Thank You!

I just got home from my friends' wedding, and after changing my clothes and pulling all the dirty laundry out of the suitcase, I sat down to check in and there were all your wonderful comments on my last post! I was dreading tomorrow and feeling sort of low, but I'm completely cheered after reading about all the things you're loving right now, and also from the encouragement you offer. I'm lucky this blog has brought so many terrific people into my life. I wish you all sincere thanks and love and hugs!

I also owe Chaya extra hugs for the little something waiting for me when I got home...can't wait to try them, dear!

And finally, because I did not get a chance to do this over the weekend because I was attending erratic festivities with random people who don't know the meaning of the word "relax," I want to say "Congratulations and Best of Luck!" to my Mom, who started her new job today. I hope she has a great time with it!

Things I Love Right Now

My poor blog is so neglected these days, I feel I owe it and all of you a world of apologies. I don't kid myself--there are plenty of blogs out there to keep you all busy, many of them far better than mine. Still, I love coming here to post and hear your thoughts. Lately I've simply been too drained at the end of the day to do much more than sit in front of the television and practically drool on myself. I don't like to bring my problems here, and my blog is not a diary, but if you read back through some old entries, you start to see a theme: my job.

The truth of the matter is, I HATE my job. I LOATHE it with unparalleled passion. It's simply soul-draining and negative, and if it weren't for the people on my team, I seriously don't think I could stand it. The time is nigh for me to find something else to do with my life. This could be tricky, because that's exactly what this job was supposed to be: a career change, a new beginning, the start of great opportunities. Instead, it's been a shutting down, a closing off, something to run from. But, as my husband says, at least now I know what I DON'T want to do.

I know two things, actually. I don't want to be a project manager, and I don't want to complain anymore. So in the spirit of not complaining (and because figuring out what to do next is way too daunting), I've composed a list of things I'm loving right now:

1. White Florals
I cannot deny it any longer. I love white florals. I don't love them unconditionally and across the board, but I do love them. In particular, I am loving Estee Lauder Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia. This scent is so beautifully clean and classic, I picture wearing it even in cooler weather. The gardenia dominates the scent, not overly lush or green, but perfectly white and smooth. I didn't love it so much at first, but for weeks I've worn it day after day. And the compliments! People, I need to feel the love right now, even if it's just for my perfume.

2. Heroes
I am not a big fan of television. My night is Thursday on NBC, and that's about it (except for shows I rent from Netflix, but those don't count, right?). Oh, but speaking of Netflix: they have every episode, and if you're a member, you can watch them on demand. Which is how we got hooked. This show is so clever with its comic book twists and turns, I love it. It's a great escape.



3. Dior Holiday Palette
I can't tell you how many times I've almost bought this in the last week. I keep going to the Nordstrom's site to look at it. Kind of sad, I know, and a bit too close to the Trish Planner I bought last year (a miserable failure). I could still cave, if they don't sell out.



4. My Ann Taylor Purse
I was looking for something I haven't owned in a while, a good black purse, when I found this baby. I was poised to buy a black Coach bag, as it seems everything else on the market looks like a garbage bag this year, when I spotted this classic number at Ann Taylor. (Okay, Bob actually spotted it.) The animal print is more interesting, it has a sleek profile, it holds everything I need it to hold, and it's ultimately much more budget friendly than the Coach bag. And it's even better for you, if you're interested, because now it's on sale!



5. Monogrammed Lunch Tote
Okay, I have a lunch box, and now I'm on a team that goes out to lunch every day (believe me, we need it), but I think this lunch tote is so cute. Perhaps for my new job, when I find it?



6. French Woman for All Seasons Desk Calendar
Generally I don't go in for themed desk calendars, or desk calendars at all (which is shocking given my obsession with blank books and paper in general), but I almost bought this on a whim, and I still might. It just looks cute and fun, and I'm a sucker for anything that smacks of anything French in the slightest.



7. Patek Phillipe Watch
Hrm. This is for when I win the lottery, or get that high-paying executive producer position on Heroes. Yep. A person has to have a goal. Let's just say this is one of mine...and it's pretty far off!



Feel free to list all the things you love right now in the comments. I am off to a wedding this weekend, but next week I plan to try and get back to blogging with some regularity...I hope! *fingers crossed*

images: esteelauder.com, imdb.com, nordstrom.com, anntaylor.com, monogramsbysopretty.com, R.Nichols Stationery, and europeanwatch.com

Incommunicado

Is Mercury retrograde or something? Has one of you put a voodoo hex on me because I dissed your favorite perfume? I have clearly done something to anger the universe, for in the last week:

• My Yahoo account has blocked me both at work and at home. All I get is "connection timed out." Their Support is not supportive. If you have emailed me in the last week, then for now you are out of luck. So let me just go ahead and say: Sybil, thanks for the Apercu and the samples! I got them yesterday!
• My work email account locked me out because I have too many messages (and/or too many large messages) in my Inbox. If I work with you: stop sending large attachments through email. Stop clicking reply all when you only have something to say to one person. Stop replying with the large-ass attachments still on the email. Just stop it. And thank you.
• My phone has decided it does not like to have its battery charged...but only if I have a reason to use the phone. When I open it up just to check, the battery is always mysteriously full.

