Reviews by EugeniaLOL

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    EugeniaLOL
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    Showing 1 to 9 of 9.
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    Secret Oud by Caron

    This is initially a little smoky, then resinous, woody, delicious rose. Yes to rose, yes to oud, yes to frighteningly well balanced warm and rich supporting notes, none of which rudely grab attention. gimmegreen is wearing the same stuff I am, I think, but I'm familiar with Perles de Lalique, and this is not it, so I'm really not sure what JackTwist is wearing. Not to say that Perles isn't praiseworthy, it's just different. Comparisons are odious, of course, but this is woodier (oudier?) and mellower, for a start. More cello. I like it a great deal.

    10th October, 2014

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    Sentiment for Men by Escada

    My newbie nose smells generic but pleasant lime on top for about ten, maybe fifteen minutes -- then a very nice synthetic sandalwood that I suspect is mostly Iso-E-Super . . . which makes it something I quite like. Not much else. Good for layering, as it plays nice with others, being simple.

    14th June, 2011

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    Silences by Jacomo

    Continuing my (maybe interesting to no one but myself, but absolutely fascinating to me!) total n00bi journey into vintage green-floral-chypres, this is my next-favorite after Niki de Saint Phalle. I've also just tried Molinard de Molinard yesterday, and Paloma Picasso and Ivoire de Balmain recently. My nose isn't smart enough yet to describe the actual differences between these closely related frags, so I can only talk about them in terms of how they make me feel. (So if you want a comparison of notes, you're on your own. I have no idea what makes them do what they do.)

    - To my mind, NdSP is basically perfect, and these others are variations on her theme. It's deep, fascinating, laughing, thoughtful, and everything I want to be. Everything I want to be perceived as.

    - I don't love Paloma and while I wouldn't turn down a free bottle, I don't think I'll be buying one. It doesn't do anything . . . more. Or better. (Plus the bottle design is hard to open! At least in mini form. No way to get at the juice in the middle without scratching up that ominous barrier ring of blackness, which turns out to be just basic plastic, which kinda detracts from the glamour.) And the drydown is unsatisfying.

    Ivoire de Balmain is more assertive and has absolutely monster sillage on me -- to the point that my husband can tell when I'm wearing even a dab (and he is actively bothered by it, so I try not to wear it at home). It has all of the interest and none of the kindness or joy I feel in some of these. I would wear it to impress and intimidate underlings, or middle-school students, or phone company employees, and make them not even THINK of defying me.

    Molinard de Molinard, conversely, has all of the joy and less of the interest. It's all about the happy side. I will wear it to cheer up on gloomy days, or to make people want to be nice to me. No darkness here at all. Also no longevity! It's gone on my skin, except for a whisper, after two, maybe three hours.

    Silences is lovely. It has that one delicious element in the drydown that I most crave from NdSP . . . but, somehow, not as much complexity. It gets to the drydown much faster, with fewer facets along the way. There's less there there. But I do want a full bottle, to wear it often over time, to figure it out -- and, by comparison, to figure Niki out. Right now, I have this sneaking, unfounded suspicion that what draws me to Niki above Silences is something odd, something off; something akin to a wild artistic streak that some might call mental illness. A personification of a hint of the "nervous breakdown" that the wildly talented, real life Niki de Saint Phalle had in her early adulthood, when the pressures and vile ridiculousnesses of her time and station (well-heeled but no longer well-off, brilliant, liberated in thought, conventional in practice) got to be too much for a while. Silences might make all too much sense. It might be too well balanced.

    I know -- maybe it's the mythos of NdSP, of her life, of my associations with it, that make me prefer it slightly to Silences. I'm not sure yet. I am excited to figure it out. I'll come back and write more when I do. :)

    08th June, 2011

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    31 rue Cambon by Chanel

    Meh. I don't have the perfume vocabulary to describe this one well at all. Suffice it to say for now that the opening, especially the fruit, reminds me of the miasma of fruity crap women poured on to go to clubs in the 90s. I'm sure 31 Rue arrives at that fruitiness with none of the tawdriness of those clubs, but memory is strong. The drydown is not very interesting to me -- maybe the sort of thing I'll learn to appreciate once I've tried more and thought about it more, but for now, it just sort of smells like perfume. Perfumey. Commercial perfumey. High-quality commercial perfumey. Maybe even Chanel-y, though I'm not sure I recognize that well yet.

