Humble Apologies

Work is in my way! No rest for the weary, I'm afraid, and no time to share my thoughts with you. For Guerlain "week," so far I've worn Rue de Paix, Metallica (oh my!), and Parure (okay, that's a favorite, not a new sample for me...I cheated a little today), and I promise to have thoughts on these and others in the near future.

Have a lovely evening everyone!

Guerlain Chant d'Aromes

This "week" (because my perfume weeks are like dog years) I'll be sampling a different Guerlain fragrance each day, and today's is Chant d'Aromes.

Top: mandarin, bergamot, honeysuckle
Heart: gardenia, jasmine, ylang-ylang
Base: sandalwood, earthy forest note, vanilla

This baby's a puzzle. The whole of this scent is classic, recognizably Guerlain, but with a twist. For I swear, and I don't know if it's my personal chemistry or if it's the scent itself, but this one has a bit of what I can only call stank to it. And what, pray tell, is stank? Well, it's a bit of something dirty underneath the ladylike floral goings on up top. It's rich dark earth mixed with something I can only characterize as slight decay, the never-ending work of nature of pushing life up from the soil and then somehow demanding its return.

The bergamot is bright enough, but made slightly bitter by the mandarin and tamed by the honeysuckle. The (mostly) white floral heart here is dirtier and less heady than you might expect, but without losing the fresh scent of new blooms. That earthy forest note has to be the thing working its magic, the dark rich compost of forest and flower, made palatable through sandalwood and vanilla. I know I must not be making it sound very attractive, but it is--clean yet deep, it makes me want to go dig around in the small forest behind my house. It makes me want to plant things and call them out into life.

*photo from ScentDirect

L'Aromarine Vetyver

I've said before that one of the best things about L'Aromarine, besides their prices and their ethical standards, are their adorable bottles. Luckily, their bottles hold some really nice juice as well, long-lasting, friendly scents. Okay, okay, friendly scents might not be anything to write home about, but being uppity can be tiresome.

While L'Aromarine Vetyver comes nowhere near my favorites from this vetiver "week" I've been having--those would be the Guerlain, the L'Artisan, and the Malle (Oh, I know. Uppity. Hush.)--I find it quite enjoyable to wear. The only thing that frustrates me about this one is that I cannot seem to find the notes anywhere, and there's simply no way this is a soliflore. The top is my least favorite part of this fragrance, being rather sweet and citrusy, something akin to limeade. Fortunately that fades after about ten minutes into a soft vetiver, and then that softens even further. I swear I smell sandalwood and musk in there with the vetiver, sitting close to the skin, actually making for a rather sensual and comforting experience. I felt I carried a bit of calm with me the last couple of days because of it.

And seriously, look how cute the label on that bottle is! That's the larger bottle, too, the $23.00 one. Yes! I said $23.00!

And while we're on the subject, if you spend $85.00 on fragrance at b-glowing, you get the following as a "free" gift:
L'Aromarine Oceane 1.6 oz
Crazylibellule & The Poppies 5g (assorted)
Kai Perfume Sample Vial
Filles des Iles Perfume Sample Vial (assorted)
Yosh Sample Vial (assorted)

Just use the certificate code "scent" when you check out. Good while supplies last.

*Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with b-glowing. I'm just a consumer like you are, and I'm on their mailing list. Just thought I'd pass along the news if you're interested!

*photo from amazon.com

Santa Maria Novella Vetiver and Frederic Malle Vetiver Extroidinaire

Go ahead and take away my perfume blogging license, for I do not like Santa Maria Novella Vetiver. Perhaps it would smell better on Bob. On me? Industrial strength cleanser, over a base of mildew. I swear I smell Scrubbing Bubbles. From Italy.

On the other hand (literally, I've been wearing one on the left and one on the right) I have Frederic Malle's Vetiver Extroidinaire, which, according to the FM site, is made up of 25% vetiver (That's right, folks! The highest concentration available without a prescription from a French perfumer!) and "five woody notes to play up the scent's various facets." Ever go to see a band and they sound like five or six people just standing on stage playing their instruments without much thought to anyone else on the stage? Well, this is not that band. Vetiver Extroidinaire has the same wonderful dry herbal scent as L'Artisan Vetiver, that musty incense quality that's both refreshing and cozy, yet utterly sophisticated. Full of grassy, woody harmony, this one is.

Come on. You can't be surprised I like the Malle. I never met a Malle I didn't like. (Well, okay, I met one, but it didn't like me first, so it's not my fault.)

More Vetiver Samples to Come!

I am still working the vetiver samples, but an inflamed rotator cuff (not nearly as glamorous as it sounds) is keeping me from the computer. I hope to be back to posting tomorrow.