Grrr.

Rykiel Woman

Trying to get back in the groove of writing about perfume, but I'm not doing the best job. Still, that doesn't mean I'm not here in my little world, going nuts over this and that, and I could not help but pay this one forward. You see, the lovely Chaya—regular visitors to the perfume blogs all know and love her—sent me a sample of this fragrance last winter. I wore it several times and found it lovely, but the weather got warmer, I got into a slump, and into the decant box it went.

On Saturday I was digging through all my perfumes, looking for things to sample for fall, and I found my bag of goodies from Chaya again and decided this one needed another go. Rykiel Woman (subtitle: Not for Men!) has the following notes:

Top: shinus molle, violet, date palm fruit
Heart: jasmine petals, sunny flowers, essence of Bulgarian rose, Indian black pepper
Base: olibanum, agar wood, leather, amber, musk

As often as I sample perfume, I rarely find myself complimented on what I'm wearing by anyone other than my husband. I tend to be sparing in application, so a lot of the time even Bob claims he can't smell it unless I put my wrist right against his nose. A person cannot be too careful at the office, and I love perfume so much it would be easy for me to overdose. I can recount every perfume I've been complimented on since I started sampling: Keiko Mecheri Loukhoum, Ligne St. Barth Vanille, SL Fleur d'Oranger, Weil Zibelene, SL Daim Blond, Dzing!, and finally, Rykiel Woman.

Not that receiving a compliment or two is any reason to buy a bottle of perfume (and lord knows I buy plenty of perfumes after receiving nary a compliment), but I felt compelled to own this one. It's dangerous, really, because the more I buy the things I really like, the less I want to sample.

Hrm. Telling you about the notes and about receiving compliments tells you nothing about the way this smells, I realize. Frankly, I must work from memory here. I wore it last night, to dinner with some friends, and then I applied the remainder of my sample this morning. A hint remains on my wrists, and a whiff remains in the bottle, where I removed the spray nozzle to get at the last drops. I can telly you, it's soft, warm, ambery, lusciously feminine and sensual. Shinus molle (which apparently is really spelled “schinus molle” everywhere but the Rykiel Web site, where I got the notes) is a sort of pepper tree that grows in the American Southwest and Mexico, in case you're wondering. As many types of pepper as are listed in the notes, they only lend a hint of spice, so do not expect a peppery amber, nor an incense. Who knows what those “sunny flowers” in the heart might be, but they add a delicacy and romance to scent that's quite well-grounded.

I expect I'll be receiving my share of compliments on it this winter, as I have no doubt it will become a staple. This perfume has that interesting effect where after I apply it, I forget it's there—but other people notice. I sometimes think that's one of the hallmarks of a perfume that's really well done, because it seems and feels effortless, yet people are drawn to it.

The best thing: you can get this for a song at many of the discount perfumers. Go! Go now! You'll thank me later.

*image from fragrancex.com

Absent

I am not sure what's going on with me, but I wanted to stop in and say hello to anyone who might be reading! I'm trying new perfumes and wearing some familiar ones, but lately I find I don't feel much like talking about them. I would rather enjoy the experience and not analyze it much. I'm sure I will be back sometime soon--at least I hope so. I enjoy hearing from you all so much that I sometimes wish you could talk and I could respond to you instead of the other way around.

Let's give it a shot: Tell me, if you will, what scents are you anticipating for fall? They don't have to be new releases--they could be old favorites!

*image from The Foliage Network

Reader's Journal: The Big House

For some reason, writing about this book is a struggle for me. It wasn't a struggle to read, although I did get bored about 60 pages from the end and decided not to finish it. It left me cold, and I've spent the last few weeks trying to determine why.

I picked this book because I thought it would be interesting to read about a world unfamiliar to me. I've been through and around parts of New England, but I've never been to the coast, never been there in the summer, never had the luxury and/or regularity of summering at the same place year in and year out. For one thing, in Texas, although plenty of people have homes in Padre or Galveston or at Mustang Island, when people say "summer home" (and really, they don't ever, ever say that), they mean "lake house." Here in Georgia, while "summer home" might mean a quaint place on the Georgia coast or St. Simon's or Tybee Island, what they generally mean is "condo in the Florida panhandle, possibly a timeshare." What's clear is that coastline is synonymous with "vacation" to people all over the map.

New Englanders raised summering at the coast to an art form back in the late Nineteenth century, and George Howe Colt, author of The Big House, does a great job laying out this history for the reader and explaining how is family was a part of it all. As a person who has no real extended family, I'm fascinated by large families with their vacations and reunions and traditions. Or perhaps I should say, as a person not close to her extended family, a very kind, clannish (read: Irish) bunch with a solid family tradition--drinking and attending Mass. (Let me mention here briefly that Mr. Colt's family was vehemently prejudiced against the Irish, which he seems to find appalling in a politically correct sort of way, but also slightly amusing, which, I think, is one of the brief if unintended flashes of real honesty in the book.) I was no more a part of that world than I am of Mr. Colt's New England, but my family is familiar where his is not.