    It's certainly pleasant -- vastly more so than others of its era, not that that would be a challenge -- and I will likely use up my sample. Perhaps that will root it in my mind and I'll find I miss it later. I wouldn't be surprised if I did, or if I didn't.

    jtd says it "conjures the shape of a chypre" while lacking oakmoss. I agree, for whatever that's worth. Yes! The shape! It turns out I love chypres, and yes -- this is the shape of a chypre. But the drydown doesn't do that magical chypre drydown thing for me. It comes across to me as a lack of depth, of someone who wears perfume because it's important to smell nice for others rather than because s/he thinks this specific perfume suits him/her or wants to smell it herself. Probably her; I don't think I know any men who would have patience with this one.

    I'm willing to believe that my nose will evolve and I'll "get" the appeal of this one in time, but today, it just doesn't move me.

    05th June, 2011

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    Ivoire (original) by Pierre Balmain

    I am very, very new to this; I don't know many frags yet and don't have a good basis for comparison. But after hearing about it in several threads about green chypres, I dug out a mini of Ivoire that I've had for years. My current favorite is Niki de Saint Phalle, which is variously described as a green chypre oriental leather, has made me want to try other things with those descriptors to figure out how all those scent ideas work.

    So far, of the 40 scents I've seriously tried, Paloma Picasso and Ivoire de Balmain are indeed very closely related to NdSP. All go through similar stages on my skin: green opening with various strong players popping up and stepping back, not all of which I recognize, but all of which are interesting to me; early drydown (after 15-30-45 minutes) I start smelling the "oriental" wave, which I gather are the spices and perhaps the beginnings of the woods; then the long-term drydown -- after an hour and as long as it goes, which varies -- the part I love most. Wisps of the opening greens, smoke-rings of the decadent spices, and the base. Oh the base. I am still buying samples and reading largely because I want to understand that base. Is it the much-mourned, now nearly banned oakmoss? Is it an interplay of oakmoss and other tenacious basenotes as mixed by master noses? It's the drydowns that are most related to alchemy for me.

    Paloma is close to NdSP, not in detail but in overall shape. But its drydown is not as enchanting to me. I like it -- I smile when I catch a whiff -- but it doesn't make me excited to smell more, and talk about it, and get to the bottom of WHAT IS THAT INCREDIBLE SMELL?! as I do with NdSP (every time).

    Ivoire de Balmain is a little different, a little sharper, a little more assertive. I do like it, but it lacks some of the roundedness and balance that I think both NdSP and Paloma have. It keeps a slightly irritating, maybe attention-grabbing, character throughout. Ultimately, though, its drydown is disappointing to me, staying with the nose-clawing sharp greens and soapiness, never letting in the spices and -- the thing that might be what makes me love NdSP so much -- the completely different type of bitterness and warmth that comes from tagetes (marigold). Ivoire is one my husband asks me about, in his hesitant and deeply respectful way, because he doesn't much care for perfume that smells like PERFUME, if you know what I mean, and he came close to asking me to scrub it off. It certainly projects the most of any green I've tried yet. I may try it again in extremely small amounts and see what he thinks as well as what I think.

    Ultimately, I guess that just being a green chypre doesn't guarantee I'll like it. They are remarkably similar in many ways, and I expect they smell mostly the same to people who aren't interested in perfume.

    05th June, 2011

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    Paloma Picasso / Mon Parfum by Paloma Picasso

    I am very, very new to this; I don't know many frags yet and don't have a good basis for comparison. But I got a mini of this after hearing about it in several threads about green chypres. My current favorite is Niki de Saint Phalle, which is variously described as a green chypre oriental leather, has made me want to try other things with those descriptors to figure out how all those scent ideas work.

    So far, of the 40 scents I've seriously tried, Paloma and Ivoire de Balmain are indeed very closely related to NdSP. All go through similar stages on my skin: green opening with various strong players popping up and stepping back, not all of which I recognize, but all of which are interesting to me; early drydown (after 15-30-45 minutes) I start smelling the "oriental" wave, which I gather are the spices and perhaps the beginnings of the woods; then the long-term drydown -- after an hour and as long as it goes, which varies -- the part I love most. Wisps of the opening greens, smoke-rings of the decadent spices, and the base. Oh the base. I am still buying samples and reading largely because I want to understand that base. Is it the much-mourned, now nearly banned oakmoss? Is it an interplay of oakmoss and other tenacious basenotes as mixed by master noses? It's the drydowns that are most related to alchemy for me.

