be wonderful for summer. It wears off enough that you could easily spritz yourself again with it after work, if you're heading out to dinner or just need a refreshing lift after a tough day. And the price is right, so you don't need to worry about waste. It's always good to have some fun fragrances around (another favorite of mine is Jovan Pink Musk), and this one's quite elegant, as fun goes.

*photo from b-glowing.com

Creed Spring Flower

When we last visited...well, me, I was having quite the conundrum. What would I sample for my post La Chasse post? There I was, poised over the edge of the box (you remember my Indiana Jones metaphor, surely), peering down into the dark abyss.

Okay, not dark. But still, I was peering.

Really, these things are so simple. It's spring, the weather is gorgeous, and there before me is a hot pink bottle with the name "Spring Flower." The universe always points us where we need to go, so I went.

Creed Spring Flower was created in 1951, apparently as a signature scent for the lovely and timeless fashion icon Audrey Hepburn. The notes are melon, peach, apple, jasmine, rose, musk, and ambergris. Of course, I love Audrey Hepburn, and interestingly, this seemingly uncomplicated floral has depths one might not expect, much like the woman herself. To be honest, I don't care too much for the opening. Maybe I'm as weary of fruity florals as the next person given the current trends--not that any of those trendy releases are on par with Spring Flower. The top notes here are a sweet, delicate burst of fruit, newly ripe and freshly juiced. Literally, it smells more like something I would enjoy drinking than wearing. Some may find it refreshing, but it's a bit much for me. The fruit lasts a good long while, too, so it takes time to get around to the good stuff.

I put this on around 3:00 Saturday afternoon for the first time, and by 6:00 I was ready to be done with it. I felt a bit like a high-end fruit cocktail. I considered the Audrey angle, and decided although it had been created for her, she surely couldn't have worn it much. It goes directly against her clean, elegant style. (Probably she wore it every day, but what do I know?) It's a pretty fragrance, light and sweet, in my opinion (at the time, especially) lovely for a young woman.

The magic happened later in the evening, around 8:00 or 9:00 o'clock. We were sitting on the couch watching a movie when the smell of jasmine caught my attention. I don't think I have ever been so entranced by that particular note, but the blend here made it nearly impossible to keep my wrist away from my nose. I couldn't stop sniffing. Even Bob couldn't get enough of the scent. Every time I raised my wrist, he'd ask for a sniff too. It smelled exactly, exactly like the night-blooming jasmine here in Georgia, only a bit more musky and at the same time more delicate. Now that's a fragrance I could picture Audrey Hepburn wearing, delicate and mysterious, lovely.

Just why oh why can't the whole development of this one be as lovely as the end? While the musk and ambergris tone the fruit down a bit in the middle, it's still very fruity. I noticed little rose--maybe I should stop here and say, I was so taken by the drydown that I've worn this for three days straight--and really, the jasmine seems to appear after the fragrance has worn away altogether. Or perhaps I just somehow manage to block my senses until it arrives. The fruit has grown less bothersome to me as I've worn this, but I don't think for me that it's bottle-worthy, or even decant-worthy. But if you're looking for a genuinely beautifully done fruity floral, you should try this one.

*photo from NeimanMarcus.com

How do you choose?

While I was on hiatus, I didn't do much sampling. In fact, I stuck for the most part with a mere handful of perfumes, several of which would make veteran perfume lovers shudder: Clinique Happy Heart, SJP Lovely, Prescriptives Calyx, and Stella. Deciding what to wear seemed tiring, so unless an urge for a particular perfume struck me, I stuck with these. I wore my beloved Iris Poudre twice, and one day I wore Mandarine Mandarin (the more I wear that one, the more I love it). I wore Anne Pliska one blustery cold day just a couple of weeks ago.

More than once I pulled out the box o'samples and peered into it like Indiana Jones looking down into a dank, dark temple full of snakes. I'd comb through the little plastic bags and tiny glass vials, hoping something might spark my interest, but nothing did. I don't think I took a vial out of a baggie (wow, that sounds illegal) or popped the cap off one thing. I'd just stick the box back on the shelf and reach for the Happy Heart. It's one of the few full bottles I have that's not in its original box, so clearly sheer laziness played a large part in determining what I wore.

But, as I noted in my last post, this week I took down the box o'samples, and La Chasse waved its tiny arms (or wings, if you will) and cried out, "Over here! Remember me? We met last year! I think we could really hit it off, if you'd just take me out again!" And so I did. I pulled the little black plastic applicator out of the vial and took a whiff. Right away, I knew it would be trouble...and I knew it would be forever.

So now that my interest is rekindled, while I wait for my package from Aedes, I need to get sampling. When I walk past the sample vial of La Chasse sitting on the bathroom shelf, I do everything I can to ignore it. I turn my head away and sort of "la la la la I can't hear you" when I walk past it, because it yells at me. It demands that I put some on now. Even if I've already applied some, it thinks I need more. Even as I write this, I can hear it in the other room, knocking around and making a nuisance of itself. It's also in cahoots with La Chasse Extreme, which I stupidly took out and applied yesterday, and then left on the shelf right next to La Chasse EDT.