Mr. Colt tells the story of The Big House and how it came to be built, of he and his many, many cousins and the games they played, of sailing and fishing in the bay, and of his own family history. Beautifully written, the book is curiously cold. More than once (indeed, probably more than a hundred times over), Mr. Colt reminds the reader of the reservation and refinement of old Boston families. Money is never discussed (although Mr. Colt, I suppose in trying to break that tradition and show how much more enlightened he is than his family, discusses it plenty), illness is shrouded, family misfortune beneath consideration, let alone words. Ultimately, this reserve flattens his family portrait, even as he describes his Grandmother's numerous nervous breakdowns, or the horrifying story of his Aunt Sandy, who was diagnosed with cancer and not told. Yes, you heard me. They didn't tell her she had cancer. Not even when she was wasted and dying. Mr. Colt's confusion and anger over this does come through, but in a roundabout way he spends more time explaining and covering the family's actions than questioning his own feelings. Psychologically, it's rather interesting, but strange to behold.

The other issue I had with this book was simply this: I am not Mr. Colt's audience. Most likely, neither are many of you. Just as one can tour San Simeon and still not completely understand what must have driven William Randolph Hearst to build it, one can read The Big House and come away without any real understanding of the family who inhabited it. Mr. Colt talks about a lot of people and families as if the whole world knows these people, and I am sure he assumes they do. Many are the names of old Boston and New England families, some recognizable as captains of industry and founding fathers and great American philosophers and philanthropists--but as many are not. He writes about place in the same manner, as though any person reading his book is as intimately familiar with the geography as he is.

And finally, he has the boorish (or really, bore-ish), derisive pride of someone both lauding his family's position and mocking it at the same time. This is a trick that can only be pulled off by people who are remarkably self-involved yet lack self-awareness. He spends a great deal of time letting you know who he is (or who his family is), and then assuring you it's no big deal. I suppose, in the end, I got bored with standing outside while Mr. Colt opened and closed the window shades. Telling a family history is a tricky business, to be sure. Even the most skilled writer (and Mr. Colt is skilled--he really does write beautifully) can suck the life out of a story just by telling it and refusing to own it.

*image from Powell's

Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle and Frederic Malle Une Fleur de Cassie

Sometimes I feel like a miner panning for gold. I dip the pan in the stream, I sift and I sift, and I come up with a tiny nugget here and there. Arduous work, this is. I can go weeks and weeks and find only fool's gold (the fool being me, of course). At some point after all the testing and sniffing, I start to think only one thing: I'm too optimistic for perfume, and I will make myself love something that might not really be worth it. When I start raving about the ethereal beauty of J. Lo's latest release, just go ahead and call Blogger and ask them to shut me down, will you?

But sometimes I try a perfume and I KNOW the magic is real, and in the last few months, I've struck real gold--I've found no less than FOUR perfumes I truly believe to be bottle-worthy: Miller Harris Coeur d'Ete, Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier Secrete Datura, Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle, and Frederic Malle Une Fleur de Cassie. Sadly, striking gold in this case won't make me rich, and in fact could easily result in bankruptcy instead of a new house or car. All I have to say is, thank god for decants and The Perfumed Court!

I've already told you how I feel about my title perfumes: I love them. Of course I love Tubereuse Criminelle--it's part of the non-export line. If I could buy it here, would it be half as appealing? Yes! Notes? Could I describe this with mere notes? Hm. Tuberose (naturally), jasmine, orange blossom, hyacinth, nutmeg, clove, styrax, musk, and vanilla. It seems many people have ugly moments at the top of Serge Lutens fragrances, but I have yet to suffer from bad accidents of chemistry with this line (as long as you don't count Iris Silver Mist, which makes me smell like I am made of plastic--no other way to say it). The opening is tuberose enlightened by a hint of menthol, menthol that is neither overpowering nor medicinal, but cooling, bracing, like the sharp cold of a winter morning. It's a flower preserved in ice, and after thirty minutes or so the ice begins to melt and...oh, watch out. This is the softest tuberose, a silky fine powder. I caught whiffs now and again of the orange blossom, warmed by gentle spice, but the star of the show is most definitely tuberose. It's not creamy and tropical, nor does it sparkle. It glows.

I ordered a decant.

Time and again on this blog, I've professed my love for all things Frederic Malle (except for THE ONE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED). I was having a bit of a crisis of conscience about this, because sure, I claim that Frederic Malle is my favorite, but when I count bottles I own, L'Artisan is the clear winner, coming in at four, all of which I love and wear: Orchidee Blanche, Safran Troublant, La Chasse aux Papillons, and Dzing! The count for Frederic Malle? Um, well, technically...zero. I have (had) a decant of Iris Poudre, a recharge bottle of Iris Poudre given to me by Chaya, and a decant of Lys Mediterranee. How measly is that?

