Soft, irresistible and classy Apricot in traditional Rose Patchouli When I was trying Dolce Bacio for the first time my first thought was "basic Rose Patchouli" and I was thinking Apricot didn't play a big enough role in the scent. It felt like it was hiding too long the first few times I used it. However, I sprayed it one day when I went to the gym and my husband immediately asked what scent I was wearing and you could see from his face that he liked the smell. Since that I have been totally in love with it and I definitely need a full bottle of it. Dolce Bacio opens up with a beautiful, powerful yet fresh and airy rose and green, bright, earthy Patchouli, and right at the beginning there is no hint of Apricot. That's why it feels so familiar because I love roses and I love Rose Patchouli scents, I have plenty of them. There has to be something special about the scent for me to need another one for my collection. However, it only takes half an hour and Apricot is clearly noticeable. There's nothing groundbreaking about this scent, but like La baguette (Fendi), it works in all its simplicity, this one is also sweetly charming and seductive. Apricot brings just the right amount of something extra to the scent to make it work and be interesting. It's not really sweet, nor is it overtly juicy, but it makes the scent velvety and slightly powdery with a subtle Apricot aroma. After my initial disappointment, my opinion has changed and I like that the scent is not so strongly fruity nor sweet. For this reason, the scent remains elegant and does not become playful or too youthful. As the scent develops, the rose and patchouli become gentler and the apricot becomes clearer, but each role remains until the end. This has nothing to do with Trésor which is very sweet, clearly fruity perfume. The longevity and sillage are both great and the scent stays in the clothes many days. Thank you for reading, I hope you liked my review. I would appreciate if you follow my IG: @ninamariah_perfumes It gives me a lot of motivation to write more. 🤗
What a beautiful creation, natural Ambergris can hardly get any better than this, unless you start wading through the jungle of artisanal and indie fragrances. If you want a fragrance that is also easy to use somewhere else but home and is wearable in every kind of way, then Ambre Suprême is definitely worth a try. There is 10% Ambre gris in this juice which is very rare to find from the market. Almost all "Amber gris" in perfumes is synthetic. In Ambre Suprême there is a silky smooth, tame animalic natural Ambergris - it feels salty, sensual, like the skin after swimming in the sea. It's addictive, I can't stop smelling my wrist when wearing this one. There are delicate, subtle florals in the heart but the scent is so well blended that honestly, my attention is drawn to Ambergris because that aroma is so special here. There are not spices on my skin. Aquatic or fresh, which I have seen in accords, must be due to the maritime atmosphere that comes from the scent since this is not that kind of watery aquatic nor fresh in the way it is usually understood. Even if I didn't like the simplicity in Oriental Velours and Cuir de Chine, here it absolutely works. I'm totally in love with this scent. Thank you for reading, I hope you liked my review. I would appreciate if you follow my IG: @ninamariah_perfumes It gives me a lot of motivation to write more. 🤗
Besides Oriental Velours, Cuir de Chine is one of the simplest scents from Les Indemodables. There is a leather note which is typical from Osmanthus and there is a fruity kind of aroma which is a little bit dirty and not so attractive. An utterly light tobacco is lurking in the background but it's not smoky. For those who are not so familiar with Osmanthus, main accords look really misleading - this is definitely not traditionally fruity nor even traditionally leathery (like Osmanthus never is). The scent is made of good quality ingredients like all from LI but I'm still disappointed with this and it's a way too simple and boring. I realize that I'm not the right target group, because either I miss a little power and complexity in fragrances made from such natural ingredients, or the scent has to be a solifore of one of my favorite notes. I think this is more masculine and it's really great for work where you can't smell much, because the scent is completely intimate. Longevity is moderate. Osmanthus alcoolat Chine Grand Cru 10%, Jasmin absolue Égypte fin de récolte Grand Cru 1%, Osmanthus absolue Chine 1%, Tabac blond absolue Turquie 0.2% Contient de l’essence de Sauge sclarée des Alpes* Thank you for reading, I hope you liked my review. I would appreciate if you follow my IG: @ninamariah_perfumes It gives me a lot of motivation to write more. 🤗