"But I have this whole box o'samples," I tell them. "These others need my attention just as much as you do!" But oh, when I face that box! I paw through the bags. The vials click lightly against one another. That sound used to be music to my ears. Now it's pure torture. Which one of you should I wear? Lord, the last thing I need is to open up another La Chasse! But then, I don't want a Chinatown on my hands, either. I mean that literally. It took weeks for the skin to grow back, I scrubbed so hard trying to get it off. (Incidentally, I've found something that removes perfume: waterproof sunscreen. Wipe some of that over your perfume and it's gone. I learned it the hard way--I had on perfume I liked--but it's a valuable lesson for another time.) Bah!

If only I'd developed a system. I mean, it's not like I didn't try. You remember the roses. If you were with me last summer, you remember the vetivers (which I never finished; I still have about ten vetiver samples waiting for me in there), you remember the vanillas. Several times, unbeknownst to you all, I categorized items by perfumer, and then scrambled them up again and categorized them by possible seasons. I tried to order them by dominant notes after one particularly bad day at work and completely overwhelmed myself. That was how I ended up with box o'samples. Everything I'd already tried I put in one box, and everything I had yet to try, I put in another. I got this nutty idea that I would just reach in every day and wear whatever fate set up for me to select. How exciting! Every day an adventure!

More like, every day, throwing back whatever I'd caught, like a disgruntled fisherman. Amouage Eau d'Amouage? That sounds like something you order from Avon! Laura Tonatto 24.8? That was discontinued! What if I really like it? Why did they send it to me anyway? Chypre de Coty? I'm not worthy! Not ready for this one yet! Frederic Malle Noir Epices? But it's spring! This would be better for fall!

On and on it goes. And what's coming along with my bottle of La Chasse? Seven new samples, that's what! I'll be in a home by the end of summer. I can almost guarantee it. I'll be the one in the corner, rocking back and forth, muttering to myself quietly: "I could wear a Bond. I haven't worn a Bond in a while. But which Bond? Eau de New York? New Haarlem? Eau de Noho? New York Fling?" The attendant will spray me lightly with Happy Heart to calm my nerves, and lead me back to my room.

*photo of the dreaded box o'samples, taken by yours truly

Let's Pretend I Never Went Anywhere...

...but that I'm back from where I never went anyway. Probably all my loyal readers, both of them, are gone now. Sigh.

I can't say what took me away, but I can say what brought me back: L'Artisan La Chasse aux Papillons, in the EDT form: tuberose, linden blossom, jasmine, orange blossom. A supremely delicate white floral, this was one of my very first samples from last year. I was digging around in my box o'samples early this week, pulled this out, and thought "Oh! I remember when I got this! I must wear this!" Last year, it was just pretty. This year, it's the intricate lace of tiny, fragile blossoms in springtime. It's light and feminine, a non-headache-inducing white floral that's safe enough to wear to work and romantic enough to wear out on a date.

Crazy when I look over at my bookshelf full of perfume bottles to think that I picked up this habit just one year ago! And soon, Sweet Diva will turn one year old as well...how could I not keep going? Good news for me, bad news for my bank account. My bottle of La Chasse should arrive any day now. And of course, my samples!

*photo from Aedes

Second Adolescence

I'm too young for a mid-life crisis. Universe willing, at 37, I'm hopefully not near the halfway mark of my life. That said, the universe has apparently decided to grant me a second adolescence.

And what should be the hallmark for youth's second coming? A sports car? A boob job? A face plumped with collagen and smoothed with Botox? Going back to school and hanging out in crappy apartments with people half my age, discussing Richard Rorty over cheap beer and weak merlot? Quitting my job, running off to Europe and deciding to take up painting?

Some of these things I find more acceptable than others, but apparently the universe has something else in mind for me.

Braces.

Yes. That's right. I need braces. The universe gave me a pass on this the first time around, as certain key people felt it was more important to argue over who should pay than to take action. And as a geeky, chubby child, really, that was fine with me. Why add insult to injury? My teeth were straight and even, their only flaw a small gap between my front teeth. But it seems now, after all these years of giving me no trouble, my bottom teeth are partaking in a game of Twister, turning and shifting, collapsing inward and thereby changing my bite, causing my upper teeth to flare outward ever so slightly...for now.

And so I have to visit the orthodontist in the next few weeks to see about the braces I will likely have to wear for a year-and-a-half to two years. For the record, I'm still chubby and geeky. And I'm dreading this as much as any thirteen-year-old girl would. I'm trying to think of the payoff: the second half of life with beautiful, straight, gap-less teeth.

I'm negotiating for the Europe thing, too. Just in case.

Keiko Mecheri Sanguine

Here's what Wikipedia has to say about "sanguine":

"Sanguine indicates the personality of an individual with the temperament of blood, the season of spring (wet and hot), and the element of air. A person who is sanguine is generally optimistic, cheerful, even-tempered, confident, rational, popular, and fun-loving. They can be daydreamy to the point of not accomplishing anything and impulsive, acting on whims in an unpredictable fashion. Sanguines usually have a lot of energy, but have a problem finding a way to direct the energy. This also describes the manic phase of a bipolar disorder."