And then...I don't want to be hasty here, because frankly more testing is in order (and that probably means I'll have to order a decant, just for the sake of fairness), but it's possible--not saying it IS but it's POSSIBLE--that...that...oh, here goes:

ImaylikeUneFleurdeCassiebetterthanIrisPoudre.

There! I said it! But only a possibility. Clearly, I'll have to wear both and then try to make a clear-headed decision. In the meantime, the notes in Une Fleur de Cassie are mimosa absolute, jasmine absolute, cassie absolute, rose absolute, carnation, vanilla, and sandalwood. This appeals to me in the same way Iris Poudre does because it has the quality of a scent from another era. Slowly I'm learning that I cannot resist a certain type of powdery scent, something close to a chypre with less of an edge but with no less character for that fact. Caron's Parfum Sacre also falls into this category for me. While I hate to quote directly from Web site marketing, the Frederic Malle site says it perfectly: "its fragrance is from another era: the Thirties, when women dared to wear voluptuous, disturbing scents." Voluptuous? Yes. Disturbing? I find it more melancholy than disturbing. The light touch of mimosa at the top masks the darker heart underneath, made full by the cassie, rose, and jasmine, and finally grounded by the spice and powder of carnation at the end. Strange to say, but it's a lifetime in a bottle, a movement from light-hearted youth to womanhood and then on into personhood, coming in to one's full being.

No, no, I don't think I really like it better than Iris Poudre. They are too different in mood, but they are equal in stature. I see a decant in my future...but when will I break down and buy a bottle? And of what? Oy.

*image from Barney's

L'Artisan Passage d'Enfer

Something about a perfume called "The Gates of Hell" seizes--as in stops, rather than possesses--the heart of this former Catholic school girl. Wearing it makes me feel a little bit guilty, like maybe I should spin around three times and spit over my left shoulder after every time I apply it. I wouldn't feel guilty if I didn't find it so unbelievably appealing. It's as though this little perfume vial on my dresser is holding out Milton's big juicy apple, waving it around in front of my face until I'm tempted to take a bite.

The notes in Passage d'Enfer seem innocuous enough: white lily, frankincense, aloe, and white musk. All that white! Doesn't white mean purity? Or does it symbolize an unbearable heat, a white flame turning everything in its path to ash? This is a soft fragrance, close to the skin, but dark with incense. White lily adds a bit of sweetness to the top, but the frankincense and musk dominate here, with the aloe serving to cool.

Passage d'Enfer makes me think of a place I visited once, a small town in the desert of Northern Arizona, called Jerome. When I was there it was early March, close to the end of winter, but still the air was quite cold, and waves of high clouds moved across the sky. The town is built into a steep hill, and I remember reaching the top and looking out across the desert, the high sun an icy disk, its weak light whitewashing the landscape. The desert in the Western United States is mystical to me; I know some who find it a forsaken place--dry, hot, and ugly, hardly worth a bother. While I'm not one for ghost stories or too much hocus pocus nonsense, to me the desert is teeming with spirits. When I smell Passage d'Enfer, it takes me back to the top of that hill. The incense of this scent speaks to me of life that has gone before. It's a close scent, one to be worn more for oneself than for others. I practically poured about half the vial on myself and my husband insisted he could smell nothing unless I stood right up against him--and then he found it as intriguing as I do.

I certainly don't mean to say that I found Jerome, Arizona to be the gates of hell, just in case anyone from there should happen to visit. It's quite a nice little town, actually, full of art galleries and little shops and truly breathtaking scenery. Go there at the edge of winter. Wear Passage d'Enfer. Then tell me what you think.

*photos from Luckyscentand AZJerome.com

Vacation

Friends, my apologies for no Reader's Journal post today. I am overwhelmed by projects at work and home, and so I have decided that rather than ping you with "Sorry, no sample" posts over the next week, I am going to take a short break. I will return to regular posting the Tuesday after Labor Day. Have a wonderful week and a terrific holiday, and I will see you soon!

Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier Secrete Datura

Not to give this perfume short shrift, but my post will be brief tonight. I must tell you, I feel as though I've hit some sort of scent jackpot this week--at least that's one way to look at it. Another way to look at it is discovering more perfumes to crowd my already overflowing wish list. I know that at times I still have all the unbridled enthusiasm of the perfume novice. I'm like the drunk person at a party who wants to hug everyone. But I have the gut feeling that this is real treasure, and my nose is not playing tricks.

Secrete Datura has notes of leafy green, orange blossom, heliotrope, neroli, jasmine, hyacinth, ambergris, musk, vetiver, and cedar. sometimes when I find a scent that really wows me, I find myself at a loss for words. How can I describe my experience? I find this very close in spirit to Iris Poudre, although more powdery, softer, and slightly brighter in spirit because of the orange blossom and neroli. This scent is youthful without being young, soft as a cashmere sweater (yet works in the heat), and simply has an aromatically calming effect on me that I haven't found with other perfumes. Work has been a complete hellhole this week, but I've remained calm, focused, and uncomplaining. I feel sure the deep beauty of Secrete Datura has something to do with this.