    Paloma is close to NdSP, not in detail but in overall shape. But its drydown is not as enchanting to me. I like it -- I smile when I catch a whiff -- but it doesn't make me excited to smell more, and talk about it, and get to the bottom of WHAT IS THAT INCREDIBLE SMELL?! as I do with NdSP (every time).

    Ivoire de Balmain is a little different, a little sharper, a little more assertive. I do like it, but it lacks some of the roundedness and balance that I think both NdSP and Paloma have. It keeps a slightly irritating, maybe attention-grabbing, character throughout. Ultimately, though, its drydown is disappointing to me, staying with the nose-clawing sharp greens and soapiness, never letting in the spices and -- the thing that might be what makes me love NdSP so much -- the completely different type of bitterness and warmth that comes from tagetes (marigold). Ivoire is one my husband asks me about, in his hesitant and deeply respectful way, because he doesn't much care for perfume that smells like PERFUME, if you know what I mean, and he came close to asking me to scrub it off. It certainly projects the most of any green I've tried yet. I may try it again in extremely small amounts and see what he thinks as well as what I think.

    Ultimately, I guess that just being a green chypre doesn't guarantee I'll like it. They are remarkably similar in many ways, and I expect they smell mostly the same to people who aren't interested in perfume.

    05th June, 2011

    rating


    Paperback by Demeter Fragrance Library

    I am a lifelong book-huffer (and reader, but maybe that's beside the point). I grew up in libraries. My dad was a university librarian. I spent as much time in the public library as I could, and much to my father's confusion, I love buying books, too. My first job was in a library. Now I work in publishing. I have probably spent something like 95% of my life within sniffing distance of bookshelves. I love the many smells of books.

    Demeter Paperback doesn't even vaguely remind me of books. Not old books, not new books, at all. It's not unpleasant, but it doesn't smell of paper and dust, or of the places where books live, or of any of the many kinds of bindery glue, or even of old leather (though of course paperbacks don't smell of leather either). It doesn't smell of stale cigarette smoke and cat pee like certain used bookstores. It doesn't smell of industrial floor polish and stamp pad ink like a college library, or of kids' winter coats and old carpet and homeless job-seekers like a public library.

    It does smell a little sweet, and quite a lot like Demeter's Dirt, which I think I prefer. I agree with themeglet that it's like old pipe tobacco, though maybe not one of the sugary cherry blends.

    13th May, 2011

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    Dandelion by Demeter Fragrance Library

    Does not smell like a real dandelion at any point, though it vaguely reminds me of one in the first few seconds after application.Real dandelions are not only floral but also bitter, which this definitely is not. It does evolve slightly over time; after an hour or so, it reminds me a little of Bellodgia's drydown. At all times it's light and sweet and a little bit creamy, and cheerful. I find it pleasant and can't imagine anyone finding it offensive. Nice for late spring when there are so many real flowers in real life to smell that you wouldn't want anything to compete and fall short and smell hopelessly fake in comparison, but still want something springy on your wrist. I think it would make a good gift scent for a young girl . . . so long as she doesn't want to smell like actual dandelions.

    13th May, 2011

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    Sandalwood by Demeter Fragrance Library

    Smells exactly like actual sandalwood -- which is saying a lot, since I think it's probably mostly synthetic, given what real, good quality sandalwood oil goes for these days. It smells exactly like the two objects I own that I know are really made of sandalwood, a fan and some old Indian beads. Not sweet, not over-complicated. Exactly right.

    I've smelled a lot of sandalwood perfumes, as I've been looking for The Right One for my husband for more than a decade. I've tried cheap headshop oils, no-name Egyptian attars, mass-produced brands, and very expensive tiny samples from exclusive European niche houses. Some of those were very nice, but my husband's particular and wanted what he wanted, which we couldn't get any more. This is the next closest thing I've ever found.

    Did you know that real Indian sandalwood (Santalum album) has been massively overharvested and the oil is very, very hard to get nowadays? Did you know that if you find the real thing for sale in the US, there's a good chance it was poached? I don't know how much, if any, real sandalwood is in Demeter's stuff, but like I said above, given the price, probably not much. Which is GOOD. Especially given that it smells so nice. Demeter's chemists have nailed it, and will probably be able to keep producing this lovely stuff no matter what happens to the world sandalwood supply, so my husband will be able to smell like he wants to for years to come. Yay!

    12th May, 2011

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Loving perfume on the Internet since 2000