Here's what I have to say about Sanguine, the perfume from Keiko Mecheri:

First, the notes differ depending on where you look. Luscious Cargo mentions blood orange, spices, and white florals. The Keiko Mecheri site (and they should know, right?) lists blood orange rind, petit grain, and musk. I find the last sentence of the Wikipedia definition most interesting, because it reflects this fragrance perfectly: manic or bipolar.

The image I get in my head while wearing Sanguine is that picture of the woman they always show students in Psych 101, or the HR shows to employees when they conduct any sort of training at all, the drawing that appears to be an old, witchy looking woman or a beautiful young lady, depending on how you look at it. Sanguine has a couple of personalities: one is an industrial-strength citrus air freshener for commercial use, while the other is a spicy deep citrus with undertones of white florals...in other words, a perfume.

I'm a huge fan of neroli or orange blossom in a fragrance, and so the blood orange note in this scent was intriguing to me. It's quite potent in this mix, overly so, and I'm guessing it's the oil from the rind, that bitterness that sometimes permeates the lighter side of citrus, that adds to the industrial feel of this scent. It's definitely orange, orange with a large stick. Yet sometimes it moves from industrial air freshener into candied rind (overly sweet) and then into a deeper spice I wish would stick around. I definitely detect a white floral element in this, even if the Keiko Mecheri site doesn't list it. The most depressing part of this is that if this part of the scent would stick around, it could give Serge Lutens Fleur d'Oranger a run for its money, or at least be its musky counterpart. Catching those whiffs is like catching a glimpse of the beautiful woman in the picture for just a second--when you're fixated too much on the old woman, the beautiful lady refuses to appear.

*photo from LusciousCargo

Spring Fever

Sorry for all the changes to the look the last few days. I wanted to do something new for spring...I think I've settled on this simple green number.

Update: Okay, in IE7, this template was all greens. Now I'm looking at it in Firefox, and everything's gone blue. Sigh.

Caron Parfum Sacre

Edited 2/27/07
For the last week, I've been wearing Caron Parfum Sacre. (Forgive the missing accent aigu. I am lazy. If I weren't lazy, I would post more often.) Frankly, venturing into the world of Caron made me a little nervous. Perfume fans love to talk about the dark undertones, the special character of any Caron juice. Possibly I'm too young (as a perfume fan, anyway) to "get" this, or possibly Parfum Sacre is missing the undertone that other Caron perfumes share.

Or possibly this is what all these people mean by "dark": nostalgic. Trust me, if I let you sniff this first, and then I told you that it was made in the year 1990, you'd never believe me. I wonder, too, if you'd believe that Caron, on their very own site, classifies this perfume as "Oriental Spicy." The notes are myrrh, musk, vanilla, rose, jasmine, pepper, cinnamon and coriander. Sounds spicy enough, and possibly Oriental, and yet...

Maybe I've been ruined by the heavier spice of fragrances like Opium or Citta di Kyoto, both of which I love, both of which are far heavier on the spice. But then again, maybe not quite. All week I thought about this perfume. It's the sort of scent that requires a great deal of contemplation, and still, all I could come up with was this: the silk lining of an old purse. When all is said and done, that's what I smell: a faint, spicy powder, elegant and ethereal, a dream of travel to exotic lands, a memory trapped in fine smooth fabric flecked there with tobacco and stained here by an oily smudge of lipstick.

It's the silk lining of an evening bag once carried by Katherine Hepburn, say, when she was dating Howard Hughes. I've found it in a thrift shop, plucked it from the shelf, clicked open the jeweled latch and inhaled. Amazing to think this fragrance was released into a world of Poisons and Fendis and Beautifuls, this fragrance for an old soul. It's hauntingly lovely. My thanks to Angela for sharing it with me.

2/27/07: I suppose my admiration for this perfume isn't clear. I didn't go on and on about Caron and the development of the notes because that isn't what I found striking about this perfume. Plenty of other blogs can offer you information about Caron. What I wanted to share was the impression this scent left on me, and it was this: When I think about the silk lining of an evening bag, I think about a woman reaching her hand inside the bag to grab a lipstick or a compact or a handkerchief, her wrist rubbing her scent against the silk lining as she searches, leaving a memory there, something intimate. I wonder what song the orchestra is playing, what the dress that matches the bag looks like. I wonder if the evening brought the owner of the bag love or disappointment, celebration or despair. This is what I meant when I said "hauntingly lovely." It's the sort of scent a person leaves behind that makes others yearn a little.

I'm no Caron expert; I don't know what comes from an urn and what's readily available, but I do know you can find Parfum Sacre at Fragrance Net.