*image from Luckyscent

Miller Harris Coeur d'Été

I seem to be mostly recovered from my summer cold, so I thought I would circle back and sample the things I picked out what now seems like weeks ago. One of the scents I chose was Miller Harris Coeur d'Ete, and while we are now on the backside of summer's said coeur, I think the scent is still perfectly fitting.

Everywhere, I'm reading that people are ready for fall, and I am no exception. Although I wore light and summery scents last week to counteract the heat (and my cranky disposition), mentally I wanted something more. I had planned to wear Miel de Bois and ended up with Eau d'Hadrien instead. It was all very light and refreshing, but as soon as I realized my nose had recovered, I went straight back to my sample of Coeur d'Été, which I'd worn for several days before I got sick.

Something tells me that if I owned a bottle of this, I would wear it non-stop through late summer and into early fall. With notes of chocolate bean, licorice, lemon, grapefruit, tangerine, banana, white pear, lilac, cassie, heliotrope, sandalwood, benzoin, and vanilla and fruity musk, this scent may sound either too fruity or too sweet to be borne in the heat. It made me think of this, from The Secret History: "Trees creaking with apples, fallen apples red on the grass beneath, the heavy sweet smell of them rotting on the ground and the steady thrumming of wasps around them. Commons clock tower: ivied brick, white spire, spellbound in the hazy distance."

I don't know that I'll ever be able to let go of the idea of back to school and how promising it always felt. I hope I never do let go, because that must be the key to thinking of fall as a beginning rather than an ending. The turning of leaves, a hint of crispness in the air, the changing light, all of these things are evoked for me in this fragrance. To me this scent is both melancholy and uplifting, because it has an overripe quality that speaks of decay, and beneath it a depth that's dark yet comforting. The sandalwood and chocolate bean come through even in the top, tempering the sweetness. The lilac and heliotrope both serve to deepen the scent of the fruit, and I think they actually lend a bit to the dark quality. There's nothing sharp here--the edges are smooth, like finely sanded wood.

Apparently Lyn Harris created this scent while she was pregnant, so it seems odd to speak of decay or darkness. But heightened senses must be some part of embracing the larger part of life, or the cycle of life, I suppose. That may seem a bit over the top, but this time of year always makes me feel a bit more pensive. I wonder if it wouldn't have been more apt to call this scent Fin d'Été, but the heart reference speaks of the depths found here.

*image from Luckyscent

Reader's Journal: What's Next?

This has been a terrible week for blogging. I haven't been sampling, haven't been reading. (GASP! I know!) I did finish my Martha Grimes book, and then my book club was canceled. Oh well, at least I can say now that I've read another mystery writer, one that I enjoyed, even.

I sort of lied...I have been reading The Big House, but only a few pages here and there, so it doesn't really count. Even though it's engaging and well-written, I have to admit: my mind is on what to read next. I have no less than five different choices:

The Murder Room, by PD James. This is my next book club book. I'm tempted to read it and get it over with. No offense to the book or my friend who picked it--book club reading can sometimes feel like an assignment to be got out of the way so I can get to the other things on my list, like...




Special Topics in Calamity Physics, by Marisha Pessl. I've been dying to read this since it came out last year. Description from Powell's: "Special Topics in Calamity Physics is a darkly hilarious coming-of-age novel and a richly plotted suspense tale told through the distinctive voice of its heroine, Blue van Meer. After a childhood moving from one academic outpost to another with her father (a man prone to aphorisms and meteoric affairs), Blue is clever, deadpan, and possessed of a vast lexicon of literary, political, philosophical, and scientific knowledge — and is quite the cineaste to boot. In her final year of high school at the elite (and unusual) St. Gallway School in Stockton, North Carolina, Blue falls in with a charismatic group of friends and their captivating teacher, Hannah Schneider. But when the drowning of one of Hannah's friends and the shocking death of Hannah herself lead to a confluence of mysteries, Blue is left to make sense of it all with only her gimlet-eyed instincts and cultural references to guide — or misguide — her." Of course, I've also seen it get what to me is the highest order of praise: It's as good as The Secret History, by Donna Tartt, one of my favorite books. But then I have that great apprehension one gets before going on a date with someone who seems to good to be true: What if I don't like it?

Bel Canto, by Ann Patchett. This would be a re-read, first round. I've been thinking about it for months. I remember it being wholly engaging and beautifully written. I need some inspiration. This might be the place to get it. Plus, I like to re-read authors when I hear they have a new book coming out. Geeky, I know, but it's what I do. Her new novel, currently titled Run, will hopefully be out soon.

The Ballad of the Sad Cafe and Other Stories, by Carson McCullers. I've read Member of the Wedding and The Heart is a Lonely Hunter, but I've never read McCullers short stories. I've had this book for no less than twelve years and never read it. Think it's about time? (Also, apparently there's a new critical version of this that Harold Bloom put together, if you're into that sort of thing--and if you can find it.)