Oriental Velours is very difficult to put into the words since it's so simple. It doesn't bring any kind of scenes or memories into my mind. Its very subtle scent, mainly resinous aroma from Myrrh sweetened with Vanilla and Spruce bringing green woody balsamic nuances to it. The scent is pleasant, warm and cozy, it's calming because of aromatic touch in it. Personally, it's very difficult to see this scent anywhere else but when I'm relaxing at home, on the sofa, the fireplace warming next to me but it's beautiful scent for such a purpose. This is a bright and light scent, also in terms of structure. The vanilla is airy and not at all too sweet. Jasmine is a supportive note here. Oriental Velours is totally unisex but I but I feel like it's more attractive on men because of the woody aromatic character. Vetiver is clearly visible in the scent, but it is very soft and velvety. Absolutely a good quality scent but I just feel that something is missing. Jasmin alcoolat Inde Grand cru 5%, Vanille verte oléorésine Madagascar Grand cru 2,5%, Myrrhe essence Somalie 15%, Vétiver essence spéciale Haïti Grand Cru 10% Contient de l’essence d’Épicéa des Alpes* I'm rarely this laconic in my reviews, but sometimes less is more. Thank you for reading, I hope you liked my review. I would appreciate if you follow my IG: @ninamariah_perfumes It gives me a lot of motivation to write more. 🤗
Angel Fantasm is what I would consider and effective flanker release. It’s tricky trying to keep a fragrance line which is over 30 years old alive, but I believe Mugler are doing a pretty good job. This scent takes the general idea of the original Angel, making it more palatable for the current market and on trend for what gourmand means these days. It retains the intensely sweet vanillic caramel aspect, which is sticky and delicious. However, it tones down the dark chocolatey patchouli, and completely removes the spicy elements. What you’re left with is this thick caramel, alongside vanilla and coconut. It’s sweetness overload. As I said it’s very on trend for today’s market, as lots of other popular gourmands follow this barrage of sweetness. I like it, it’s a pleasant scent but I wouldn’t buy it - it does overall lack originality and interest for me.
What a seriously impressive fragrance Angel is, for a scent like this to be released in 1992 - this was way ahead of its time. You may love it or hate it, but this pioneered the subfamily of gourmand fragrances which would become one of the most popular scent profiles in today’s market. At its core, this is a chocolatey patchouli fragrance - it’s got a surprisingly dark element with this creamy, delectable earthiness. To counter this, there’s noticeable warm spicy touches from nutmeg and cumin, alongside an overwhelming sweetness coming from honeyed florals, sweet vanilla, sticky caramel and an array of fruits. There’s so much going on here it’s hard to pick things out, but that spicy, chocolatey patchouli is what sticks out most to me. It’s not really my style of fragrance if I’m honest, but I can’t deny the influence and impact this had on the perfume industry; making it a true modern classic.
The Most Wanted, ironic name because I couldn’t possibly want this fragrance any less. Is this seriously what passes for good on the designer market these days? I honestly cannot imagine someone over the age of 15 even considering wearing this dreadful scent. A very simple note breakdown, with toffee at its core. I have to give it credit, it does smell of toffee, although it’s almost sickly sweet. Combined with an obnoxious amount of amberwoods though, and it ruins the whole scent with its scratchy soapiness. It’s somehow sweet and fresh at the same time; I can see why that would be desired amongst teenagers. It just reeks of adolescence and immaturity, which is fine if you’re of that age, but no adult should be wearing this.
With a name as absolute as ‘The Scent’, you would expect something groundbreaking - as though this is THE only scent a man could need. You would be dead wrong, this is The Scent every man should avoid, unless you want to smell like the most boring person on the planet. It’s a sort of fresh, citrusy lavender thing with sharp, scratchy bursts of ginger and horrible synthetic-smelling woods. There’s some sense of coherence, but very little; it’s just shy of a total disaster. It’s the same generic fresh scent profile we’ve been smelling for years now on the designer market. When will these brands stop repackaging the same scent into new bottles? Probably never as they wouldn’t be doing it if it didn’t sell, clearly something about this horrid DNA works for a lot of people. I can’t wrap my head around it.