*photo of Parfum Sacre from parfumscaron.com; photo of Katherine Hepburn from Yahoo

be becker.eshaya

Occasionally I try a fragrance, and I refrain from saying anything about it. Sometimes this happens because a scent loved by perfume fans far and wide turns into something horrible on my skin. (Iris Silver Mist, for example. It makes me smell like a mannequin.) Sometimes this happens because I'm sure as soon as I say I like something, I'll hear quiet, derisive laughter coming from the far corners of the perfume-blogging world. It took me a long time to "out" my love for Benefit's Maybe Baby, and I only did so after another perfume blogger confessed her thing for it first.

But my cranky posts from earlier today probably tell you what sort of day I had--the sort of day where finally, when you get to the end of it, you're ready to say what's on your mind, consequences be damned. And so: I think be is downright pretty. There. I said it. It's pink dress and sandals pretty. It's mimosa (as in OJ and champagne) pretty. It's bouquet full of flowers pretty. With notes of Italian mandarin, pink peony, lily of the valley, rose damascena, and white musk, it's Monet's sunset pretty. The mandarin adds sparkle; the peony, a sweet undertone; the lily of the valley, a hint of freshness that's slightly green; the rose and musk, a bit of powder and sophistication in the drydown. be is a girl's fragrance made for a woman, lighthearted and simple, a memory of carefree days. Not beautiful, not stunning, not a masterpiece.

Pretty.

*photo from beautyintuition.com

Olympics...or Treadmill?

**CURMUDGEON ALERT** Generally I try to be positive, but I'm feeling awfully grumpy about this skincare stuff.

I decided to try Liz Earle skincare after I read about it in February Vogue. Mainly they focused on SuperBalm, but I was impressed enough by the article to check out her basic skincare. I ordered a trial set for dry skin and some muslin cloths.

The cleanser is thick and smells amazing. In fact, that's the best thing about these products: the smell. I applied the cleanser and used the hot muslin cloth (the "hot" and "polish" in the "Cleanse & Polish Hot Cloth Cleanser") to remove makeup. My skin got a bit red and splotchy (this is touted as "safe" for sensitive skin), but not itchy. I used the toner and the moisturizer. Lovely smell, red but not itchy. Over several weeks my skin was more moisturized, smooth and soft, but the redness never really calmed down.

And then the pimples came. I don't get pimples. Ever. But I got two using this Liz Earle, the kind that don't really show but that you can feel every time you move a muscle in your face. The kind that hurt. Grr.

Red as a stop sign and covered in pimples--not my idea of a good time, really. And that wasn't the only thing that bothered me about Liz Earle skincare. The moisturizer didn't have an SPF. On the one hand, this does streamline one's beauty routine. I see the logic. But when I went to her site to see if she offered an alternative with SPF, I found this little quote that really set me off:

"Sunscreens are unnecessary in most skincare, including cleansers, toners, night-time moisturisers and treatments such as face masks. Sunscreens are also not necessary during the daytime in winter, but in warmer months it is important to protect skin from the sun’s rays."

People! In this day and age, how responsible is it to make the claim that you don't need sunscreen year-round? And even if it turned out to be true, even if scientists announced tomorrow that you didn't need sunscreen during winter, how could you have hurt yourself by wearing it?

Liz Earle is not a doctor, not a dermatologist, not a scientist. She's a "specialist in botanical ingredients." And I dare say, I trust my dermatologist much more than a woman touting botanical skincare.

Since the Vogue article, I've seen several reviews of this skincare pop up on beauty blogs, and it garners raves. While I think it has its pluses, I don't think it's rave worthy. It really wasn't any better than anything else I've used. The cleanser cleansed, the toner made my face wet and made me feel better about prepping for moisture, and the moisturizer...moisturized. Nothing wrong with that at all (not everyone will turn red and get zits from these products), but what's so great about it?

Nothing.

And finally, I'm not going to tell you to buy skincare from someone who gives such awful "expert" advice as "don't wear sunscreen in winter."

I set out in search of something else. I started to cruise the Internet for trial skincare sets. I found no less than twenty-two (22!) trial skin-care sets for dry and/or sensitive skin. Actually, I found more than that--these were the ones under $80. Mind you, if you're in the market for new skin care, expensive or otherwise, kits are the best way to go. Not all kits, particularly the more expensive ones, are trial-sized. Many have full-sized products that last for months. But as I surveryed my findings, I started to wonder: How many of these are just a cleanser, a toner, and a moisturizer? How many of these kits will just do the same basic thing for your face?

Granted, we all have things we like and dislike. We like gel cleansers better than creamy cleansers, or bars better than liquid, or toners with alcohol better than toners without alcohol. I'm not trying to dictate here what people should and should not like. But I am asking people everywhere to stop and think: How are any of these basic products any different from each other?

I decided to go to the expert. I decided to go to the dermatologist. My dermatologist does not have her own skincare line. She gave me a printout with recommended products, as follows:

Neutrogena
Basis
Purpose
Cetaphil
Moisturel (lotion)

That's the same information I got from a dermatologist in Texas over 15 years ago. Could it be a vast conspiracy, or is this simple common sense?

I had a few more questions this time around, too. After all, I'm 15 years older.