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle, by Haruki Murakami. Technically, I'd be finishing this one, as I got halfway through it last year and then started a new job. Right after I started said new job, the holidays arrived, and so on and so forth until I forgot about it. Except I haven't really forgotten about it, because trust me, once you've started it, it's hard to forget. I just wonder how much I'll have to re-read. My guess is not much--it's so vivid and well told, it sticks.

I could go on and on listing choices, but I think I've narrowed it down to these five. Obviously the first one is non-negotiable, as it's for book club, and there's nothing more annoying than trying to talk about the book when only a couple of people have read it.

What's next on your pile, readers? Anything I should add to my list? *wink*

*images from Powell's

Thanks for Playing!

Thanks to all of you who shared your perfume choice of the day on Thursday! I myself wore Apres L'Ondee, and it was a perfect choice for another day in the sweltering South. These temperatures lately are hot for Atlanta, but as a Texas native, they make me oddly homesick. When I first moved here and heard people complain about the heat ("It's going to hit the mid-90s! It's so hot! Hotlanta!"), I would laugh. It felt positively cool to me. Now they're feeling a little bit of Texas fire! Hotlanta, indeed.

Despite the heat, for Friday I have my sights (or sniffer) set on the wonderfully strange Miel de Bois. No, I'm not kidding. I've neglected it far too long, and I'm hoping it will give me a boost.

Have a Happy Friday, everyone!

Tell Me What You're Wearing

This. Stupid. Cold. Won't. Leave. Nor will it just get it over with and become a full-blown summer episode, allowing me to take to my bed during the week and avoid work. Instead, it just hangs around like an uninvited dinner guest picking at leftovers and keeping me awake past my bedtime. I can smell well enough, but not well enough to try anything new. Or perhaps I just don't have the energy. Either way, it's left me only wanting to wear things that are familiar and cherished. So far, that's been Le Chevrefeuille and Guerlain Liu (I am happy to report that my decant was undamaged by the heat). I see this trend continuing for the rest of the week.

Speaking of things that are familiar and cherished, does anybody else miss visiting Victoria at Victoria's Own every day to see what she and everyone else are wearing for the day? I wonder where she's gone, and I hope there's nothing serious keeping her away. She was one of my first friends on this blog, and she introduced me to Anne Pliska, Apres L'Ondee, and Messe de Minuit, among other things. I must send her an email!

But in the meantime, and just this once, if you're visiting Wednesday night or Thursday morning as you prepare for your day, tell me what perfume you're wearing or planning to wear for the day and why. Let me do a little vicarious sampling, as I'm too pathetic this week. Just too pathetic!

A Small Break

I'm off sampling today. I wore Annick Goutal's Le Chevrefeuille as armor against the heat and for comfort inside the office. I've been fighting a chest cold (many thanks to my cube mate next door and my cube mate across the aisle, for spreading the germs), and even though my nose is clear, my sense is definitely off. I hope to be back in sniffing form tomorrow, so I can go to the mall at lunch and get a whiff of the EL Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia. Have a lovely evening everyone!

Reader's Journal: A Mystery, and A Diversion

Notice that the sidebar says I'm still reading The Big House. I've stopped to read my book for book club, The Old Wine Shades by Martha Grimes. I'm not quite halfway through, but at least I'm feeling a bit less confused. I'm not a reader of serial mysteries, or mysteries in and of themselves, at all. I've read a few of the alphabet books by Sue Grafton, and I was an avid reader of Agatha Christie when I was young, but that's about it. The trouble I'm having with this Grimes book is that she makes great assumptions that you know who's who and what happened in her last book. Especially at the beginning, she introduces a new character (Strike that--characters new to me. Any regular reader probably follows right along.) with no explanation of who he or she is or what the relation is to the detective, Richard Jury. I know that's the point of a series, but I find it annoying in a book club read. I'm not going to go read the 372 books that come before it just so I can get through this one. In a way, it seems to put some mystery writers at a disadvantage for getting picked as a book club read, at least for generic book clubs like mine. I suppose for a mystery book club, you could agree to read the whole shebang. Anyway, I'm at least starting to get the hang of the one I'm reading and to get into the story, which is sort of interesting. Grimes pulls in some different tactics, like references to literary criticism and physics and so on, so that makes it fun.