Straight up Autumn Potpurri for me: Nutmeg, Clove, Vanilla and Gingerbread with a distinct tobacco top note. Could be a nostalgic scent for the holidays.
Early on in my fragrance journey, I thought of rose scents—along with most florals, really—as something outside my wheelhouse. Despite being theoretically opposed to the idea of gender in perfume, in practice I still tend to gravitate towards more unisex or masc-coded smells. However, I’ve become increasingly interested in the idea that wearing a rose fragrance could be a cool flex for me and I’ve been seeking out weirder” roses (whether green, earthy, peppery, salty, or otherwise) that read as “unisex” to me. Of the ones I’ve found, Jorum’s Rose Highland might be my favourite. It’s a cool, bracing scent that opens with a startlingly realistic ocean breeze, salty and mineralic, surrounding the impression of wild rosebushes with herbaceous notes that vividly transport you to a Scottish cliff carpeted with scrubby, flowering heather, overlooking the ocean. Basil imparts an aromatic green touch as sharp pink pepper and cloves spice up the rose’s supporting florals (geranium, rhododendron, and jasmine). This isn’t some pampered hothouse rose, it’s a rugged, thorny one, with just a handful of dark-red blooms. It has a forlorn, solitary flavour, bleak but romantic, perfect for gazing longingly out to sea while swathed in a shaggy Shetland sweater and tartan scarf, listening to plaintive Scottish indie pop. As it dries down, the oceanic notes recede and the rose blooms seem to dessicate into dried petals wrapped in a woody, grassy vetiver, still salty, maybe a little tear-stained. It’s a beautiful, evocative scent that I find very unisex, and it’s also an extrait with impressive stamina: like a cliffside shrub, it’s built to last and won’t be uprooted by inclement weather. Quite possibly my overall favourite Jorum creation (though their recent release Boswellia Scotia is also a top contender).🌹 🥀 🌹
Though I've had this bottle of Niki de Saint Phalle for years, I've been avoiding pinning down my thoughts on this one. I am not sure how much the woman had to do with the creation of the perfume, but Niki de Saint Phalle was a French-American artist and filmmaker renowned for her distinctive sculptures of voluptuous vividly colored, giant, joyously conquering women. The perfume was launched in 1982 but it smells like my imaginings of the early 70s It's a delicately spicy, mossy green-leafed potion, with notes of wormwood, carnation, leather, peach, and soft aldehydes. It's complex, yet eerily balanced and I can't get a handle on any one note. It makes me think of a meandering, plotless arthaus film that you loved for the visuals and the atmosphere and the score, and even though you didn't understand a thing that was going on, you're still daydreaming about it decades later.
Imaginary Authors Fox in the Flowerbed is all fluttering spring petals, light feathery wings on a playful breeze, and unsettlingly intimate musks. Even the honeyed jasmine, usually so heavy, heralding summer's muggy fug, feels like a gossamer dream on a cool, April evening. In a philosophical sense, it makes me think of that poet from antiquity musing on whether he is a butterfly dreaming he is a man, or a man dreaming he is a butterfly. In a more carnal sense, however, it is a perfume that conjures the beautifully tender, kinky lepidopteran weirdness of The Duke of Burgundy's bizarre love story. I know a fragrance inspired by the film already exists, but somehow Fox in the Flowerbed does a more proper and true job of it.
I first tried Anne Pliska ages ago and it didn’t really speak to me then, but also I think that maybe I wasn’t ready to listen. Now I am all ears. Or nostrils, I guess. This is an amber-vanilla fragrance that has a very low-key time-traveling vintage vibe, it’s almost a cross between Obsession and Shalimar, but it’s not as muscle-bound aggressive an amber as the former and it’s not the prim, fussy powderiness of the latter. The notes of orange and bergamot eventually appear for me, in the form of a creamy citrus –not a juicy slice of fruit, but rather a soft, subtle molecular gastronomy desert-type thing, foam piped in filigrees and dusted with bitter chocolate flakes and vanilla salt. Oddly enough, before that, I get the weirdest hint of plums and pencils and an odd combination of purple stone fruit and cedar shavings that are briefly beautiful and then completely disappear as if they had never been there at all. For all the incoherent amalgamation of things I have described, this is a wonderfully easy-to-wear fragrance that is perfectly lovely. Not exactly cozy, it’s a mite too peculiar for that, but for all its eccentricities it’s somehow incredibly comfortable for me to wear? I guess when finally listened to what Anne Pliska had to say, it turns out we speak the exact same quirky language.