What about wrinkles? For me (37, minimal facial sun damage, never smoked), an over-the-counter retinol, such as Neutrogena Healthy Skin Anti-Wrinkle Cream. In five to ten years, I may want to consider prescription Retin-A. (Mind you, I'm not surgically inclined.) In fact, she said prescription creams are just about the only thing you can use to see dramatic results, if that's what you need.

What about an eye cream? Well, she says SPF is good, but a special cream for the eye area isn't necessarily warranted. WHAT? I was inclined to disagree. She said it certainly wouldn't hurt, and she approved the copper peptide ingredients in my Neutrogena Visibly Firm as safe for my sensitive skin.

SPF IS GOOD. I asked her if I needed to wear SPF in winter, just to see her reaction to such stupid advice. I thought she might knock me off the exam table. The answer was a resounding YES.

How about toner? I love a good toner. She said toner is unnecessary, but like the eye cream, it can't hurt...unless you have dry, sensitive skin and you use a toner with a high percentage of alcohol.

The point of all this? (This isn't me talking to the dermatologist anymore...this is me talking to you.) I love a pretty package and an expensive cream as much as the next person. I love Clarins, and their stuff isn't cheap. I've tried La Mer, and considered buying a full jar. I'm not going to get up on my high horse and demand that everyone stop spending money, stop having any fun. But ask yourselves: At what point does it stop? When I was looking at my list of all those skincare kits, I became overwhelmed. I kept thinking, "What if it doesn't work?" And then, "How many of these things am I going to have to buy?"

I'm as easily duped by articles and rave reviews as the next person. My dupe could be someone else's winner, but I'm sticking with science this time.

*photo from Amazon.com

Skincare Basics

I've decided to cancel the Skincare Olympics. My reasons for doing so reach far and wide, but I'll try to sum them up as best I can in my next post. In doing so, I'll give you a few mini-reviews. I'll start with the basics, the items I used through the fall and into January. Here's what we've got:

Eucerin Redness Relief Soothing Cleanser. This was an item I selected from the list for my skin type in Leslie Baumann's Skin Type Solution. I'm on my second tube. As far as the redness relief goes, this stuff is tops. It's very soothing, an it also gets my skin clean. The downside is that it's not very moisturizing, and I'm still seeing a little breakout action now and again along the jawline.

Cetaphil Cleansing Lotion. I've had a love-hate relationship with Cetaphil going on 15 years now. It's moisturizing, never drying, and easy on sensitive skin. Problem: depending on how much makeup you wear (or what type), it doesn't always get skin clean. I don't wear a lot of makeup, but sometimes I find I have to wash twice...doesn't that defeat the purpose of not stripping the skin? Still, it's the best bang for the buck if you have dry, sensitive skin.

Eucerin Anti-Wrinkle Sensitive Skin Cream with CoQ10. This was my nighttime moisture. I wanted a little anti-wrinkle action, and needed a cream to combat dryness. This didn't upset my sensitive skin, but it didn't really have the oomph I appreciate in combating dryness, either. Plus, I can't say that the CoQ10 was doing much for me, either.

Eucerin Extra Protective Moisture Lotion SPF 30. Kids, according to the dermatologist (mine, anyway), you should wear no less than SPF 30 on your face. Any higher and you're just paying for numbers--any lower and you might pay the price. This doesn't bother my sensitive skin, but it doesn't do much to moisturize, either. I don't know about any of you out there, but I'm getting tired of having to pick one or the other. Yes, I could wear both a cream and then a sunscreen, but I can't stand the goopy feeling. Plus, moisturizers formulated with sunscreen go on better than regular sunscreen...they aren't as heavy and take less time to absorb. I'm slow enough in the morning without having to wait 20 minutes for my moisturizer to dry.

Almay Eye Makeup Remover Pads. I love this product. Even though I wear minimal amounts of mascara and still have to use three pads sometimes, this never irritates my eyes. When I use liquid removers, I always end up with cotton fluff in my eyes.

Neutrogena Visibly Firm Eye Cream. This is another one from Dr. Baumann, although I don't think she designated it for my skin type. I love this eye cream. I notice a difference when I don't use it (my eyes are drier and look more crepe-y), and it never irritates my eyes. I put it all around and on the lid. I've also used this as a face cream when traveling to save space (Dr. Baumann's suggestion in her book), and it works nicely.

Clinique Advanced Stop Signs Eye Cream SPF 15. My favorite eye product of all time is All About Eyes, but it has no SPF. I don't think Clinique actually makes this product anymore (I bought it last year, and eye creams last forever), but it moisturizes well and protects my eyes from the sun. I'd love to go back to All About Eyes, but then I'm stuck having to find another product with SPF. Too much work, people. Clarins makes an eye cream with SPF 30, but it's not as moisturizing as Clinique's.

There you have it. That was my basic skincare. All in all, it performed pretty well. B minus. I thought I could do better, so off I went in search...

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day Dear Readers and Friends!