The Big House is interesting so far, like peering into a lifestyle I can only imagine, but I'll talk more about that when I finish the book. The book club selection has not been my only diversion from that book. We've been watching "Upstairs, Downstairs," and it's a good thing these only come one or two at a time from Netflix, or else I'd sit down and watch the whole thing from start to finish. I'd call in sick to work, even. I'm only on the second season, and I feel completely cheated when I get a disc that only has two or three episodes. I was only a little girl when this aired here on Masterpiece Theater, and apparently they played it on A&E years ago, but I didn't have cable. I was so excited to find it on Netflix, but I've been sure to evenly space out the five seasons with movies. The thing is, it doesn't give me much to talk about at the office. All my co-workers watch reality television. I say it that way because they seem to watch all the reality shows, not just one or two. Team lunches are filled with talk about who can dance and who can sing and who can lose the most and who's going home. I show great interest in my sandwich or whatever, because they think I am weird and a snob. (Co-worker to me: "You don't watch any reality shows? Not even 'American Idol'? You're weird.") I think I would only make it worse if I said, "And the thing about Sarah hooking up with James Bellamy is, well, you know when Pamela married Mr. B in Pamela, they actually rang the church bells! For real! But you can see that even though things started to change long ago, a lot still hadn't changed..." I did watch Top Chef--the one reality show no one in my group seemed to watch. I should still get points for that, don't you think? At least when fall television starts I'll have "The Office," which is more acceptable and makes me seem less like a circus freak to them (although let's face it: "Grey's Anatomy" would get me bigger points). *sigh*

*image from powells

Frederic Malle Lys Méditerranée, among Other Things

People, between the heat and the job, I hardly have a thing left to give. They're taking everything I've got this week. As usual, I had ambitious plans for sampling, but I only got through two of the samples I picked this week (Miller Harris Coeur d'Été and Etro Royal Pavillion), and I only managed to peck out a measly hundred-and-something words about one of them. In times like these, I want comfort: air conditioning, Diet Coke, truffles, and Frederic Malle.

I've been wearing Lys Méditerranée whenever I can since late last spring. I finally cracked open my sample sometime last May, wore it one day, and promptly ordered a decant. Along with La Chasse, it's been a comforting summer staple. With notes of ginger lily, angelica root, orange flower, and water lily, this perfume is both ethereal and refreshing. It's a green, dewy floral, an eternal spring morning on the wrist. See this picture of lilies I found? This perfume smells the way these flowers look. How often can one really say that about a perfume? Lucky for you, I'm too tired to wax on about this one, but it reminds me yet again why the Frederic Malle line holds first place as my favorite line. When I finally break down and buy a bottle, my first choice is no question: Iris Poudre. But there are too many contenders to count for second place! I must win the lottery, pronto!

I'll end this post by telling you I have not yet received my birthday perfume, and I'm seriously beginning to doubt I will. Not to spoil the surprise, but I broke the bank and ordered the Parure, and because I had a little extra birthday money, I ordered the white bee bottle. Well. At least, I thought I ordered it. I found it online at escentual.co.uk. At least, I thought I found it. You see, all the other sites said, "SORRY! SOLD OUT!" But not escentual.co.uk. No. They let me select one and click Add to Basket, give my credit card number and mailing address...on and on with the endless charade they went, making me register, sending me an email regarding my new order, and then--nothing. Nothing. I log in with my user ID and password to check the status of my order, and there it sits, "Processing." That's all. "Processing." No email about being out of stock or delays or when to expect anything. Just weeks of "Processing." They haven't charged me for it, of course, but still, a little courtesy email would be nice. A little "We're having trouble filling your order" or something. I'm thinking I should just write to them and cancel the order and snatch up the less sexy EDT bottle that's still available elsewhere, for a lot less money. But doggone it, I really had my heart set on that bee bottle! I've looked elsewhere and been unable to find it, and lord knows I am not secure enough to do something like call Guerlain and beg.

And speaking of Guerlain, today I received a decant of Liu I ordered, and I'm terribly worried the heat has ruined it. When I took it out of the envelope, the bottle was quite hot to the touch. But really, what was I thinking, ordering perfume in this heat? Hopefully it will be okay, as Bob got it out of the mail box right after it was delivered. I would be hopping mad, if I weren't too hot to hop.

*image from Barneys, Ginger Lily, and escentual.co.uk

Etro Royal Pavillion

Probably you already knew this, but noshing on dark chocolate while you're trying to sample and discuss a perfume...not the best idea. Maybe if you're trying something gourmand, it works, but not for anything else. I'm just saying. I've been wearing this fragrance for several days, however, so I don't think any harm's done tonight.

The thing about Etro: I've enjoyed every perfume I've tried from this house, but I tend to forget them, lickety-split. Or at least I think I forget them. I don't think I've put one on my "to buy" list yet, but I realized I reference Shaal Nur on a somewhat regular basis, so I must have been impressed. I'll have to wear it again and see, because if I really, really like it (cue Sally Field), then it'll have to duke it out with Royal Pavillion in a back alley in order to win back my affections.

Oh gosh. This truffle is filled with raspberry.

Uh, anyway, Royal Pavillion. Notes!
Top: rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, mimosa, violet
Heart: sandalwood, vetiver, oakmoss
Base: castoreum, civet

Jasmine and mimosa dominate the top, and the mimosa here is greener than it is sweet, setting up a terrific entrance for the woody, grassy heart. All the other flowers are quiet, particularly violet, which I think is also more of the green variety. The kickers for me are the vetiver and oakmoss, in the heart nonetheless, not in the base where they usually hang out. The mid notes under the floral add pepper and spice, and the animalic end...I hate to say it and I know better just from looking at the list of notes, but I wanted Bond's Saks for Her to really turn the white floral on its ear. I put all my stock in the vetiver in the base. It wasn't to be. While that one is ladylike and beautifully done, Royal Pavillion is more of what I've been looking for.