Bois 1920 Vetiver Ambrato and L'Artisan Vetiver

Bois 1920 Vetiver Ambrato contains two notes. Can you guess what they might be? If you guessed cotton candy and Peach Riunite, then I have a bottle of something Jessica Simpson made for you right over here. If you guessed vetiver and amber, then...well...very good. Good for you. If you were able to guess that much, and then you thought to yourself, "I wonder if it's a warm, clean scent, I wonder if it's sweet grass, sweet amber incense on cool summer air," well, then, I don't really need to tell you how this one smells. You already figured it out.

But let's talk for a minute about L'Artisan Vetiver, a wonderfully harsh creation that for some reason L'Artisan felt the need to discontinue. What is that with the vetiver? Pepper? Pimento? (I had pimentos in a salad I made for dinner tonight...I swear I smell them here, too.) It's slightly citrus, but I don't think it's lemon. Grapefruit? I cannot find the notes for this one. L'Artisan no longer acknowledges its existence, Basenotes has next to nothing (although one reviewer says oakmoss and patchouli--yes on the oakmoss, as there's a wonderful mustiness under the sharp top, but no to the patchouli? Maybe patchouli? It is a bit hippie-ish, in a wonderful way.), and neither does osMoz. Although these scents smell nothing alike, L'Artisan's Vetiver is in the same spirit to me as Etro Messe de Minuit, dirty and musty and sublime. Why do they stop making scents like these? Of course, I can't complain too much about L'Artisan, but still...why?!

*photo from Luckyscent

New Post Tomorrow!

Hi all! Work has had me beat the last few days, but look for a new post tomorrow. I'll be talking about Bois 1920 Vetiver Ambrato and L'Artisan Vetiver.

Have a lovely evening!

Family Affair: Guerlain Vetiver and Parfums de Nicolai Vetiver

It was almost exactly a year ago to the day that I featured a week of vetiver fragrances, so I thought it might be fun (and timely, given the season and the arrival of summer heat) to have a repeat, featuring different scents from the vetiver samples I ordered last year. My first vetiver that week was Guerlain, so I thought it appropriate to start there again. My, what a difference a year makes! I do believe I framed this fragrance as something one might use to cover up a trip to the gym. *Hangs head in shame.* What was I thinking? If anything, let this be a lesson to all perfume fans out there. First, if you don't like the perfume, consider the fact that it might just be you. Second, time and lots and lots of sampling will tell.

To recount, Guerlain Vetiver has the following notes:
Top: orange, bergamot, lemon
Heart: pepper and nutmeg
Base: vetiver, tobacco, tonka bean

The opening is citrusy and slightly floral, reminiscent of the sweet part of the rind rather than the actual juice. The nutmeg and pepper don't take long to appear, I think because the citrus is so grounded. The nutmeg adds a little more sweet spicy depth, but the pepper...it keeps the sharper sense of citrus in the background. The end here is spicy, grassy and fresh without being overly bright. An interesting side note: wearing Guerlain Vetiver this time around, I really thought I smelled leather in the base. The Guerlain site does not list leather as a note, but osMoz does. Hm. Either way, to smell this is to understand why it's a classic.

And how daunting to have a family who has already created a classic and try to step out on your own! Patricia Nicolai is a Guerlain by blood, although her Vetiver is somewhat different than the classic scent created in 1959. With notes of vetiver, cumin, black pepper, clove, coriander, ylang-ylang, jasmine, and tonka bean, Parfums de Nicolai Vetiver launches itself with much juicier citrus top notes, which are amped up by the sweet spice of clove. This effervescent effect lasts only about thirty minutes, and then it begins to dry down into a dry spicy floral in the base, dominated mostly by the vetiver, tonka bean, and black pepper. This Vetiver reminds me of Etro Shaal Nur, dry and herbal, only less complicated, more sophisticated in its relative simplicity.

Both of these scents are a pleasure to wear. Both are considered men's fragrances, but women are crazy not to try them (and wear them), too. Ironically, the Parfums de Nicolai Vetiver comes across in the top notes as slightly more feminine, but ultimately between the two, I find the Guerlain more feminine. It has an aspect that reminds me of the base notes in Rochas Femme, one of my favorite perfumes. The PdN dries down into something that while sophisticated, definitely has the feel of a man's perfume.