Inspired by the Huysmans novel, and meant to transport the wearer to “Saint Sulpice church in Paris's 6th Arrondissement uprooted and transported to NYC's upper east side, ” I think I can...eventually... smell all of these inspirations in Là-Bas. However, this scent opens on a bit of an iffy note for me and it’s initially not what I expected: it’s a fruity rose that thinks pretty highly of itself and makes me think of Rita Skeeter’s platinum curls, bejeweled spectacles, and crimson nails. I don't love it at this stage. But in the blink of an eye, it becomes this profane, unholy fog of oakmoss, birch tar, musky leather, and smoky vanilla black mass of a thing, and it truly does conjure visions of disillusioned writers, gothic horror, and mystical murders. Imagine if Rita Skeeter unzipped her human suit and out stepped a glamorous, chain-smoking demon tabloid reporter who writes decadent, scandalous musings about all the astrologists, alchemists, fortune-tellers, mediums, faith healers, exorcisers, necromancers, wizards, and satanists of the time. Gossip is the devil’s telephone and all that, and if this fiendish, fascinating fragrance is ringing, I am gonna take that call every time.
Laboratorio Ollfattivo's Need_U is a slight, subtle scent of bitter citrus peel and aromatic zest accompanied by mildly piney juniper berries and the nostril-singing sting of effervescence. I am not sure what they need here, is it a Campari and soda? I mean, I can certainly relate to that. But I don’t know that I need a whole perfume about it.
Ineke’s Hot House Flower is a gardenia soliflore that smells like a cybernetic tropical bloom, green foliage that has become self-aware, and the simulation of lushness accompanied by cool circuitry. Like if Skynet’s neural networks got hooked on plant haul videos on YouTube and went into botany instead of killer robots.
Blocki's In Every Season is the gorgeous zing and fizz of pink grapefruit, balanced with the elegance and gravitas of precisely cut green stems, jasmine and tuberose’s floral summer opulence, tempered by the shadows of early spring violets peeping through the melting snow, and wound round with gauzy musk that smells like starlight on your skin. This is probably the most lovely and perfect white floral composition I have ever smelled, despite the next association I am going to throw out there. It conjures a stepmother in a VC Andrews novel, a strikingly handsome, chilly blonde from old money with impeccable taste, and unimpeachable manners. She lives in a big, fancy house, there’s this whole big screwed up family, this generational saga of dysfunction and trauma and next thing you know her husband shows up with a teenage girl from a previous marriage about which he has just decided to confess. So now here’s this surprise daughter, a young woman from a desperate situation, who dreams of better life and works, struggles, and schemes to achieve these dreams. And then when she finds herself under the cruel, calculating, controlling gaze of her beautiful blonde stepmother, she comes to realize that her dreams come true are actually worse than the life she just escaped. So…what am I saying? I don’t know. A good perfume can make you smell nice, but a great one can cover up a multitude of sins? I don’t think that’s how it works, but In Every Season should be the great one we reach for to try it this theory out.
Fully synthetic smelling. No oud, as with other Guerlains. If they're using oud, it's trace amounts just to say it's there, and this one doesn't smell remotely like oud. People who talk about "the oud" in this perfume haven't smelled oud. Very strong cardamom (like the opening of Épices Exquises) with some fig and patchouli and an enormous whack of sandalwood aroma-chemicals (I'm getting a LOT of stemone and probably janavol). This type of thing is fine, but the price is criminal considering you can buy perfumes with real oud and real mysore sandlewood in them which smell infinitely more beautiful and special and which cost the same or less per ml.