So many white florals are clean white blossoms, crisp or creamy, tropical or businesslike, tucked behind an ear or held in a bouquet. Royal Pavillion is a white flower pulled from a coat pocket the morning after, slightly crushed, its petals browning at the edges, telling the whole story of the night before: the memory of heat, of the smell of a man dancing close, of the long hours that follow. It's the fragrance of yellowed scrapbooks filled with crushed petals and photos of nightclubs, women in dark lipstick and white satin gowns, dancing to a live band. I find it elegant and sensual, and surprisingly easy to wear in the daytime.

Now, where is that Shaal Nur? I sense a storm brewing...

*photo from Aedes

Playing Hooky

I meant to have a post today, really I did! But I wound up playing hooky from the blog and going to see The Bourne Ultimatum instead. Mea culpa! I shall return tomorrow. A lovely evening to you all.

Reader's Journal: So Many Books, So Little Time

How I wish I could claim that title--So Many Books, So Little Time--but in fact it belongs to Sara Nelson's book, a collection of essays about reading. Ms. Nelson set out to read a different book every week for one year and chronicle her experience. This isn't the sort of book I usually buy, but one day several months ago I went to the bookstore to do a little retail therapy (a note here: books and perfume are the best retail therapy because they will never remind you of weight gain, new lines around your eyes, or your desperate need of a pedicure) and picked this up, thinking it might be sort of amusing.

If you've ever met a person you really liked, someone whom you wanted to befriend, and you've had one of those conversations with said person--over lunch, say--where you find yourself constantly nodding your head in vigorous agreement at everything and punctuating the end of stories with "Me too!", then you understand my experience with this book. Any dedicated reader can tell you stories regarding her plans and schemes for reading, and any dedicated reader can tell you those plans generally fail.

Ms. Nelson began the year with a reasonable premise: as an avid and longtime reader, she made a relatively short and pragmatic list of books she'd been meaning to read but never got to for various reasons, but she ensured her list was not so long that she couldn't account for the occasional impulse purchase or recommendation from a friend. As she walks the reader through her year, she takes on such topics as: Is it okay to double-book yourself...you know, with books? (Answer: YES!) What if you've tried and tried but you can't finish a book? (See: Don DeLillo's Underworld) What if the book you brought on vacation is all wrong for the place and time? (See: "Ambitious Beach Reader" or "Nabokov and Mann at the Shore") What if someone loans you his favorite book, and you hate it? (Not going there.) What about books made into movies? (Wonder Boys--pretty good! Empire Falls--Ed Harris and Paul Newman were great! Under the Tuscan Sun--wouldn't touch the movie with a ten-foot pole!) What about the books you go back to again and again, instead of picking up something new (and perhaps equally compelling)? (The Secret History; Two Girls, Fat and Thin; Diary of a Mad Housewife; anything by Flannery O'Connor, Lorrie Moore, or Alice Munro; Straight Man; Rare and Endangered Species...the list goes on!)

I nodded and "Me too!"-ed (forgive the mangled phrase) all the way through this book. Sara Nelson and I could be best friends, at least when it comes to books. For example, she shuns the overrated writer (and as an editor, she shuns with good reason). I also shun overrated writers! She hated The Bridges of Madison County and thought it read like a bad screenplay. Me too! She makes lists of things to read and then gets distracted and doesn't read them. Oh, oh, I do that! Schlocky, "deep" best sellers about "life lessons" annoy the hell out of her. Come sit next to me, Sara!

Sara Nelson's book echoes my reading life experience. Everywhere, I find sticky notes with book titles and authors scrawled on them: in my purse, in my notebook at work, in desk drawers at work and at home, in the car, in kitchen drawers, stuck in other books as bookmarks. About twice a year I dutifully copy all of these titles into "A Book Lover's Diary," a gift from my mother several years ago, one of those blank books where you record the titles in your library or thoughts about something you've read. Always, I find several titles both on sticky notes and already recorded in the book, and always, I tell myself, "That will be my next purchase. I clearly want to read that book!" Of course, I never get to it. There's always something else to read. It finally got so bad that this year I went around the house and wrote down all the books I own but have never taken the time to read (or read all the way through), with the solemn plan to read what I have and buy no more books until the list was at least half-conquered. There are 66 books on the list. I've read four of them. Not so good, this reading plan of mine. Well, unless I list all the books I bought (even though I said I wasn't going to) this year that I have read. If that counts, then I'm tracking to plan.

**Update: It occurred to me after I wrote this that one of the reasons I enjoyed this book so much is that it reads like a blog--one you can read lying in bed. I don't know if you've tried that with a computer, but I found it doesn't work so well.

*image from Powells