*photos from Amazon.com and Parfums de Nicolai

Sage Coral and Peridot Perfume Oils

These two perfume oils, Coral and Peridot, wrap up my week of perfume oil sampling. I've enjoyed wearing these oils, but I must admit I'm anxious to get back to regular perfume. The thing about perfume oils is that they don't do much in the way of development on the skin, so there's no moving from the top and through the heart to the base. It's like getting an anecdote rather than the full story, but then sometimes the anecdote does the job. Sometimes I want to wear fragrance because I want the experience of something singular. In perfume, if you love the top notes in a scent, you only get about thirty minutes to an hour of what you love, and then it's gone. In perfume oils, the scent is the scent, mostly, and also, they tend to have great lasting power. In humid climates (like say, oh, Atlanta), that's a bonus.

But enough about perfume oils in general--let me tell you about Coral and Peridot. Coral has notes of orange blossom, mimosa, sandalwood, vanilla, and coconut. Surprisingly, this comes across less beachy or tropical than the notes may sound. Instead, this is a warm, sunny scent with a sweet freshness lent by the orange blossom and mimosa. Autumn at La Creme Beauty recommended this one to me, and she was right on the money. It's not overpowering, the sort of scent that becomes a person's aura as opposed to a person's smell.

Peridot is made up of notes of lime, cucumber, fig, freesia, and soft musk. Simply put, Peridot is more what I expected from Yosh's U4EAHH!, a slightly sweet but refreshing scent, a summer cocktail for the wrists. The freesia sort of grabs the fig and keeps it from floating away altogether, grounding the soft floral in the fresh greenness of the lime and cucumber. The one thing this scent lacks--and I think this might be true of most oils because of their nature--is the effervescence a perfume made up of these note should have. I would like for the top to sparkle a bit more, but of course, there is no "top." Still, I like it much better than the Yosh, and I find the price much less offensive.

All in all, I think my favorites from the week were Kai, Sage Perfume Oil, and Coral Perfume Oil. I own Coral, but I don't own the other two and am not sure if I would purchase them or not. I might consider the Kai, only if I don't find a gardenia perfume I like better. I must be honest: what attracted me to the Sage oils in the first place was the packaging! I'm a complete sucker for something cute that also smells nice. Hopefully those of you out there who need or want to avoid the alcohol in traditional perfumes, or those of you just looking for something to beat the heat or simply for something new found something here to spark your interest. Several places carry the Sage oils, including La Creme Beauty, Luckyscent, and Anthropologie. I believe all in all Sage offers thirteen different oils, so if none of the ones I sampled appeal to you, you might check out the others.

I'm off to pick out my vetiver samples for next week!

*photos from Luckyscent

Yosh U4EAHH! and Sage Perfume Oil

I'm not sure why poor Moea didn't get any comments. Granted, the post was short and to the point, and I guess so was the perfume oil itself. Vanilla-based scents can be fun to wear, but they are rather, uh, vanilla.

When I used to think of perfume oils, I generally thought of them as hippie-ish, full of patchouli and frankincense and...well, a lot of the notes that makes up perfumes I love! To be sure, plenty of perfume oils like that exist--and some of them are remarkable, but it's just too hot to wear them right now. But by and large, when I first started sampling perfume and tried some oils, they were mostly a new breed for me, lush tropical florals that made me long to be on a beach somewhere with a book and a fruity cocktail.

Yosh U4EAHH! and Sage Perfume Oil (by a perfumer also called Sage) fall into neither of the above-mentioned categories. U4EAHH!, with notes of pomegranate, aloe vera, cucumber, pear, and water lily, is a tart burst of fruit, green and refreshing, but rather sweet. Although I like it well enough, I find it a bit pricey ($130 for 8ml) for a scent whose notes were better lent to a shower gel or body spray than a perfume oil. For people who like very clean scents, this one works well, and the one thing it definitely has over shower gel or body spray is lasting power. Most other perfume oils are moderately priced around $45, which makes sense given they're mostly straightforward. To me, they lack the art of development. If I were going to spend this much on an oil, I think Yosh's White Flowers would be the better choice.

Sage Perfume Oil, with notes of sage, sweet pea, African musk, tonka bean, and hints of cucumber, is more up my alley, both price- and scent-wise. It's also refreshing, and the cucumber notes lend the same watery quality that seem to cool the scent, but the soft herbal quality is what appeals to me the most with this one. Sage can be overpowering, but here it's light, almost powdery (I think that's the tonka bean at work), and any edgy incense quality is removed by the sweet pea and musk. This one is a desert breeze, cooling and soothing in the summer, adding a hint of soft warmth to the winter. I got this sample because I actually wanted to purchase it, and it was sold out! It's still on my list to buy. It comes in a EDT form as well, but I prefer the oil for its lasting power and how close it stays to the skin.