The perfume that made me love iris again. Although there are more complex and more beautiful iris scents, this i would recommend to anyone who is averse to the note.
An absolutely stunning fragrance. Amber done right.
Opening is a little aromatic and herbal with lavender, and a slight touch of citrus.
The warmth is apparent straight away. The resinous labdanum, benzoin and vanilla are ridiculously smooth and warm and create the perfect amber accord.
It is comforting and sensual and luxurious.
Complicated Shadows from 4160 Tuesdays is a perfume for the insomniac hours, late-night strolls wandering through the deserted streets of your hometown, familiar landmarks strangely distorted by the play of moonlight and shadow. The warm, velvety sandalwood whispers in contrast to the chilling "shade" note, evoking the breathless hush of liminal, in-between spaces. The iris and narcissus here are shrouded in mystery, their earthy floral murmurations laced with a tang of acrid irony, simmering existential angst below the surface of introspective ponderings. Veiled in a bitter vanilla mist, it's the uncanny reverie, nocturnal glooms, and haunting landscapes of the dreamless, lost in the dark.
I don't like comparing perfumes to each other, especially comparisons of something a niche or indie creator has made, to something from one of the big houses...and I hear artists of all ilks, all the time, bemoaning how they hate being compared to other artists. So apologies in advance to my beloved artists amongst us here, but I know that sometimes comparisons to something you are already familiar with can be helpful in evaluating something new.
That said, my first impression of Complicated Shadows was one of cool, dusky elegance... and there's a definite kinship with Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue, that melancholic masterpiece shrouded in powdery twilight. However, Complicated Shadows sheds the heavy cloak of powder, revealing a more approachable, contemporary feel. L'Heure Bleue, as much as I want to love it, has never been my cup of tea. But Complicated Shadows? I could drink it by the bucketful. In the dark. In the middle of a deserted road. At the stroke of midnight.
A deeply gothic glamour amber, a musky murky chypre-adjacent fragrance that smells simultaneously like the figure in the white nightdress running from the manor house with the lone candle lit in the window at midnight and the surprise succubus that this figure is secretly possessed by--it's all the iconic tropes of Avon Satanic Romance novel, and it's perfect.
Jo Malone’s Mallow on the Moors is a fragrance I hoped might smell a little haunted. Well. It does...sort of? Not really in the way I was expecting, though. More like a parody from someone who didn't realize they were writing a parody, which some might look at as a little unfortunate for their creation (no one wants to be unintentionally funny, you know?), but hey, it could also be fun, right? Imagine you’re a buttoned-up gothic novelist who’s never even taken a lover, and fate has led you straight into the arms of a rakish lothario, a real Bluebeard type. Imagine swoons, sighs, ghosts, old gothic castles, manor grounds, bodies buried in the poison gardens, dead wives in attics, and all that jazz. And then the camera pans out, and this is a Hammer horror production directed by Anna Biller starring Lana del Rey, and it’s trying real hard to be ethereal and phantasmal and misty moors and mossy castles, but somehow it is all high camp and glinting artifice, real Real Housewives of Manderley energy. As to what it smells like, imagine the luminous violet powder of broken, scattered Guerlain Meteorites and the brassy hairspray, champagne-tossed-in-your-faceness of Tom Ford Jasmine Rouge. Imagine all of that sprayed on Dita von Teese in La Perla clutching a guttering candelabra channeling Frau Blücher.
Mistpouffer from Stora Skuggan smells of cool, sweet, powdery porcelain, dainty and delicate like a small ivory sculpted ballerina on a shelf, but there’s a weirdly mineralic, off-kilter herbal note as well, wrapped up in a bit of foggy fluff, almost like a little gossamer candy-floss salted black licorice bouquet. Ultimately it reminds me of the ceramic Broken Ladies of artist Jessica Harrison--charmingly feminine figurines, bloodied with intricate anatomical horrors--perhaps a bit too much for sensitive types, but those of you who dig macabre delights will love these twisted ceramic beauties. And I think that’s what Mistpouffer is, too: a soft, subtly twisted beauty.