*heart picture from Bubbly.com

Annick Goutal Eau d'Hadrien

I was intrigued by Eau d'Hadrien from first sniff. Bob and I were strolling through Bloomingdales when I saw a collection of Annick Goutal bottles sitting on a mirrored tray. We sniffed several, but Hadrien was the one the one that stuck with us after we walked away. With its notes of Sicilian lemon, grapefruit, citron, and cypress, this fragrance was likely to be anything but a sure thing for me. I'm not a fan of citrus scents, and many people are not fans of Hadrien. I've seen it compared to Lemon Pledge and air freshener. It is a very clean fragrance, but I find the citrus here soft and breezy, and with none of the chemical aftertaste--er, aftersmell--one gets from cleansing products. Some fragrances are more sensitive to other scents clinging to our skin: soap, lotions, etc. Others simply knock out any smell that came before them. Hadrien is in the former category. In fact, although Hadrien is quite wearable on its own, it works best layered with other scents. I've tried four so far:

Skin Musk. You can find Skin Musk at any drugstore. It comes in both a spray and an oil, and I've seen both for a price as low as $5.99. Don't be fooled by the cheap price: this is a lovely combination of florals, sandalwood, and musk that warms wonderfully against the skin. It's a close scent, sexy and wearable anytime of the year. I applied the Hadrien first, and then a light spray of Skin Musk. The Musk immediately mellows the citrus so that only a soft edge remains. The sandalwood pumps up the cypress, so the soft woods take focus. This makes me think of winter on the beach, sitting inside near a fire and looking out at the bright sun bouncing off the ocean.

Songes. I bought a decant of this months and months ago. Songes is a serious white floral, with notes of frangipani, ylang-ylang, jasmine, and vanilla. Lucky for me, Hadrien renders Songes wearable--until now, I referred to it simply as "Headache in a Bottle." The first few moments after I apply Songes are always glorious, because it is a beautiful fragrance, but no less than a few minutes after I've applied it, my head begins to throb. I was a bit hesitant to try it with the Hadrien, but happily, it worked. The cypress and citron town down the jasmine, while the slightly bitter grapefruit note plays up its earthier notes. The vanilla takes the edge out of the citrus, making it creamier and a bit sweeter.

Jo Malone Wild Fig & Cassis. Because Jo Malone fragrances are meant to be layered (particularly with other Jo Malone fragrances), I thought it might be fun to try a couple of these. Wild Fig & Cassis was my first choice because I wanted to see how the citrus notes would compliment the fig. Wild Fig & Cassis has notes of fig, cassis, hyacinth, and cedarwood. The result of layering this scent with Hadrien is a fresh green scent, reminiscent of early summer mornings full of blossoms and wet, freshly cut grass. Together these produce something I think could become a summer staple in my fragrance wardrobe. The only thing that concerns me is the lasting power...neither of these scents is known for hanging around too long. The good news is, they are both so light that reapplying shouldn't a be a problem, and in fact might bring more relief from summer heat and humidity.

Jo Malone Nutmeg & Ginger. Never, never try this. It will require nothing short of a Hazmat team to remove the noxious odor, which is something like a dirty tuna can left too long in the sun near a dried out rind of lemon. Hideous. Seriously.

My next fragrance layering candidates are: Jo Malone Vintage Gardenia, Jo Malone Orange Blossom, Sage Machado Coral Perfume Oil, and Creative Scentualization Perfect Veil. Stay tuned!

*photos: Annick Goutal from Aedes; Skin Musk from CVS; Jo Malone from Gloss

And So It Begins...2007 Skincare Olympics

Even if you didn't read last night's warning, you may have intuited that this year, I'd be writing about things other than perfume. The perfume sampling is by no means stopping, but this skincare thing is on my mind...in fact, one of my first posts ever for this blog was on this very topic. My search hasn't stopped. Dr. Baumann's book didn't offer me a solution, and so I've decided to search for one on my own.

To be quite frank, I can only hope this works and will help a few of you. I've been all over Paula Begoun's Cosmetics Cop site and MakeupAlley; I've read The Skin Type Solution and The Perricone Prescription; I've tried Clinique, Lancome, Estee Lauder, Neutrogena, Cellex-C, Kinerase, Clarins, and La Mer products, just to name a few. I pore (no pun intended, thanks) over skincare articles in countless magazines. The books and reviews are sometimes helpful, but more often than not, I find it's all about simple trial and error. Or better yet, simple trials and tribulations: for if something hydrates my skin, it's likely to break me out; if something gives my skin a smooth, even appearance, it's likely to cause peeling I haven't experienced since back in the days when I believed (didn't we all?) that a good burn provided a solid base for a tan. (Although the damage isn't extensive--I stopped tanning and started using sunscreen in my early 20s--I would love to go back and kick my younger self. Hard.) Products marked as "safe" for sensitive skin can leave me red as a stop sign, while some products marked "normal" leave my skin feeling pretty fresh and healthy.

"It's all about the ingredients," you might say, and I'd be inclined to agree. However, which ingredients? And am I really to pull a scroll of ingredients from my purse every time I go looking for a product? And how will I know which of these ingredients will bother me, other than trial and error? For every list begins with an opening like, "If you have sensitive skin, you may want to avoid..." And how to explain why an ingredient bothers me when it's in one brand, but not when it's in another? Is it levels of concentration? Is it the way the ingredient reacts with its other little ingredient friends? People, it's maddening. I can only eat so much salmon and drink so much water; I seriously prefer two or three steps to eight or nine for my skincare routine; and frankly, I'm worried less about wrinkles than hydrated, even-toned skin.