*photos from Luckyscent

Moea Perfume Oil

Please pardon me, but tonight's post will be short and sweet, first because I am tired from a long day and have laundry to put away, and second because I don't have much to say about Moea Perfume Oil. No, no, nothing's the matter with this sweet little oil. In fact, quite the contrary. Moea, which contains notes of Tahaa vanilla, tiare flower, and coco monoi (essentially, coconut oil infused with tiare flowers), is a lovely tropical treat. It's not particularly original in terms of scent. The vanilla dominates most of the experience, although if you lean in close, you can smell a hint of the flowers. The lasting power on this is superb. Bob and I took a walk this afternoon in the muggy post-thunderstorm heat, and I could still smell Moea, although it had dried to a softer floral vanilla. I personally like the undertone of the coconut oil. It makes me think of the beach, as well as long for the days when it was safe (and possible) to lay by the pool all day. Moea is a little vacation on the wrist.

*photo from Luckyscent

Kai Perfume Oil

Today marks the first day of a week (or so) of posts on perfume oils. I've always worn EDP or EDT formulations (and parfum, on rarer occasions), but not so much perfume oils, or at least not until I got into sampling. My first trials were with the Majenty oils, Hidden Cove, Embrace the Day, and After Hours. After that I tried Yosh White Flowers (which frankly, I'd forgotten I'd tried--and really liked!), and then a kind reader sent me a sample of Child, because she wanted to know how it compared to Embrace the Day.

Right off the bat, let me tell you: The one thing all of these oils have in common is white florals. If you're a white floral hater--or, more specifically, if white florals run after you with large clubs until they mow you down and beat you senseless about the neck and head--then proceed with caution. The good thing about perfume oils is that they create little or no sillage, thereby foregoing the headache-inducing aura that might offend people around you. The other good thing (depending on how you look at it) with perfume oils is that they produce a scent that's very "true"--meaning, if real gardenias cause your noggin to throb, then any number of these perfume oils might do the same.

Kai perfume oil, although said to be made up of gardenia and "white exotic florals," comes across to my nose as pretty much straight gardenia, fresh blooms still on the bush, creamy white against dark green leaves, conveying both the warmth of the flower and the coolness of the plant in the shade. The lasting power is quite good, although I found it lasted best when I rubbed a bit into the crook of each arm. It's fresh, pretty, and straightforward.

In terms of comparing it to all the other oils I have listed here, Embrace the Day is the closest, gardenia mixed with jasmine and plumeria. It's mostly gardenia, but the jasmine dirties it up a little. The Kai seems more true, more fresh, and of these two, it's the one I prefer. Compared to the other celebrity-loved perfume in the bunch, Child: Child, which features jasmine as its star white flower, leans more toward perfume. I pick up a hint of citrus, and also something that lends it a slight sharp, powdery edge. Child has a slight scent of artifice about it, where Embrace the Day and Kai both feel a bit more natural. I originally preferred Child to Embrace the Day, but now I find I feel the opposite--and I prefer the Kai to them both!

*photo from Luckyscent

Annick Goutal Eau du Ciel

Late in the day, but as promised, I'm here to talk about Eau du Ciel. Let's cut to the chase. Eau du Ciel contains notes of Brazilian rosewood, violet, Floretin iris, and lime blossom. The Annick Goutal site proclaims this scent to be "tender as an angel's wing." I find that puzzling, because although this fragrance is somewhat ethereal, it does not have the underlying sweetness, the delicacy of a scent so tender. If I had to pick a scent to fit that description, it would probably be one of the more "tender" white florals, like Frederic Malle Lys Mediterranee with its haunting blend of lily, orange blossom, vanilla and musk, softly transparent and of the air, or even La Chasse.

Eau du Ciel is also a somewhat transparent scent, but it has a deep amethyst hue. Lime blossom sets the tone, bright green and slightly sweet, refreshing as the fruit itself in a glass of sparkling water. Iris lends a floral quality to the scent that is deepened here by the presence of the violet. The violet here is not candied or artificial, as it sometimes comes across to me in other scents. I'm not offended by that sort of violet, the kind that displays artifice and turns it on its head, but I enjoy the woody greenness of violet in Eau du Ciel. Rosewood grounds the scent further, makes it slightly warmer on the skin, and lends lasting power. The sparkle fades but the warmth remains, much the way the air beneath shade trees still holds the warmth of the sun after it has set.

*photo from Annick Goutal

Sample Tomorrow!

Hi folks. Just checking in to let you know I haven't abandoned Sweet Diva again. It's been an overwhelming week at work, but I promise to have a post tomorrow on Annick Goutal Eau de Ciel.

Have a lovely evening!

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