To top it off, my loving husband, when he sees me tearing the protective paper off the mouth of yet another bottle of cleanser, toner ("But you don't need toner," you say. Oh, shut up!), or moisturizer, likes to say things such as, "You know, I don't ever really wash my face." He of the clear, smooth, lineless skin. And I snark back, "Well, you don't wear makeup, now, do you? Or do you? Have you been in my MAC?" Other couples have money and sex come between them; with us, it will be only the actual physical wall of product built out of my obsessive search to find something that both makes my skin appear smooth and even-toned and not flaky.

A little preview: The first trial I'll discuss is the skincare I used through most of December and January (except for the few days of Trish, days from which it took weeks to recover), which is what I call my "sensitive care" routine. In the second trial I'll talk about Liz Earle's Naturally Active Skincare, which I've been using for about two weeks now. I'm undecided about the third trial, but it will hopefully help me get over the second one (don't worry, I'll talk about the good as well as the bad for everything I try).

I'm open to suggestions if you have any!

Friday? Really?

How can it be? Have I really not posted since Tuesday? I swear, I think about posts to write for the blog so much in my spare time that some feeble part of my brain must believe I've actually done something about it. I can't ride the wave of everyone's love for Le Maroc forever, clearly.

I had to laugh because a commenter on Andy's blog called my post about Le Maroc "flowery." In my past life (all of two months ago), I was a technical writer. I tend to be terse. Busy people don't have time for the blah blah. But to write about perfume and be terse? Well, I suppose I could try a technical writer's approach to perfume, but I think it might be a little dry. I don't think I've ever read a post about perfume that wasn't "flowery," unless the writer absolutely hates a perfume. But no--not even then! Perfume folks are rather passionate in their opinions, either way.

This week, besides Le Maroc, I've worn Idole (at the suggestion of The Non-Blonde, I plan to pit it against Donna Karan's Black Cashmere), Lea Extreme (great comfort scent), and Iris Poudre (pure heaven). I'm working on more skincare posts. Yes, it may exasperate the perfume lovers out there, but my quest this year is to find something that works and let everyone know what I think. I like to share! Surely beautiful skin is as important as perfume? Isn't it?

Happy Friday, everyone!

Andy Tauer Le Maroc pour Elle

Weeks ago when I was trying all those rose fragrances, several readers told me I should try Andy Tauer's Le Maroc pour Elle. My lovely fellow bloggers The Non-Blonde and Victoria of Victoria's Own both offered to send me samples, and as Victoria had already shared so much with me back when I got started on this blog, I took The Non-Blonde up on her offer. (Besides, The Non-Blonde and I are practically scent twins.) Many thanks to both ladies for being so generous and kind!

I received my samples on Saturday (you know, perfume nuts don't share one sample at a time). Yesterday morning as I prepared to start the week, I reached for Le Maroc. Believe me when I tell you, this is a scent for many moods. I wonder that if it couldn't get you through just about anything. Here's a description from the wonderful perfumer himself, straight from the Tauer Perfumes site:

"Le Maroc pour elle is the perfume of the Moroccan rose at dawn, combined with the seductive evening scent of jasmine. The flower fragrances melt into the enchantment of cedar wood from the High Atlas, forming a truly sensual oriental perfume. The head note is composed of fresh citrus and hints of lavender. Cedar wood forms the perfume body, gently combined with the balm of oriental woods."

Regular readers know my job has been rather trying lately. Mondays are long days full of meetings, so I deliberately chose a scent I thought might bring me a bit of comfort. I'd sniffed Le Maroc in the vial, and I guessed it would wrap me in a warm, heady blanket of scent throughout the day. But here's the part I didn't expect: I was driving to work surrounded by this amazing perfume, and I thought, "I smell sexy." I don't know what your lives are like out there, so maybe you don't think this is so unusual. Maybe Monday mornings are all about the sexy for you. But for me, as a person who rarely feels sexy even when called upon to be so--say, in evening dress or at the beach--I was downright surprised. I felt bouyed by this all day. Monday went so smoothly, I thought it was Friday. I sailed through meetings, I flirted and tried to charm...and I was at work, people! My voice was softer and more controlled; I handled the few crises that arose with grace and wisdom. People responded positively to me all day. And all because of a perfume?

I even made it to the gym before all the treadmills were occupied.

When I returned home, I sat down at the computer to unwind--meaning "read blogs"--and I saw that Angela of Now Smell This had posted on the best romantic Valentine perfumes, and one of the perfumes recommended? Le Maroc pour Elle! I have to say, I wholeheartedly agree. Understand: This is not necessarily a scent to knock your Loved One's socks off. In fact, Loved One may not even notice you're wearing perfume. I mean this as the highest of compliments to the perfumer, because this scent becomes you. It's the mark of a great perfume if it makes you say not, "I feel beautiful," but "I am beautiful." Even if Loved One doesn't notice it (although, let's be honest: Loved One will notice because it smells heavenly...because you smell heavenly), you will. Every time you catch a whiff of yourself, you'll swoon. You'll stand a little taller. You'll bat your eyelashes. You'll get your way.

If you're looking for straight rose, though, this might not be a first choice. The rose is there, but it blends seamlessly with heady jasmine and woods into something that should be a new flower all on its own. Andy Tauer has bottled magic! From the opening, which is softly bitter citrus and slightly herbal, into the velvety floral heart (I believe Andy used the word "melt" up there in the description) that moves into sweet warm wood, warm as a hearth fire, Le Maroc pour Elle is sensual and lovely, warm and embracing.

*photo from Luckyscent

Fashion Week, Even for the Unfashionable

Unfashionable? Is that right? Unfashionated? Non-fashionable? I'm any and all of these things, any word you can make up that means, "When it comes to fashion, she hasn't got a clue." My daily uniform is a pair of Eddie Bauer boot cut jeans with brown suede loafers and one of my gajillion plain pullover sweaters. Occasionally I mix it up and wear black loafers, or a cardigan. I know. Don't faint.

Even though I'm hardly a fashion pioneer myself, I love looking at the photos from Fashion Week, and my very favorite thing of all is to see The Sartorialist's photos from outside the tents on Style.com. Here we go:

First, here's me outside the shows. I wish.



Next, all the women are wearing shoes with tights, shoes one wouldn't normally pair with tights. I love tights, and I love the way this looks.



Scott Schuman, who is The Sartorialist, has a real talent for not only capturing a look on film, but also an essence. This woman reeks beauty, grace, and style:



And though I generally love everything he photographs, sometimes we disagree. This woman is 80s London (Boy George? Thompson Twins? Anyone?), which I find very fun for a costume party, but isn't really a look I want to see come back in earnest:



But no one can deny the man has his finger on the pulse, and I clearly do not. Check out what came down the runway at Nicole Miller:



Ah. Fashion. Do you really want to hurt me?

*photos from Style.com

Guerlain Chamade

For three days, I've been wearing Guerlain Chamade. For three days, I've been wondering how to tell you about it. I'll begin with the notes:

Top: hyacinth, galbanum
Heart: ylang-ylang, jasmine, blackcurrant bud
Base: vanilla, sandalwood

At times when I write about perfume, I feel as though I'm a colorblind person who's been asked to describe a painting. As the colorblind person could not describe the shades of sunset in a Monet painting, I find myself unable to describe the notes I'm smelling. This sweet almost peppery opening that smells a bit like cinnamon to me, is that hyacinth or galbanum? I would guess hyacinth, but I can't say I ever smelled hyacinth. It's maddening. Did all perfume lovers except for me spend their lives in gardens and forests, sniffing buds and inhaling the scents of woods and dirt? Months ago I talked about putting together a scent kit for myself, and now I think if I want to keep going, I'd better start looking into it again.

At least I can give you the experience and impressions part, which, after what I just told you, you may find less meaningful: The top notes for me have the same sweet spice as the hated (by me) Chinatown, only this comes across as more floral, natural, and less cloying. In fact, I'd rather compare it to another favorite of mine, Citta di Kyoto, in this respect. The spice softens and becomes creamy and dark with the entry of jasmine and blackcurrant bud. It retains this creaminess as it moves into soft woods. And the other thing: it's very clearly a Guerlain and nothing else. I think if I were to smell it and not know, I'd at least get the maker correct.

I cannot imagine being colorblind any more than I can imagine remaining unmoved by music. What happens to art? I think it would be silly to assume that colorblind people can't love art. I read somewhere that often the colorblind will love color combinations (the colors as they see them, of course) together that the rest of the world finds appalling. (I think some designers must hire these people.) But is it any less valid? I doubt it. Of course, mine is a case of ignorance, which I can overcome. I can sniff the oils and train my nose. I can stop and smell the roses, and the hyacinths and the violets and the orange blossom and what-have-you. But I don't think you'll see me in the forest sniffing trees anytime soon.

*photo from GoAntiques.com...if you're looking for vintage Chamade, that one's for sale. Hurry!

New Looks for Spring at Neiman Marcus

I've been meaning to post about this for the last week or so, and an email from Neiman's reminded me this morning: the Spring Looks are here! I love the Chantecaille, Jemma Kidd, and Laura Mercier looks for those of us who are fair. The look from Awake has a very dewy and fresh appeal as well. I think the Becca look is lovely for our dark-complected sisters, and the Christian Dior look is stunningly pretty.

The Trish looks very close to the Laura Mercier, and I prefer the Laura. The Nars model isn't impressing me (her eyeshadow looks very 80s, taking bold color up to the brow and not blending much, but perhaps that's the point--same with the YSL look), but the colors themselves are gorgeous. And I'm over the Bobbi Brown violet thing. I have to admit, though, I'd like to find a pretty soft lilac color for spring.