This is Coco's little cousin to me. The family resemblance is striking. I've enjoyed it so much; it's been a chance to re-visit a perfume I wore so much in the late 80s without actually wearing a perfume I wore so much in the late 80s. The time is now, and Ellie Saab has managed to create a modern, heady concoction. It's got some character, but it's not wearing shoulder pads.
This reminds me of the (now discontinued, little-known) scent Trussardi Action for Women. It has taken florals in the same kind of somewhat sterilised, yet sweet direction with heavy emphasis on the green/powdery/violet accord.
I would like to note that I smelled this on a friend at the same time as I made the purchase and what was striking is how incredibly different our wrists smelled just after a couple of minutes. The perfume was rather green on her; almost unpleasant.
It goes sweet, soft, powdery and feminine on my skin. The best comparison besides Trussardi Action would be Fracas without the sex. It feels somewhere between a young girl's first romantic date and a mumsy, comfortably feminine floral.
The tuberose/gardenia accord smells almost entirely artificial (and they've certainly used some ionones on top of violet leaf, if any, in the scent).
I find the end result very pleasant and wearable. Thumbs up!
Once upon a time this was a powerful, ambery floriental with a great hit of incense and tuberose in the grand 80s style. Today it seems to have been thinned out to be a soapy shadow of its former glory. I've given it 4 stars for nostalgia, but at present it's really only a 3-star fragrance.
On the plus side, you can still get a hint of what it used to be like from the current juice and it's very cheap to get hold of.
Tuberose is a love or hate scent for me. This one gets the thumbs down because it smells cheap, cloying and unrefined. This perfume is a crime against tuberose.
The fruity note in the beginning creates an impression of wet tobacco, which quickly gives away to full-on, dry birch tar.
Interesting, very dry, quite overpowering, but could work for some.
For a less screeching version of this shampoo fragrance, try Lacoste for Her or D&G Light Blue.
If I smelled this on someone walking past I wouldn't consciously notice it as anything other than 'some generic after-shave'.
If you have a particular affection for Bond No9 as a brand, this is a pleasant scent from their collection. Otherwise, you can find more interesting fragrances for a lot less money.
This is one of the better scents from Bond No9. If you like it and can afford it without going over budget, why not?
To my nose it's a somewhat thin, powdery gourmand/oriental with a nice, comforting warm aura. It reminds me of the kinds of scents you'd find in a luxury body cream.
Really synthetic-smelling mimosa. Not unpleasant, but... really? Do people really pay for this? Try Mimosa pour Moi from L'Artisan or Summer by Kenzo.
I was pleasantly surprised by this offering from Bond No9 - I find the whole range seems to focus more on packaging and brand positioning and the juice is always okay, but boring.
This one actually gets the thumbs up from me because the fragrance does something clever. There's an old-fashioned, almost original formula Miss Dior hiding inside the thinned-out Angel. Fun!
The official list of notes offends me because it has almost no bearing on the actual fragrance. This happens all the time, but especially so with NYC. There's definitely a strawberry note. Hoo boy, yes! It's strawberry Ribena-alcopop-chewing gum that would be at home in a shower gel, lip gloss flavour or possibly shampoo. Osmanthus? Any of the other stuff? Not so much.
It'll no doubt be a summer best-seller. It's shockingly thin and shockingly potent at the same time. It makes Ralph by Ralph Lauren seem sophisticated and Tommy Girl seem like an 'old lady fragrance'.
Don't get me wrong - it's a 'nice smell'. I guess I'm having a hard time adjusting to the changing smell landscape of modern perfumes; that scents usually reserved for flavours and product perfumes should be bottled and sold as fine fragrance. But - they sell; people wear them - so why not?
I will probably wear this every now and then throughout the summer, though only when I want to smell like I've just popped the GIANTEST EVAH bubblegum bubble, OMIGOD, LOLZ.
If I hadn't received my free mini bottle of this from a very reputable store as a gift with purchase, I would have definitely assumed that I'd been given some sort of display bottle filled with the results of a chemical accident in the compounding department.
Burning, acrid, chemical notes, after which it falls apart to unappealingly medicinal-woody-spicy-musty. The only one from this house that I have had to scrub off and get out of my home.
This is mighty sweet and on the verge of being too sickly at first, but I do adore how the tuberose is treated. Cedar is very much a side-kick in this composition and I do find the naming of this scent somewhat bizarre. If you don't go in expecting cedar and just approach the scent as a sweet, oriental floral, you're likely to be able to appreciate it for its beauty.
It has a lovely, creamy, fruity-boozy sillage that makes me think of the interval at the opera; well-dressed people sipping alcohol and eating pastries.
This is old-style perfume-y in a soft and feminine way; powdery, aldehydic, musky, dry, slightly spicy and modestly floral. Scents with a similar feel to them are Mitsouko, L'Aimant and Farouche. It has echoes of Chanel No5, but it's much less of a bouquet and more of a powdery musk. It's not a knock-your-socks-off scent like hard-hitting florals, sparkly citrus or stonking orientals, but it's definitely got its place in the perfume wardrobe just like that cosy, feminine jumper has in yours. Surprisingly seductive.
10th December, 2009 (last edited: 14th December, 2009)
The original is sweet, but at least it has character. This one has the personality of deodorant/body spray juice heavily diluted in solvents. I don't understand how anyone could take a deep sniff of this and think it's stunning. I suppose one could find it pleasant. And perhaps that's enough.
Instant adoration. Out of my prize range. I fear this is aimed at a target market that doesn't include me, but its charms may be lost on some people who may mostly be seduced by the very exclusivity that the price point creates (that, or the showy bottle).
Alas, this is a heartbreakingly beautiful floral with sweet fruity, citrus and chypre tones. Feels grown up, perfume-y (in a good way); little skanky. It seems to last well, even in hot weather.
My mother's signature scent wasn't so much any one particular perfume (she worked her way through several) - but more of a theme "perfume and cigarettes". She smoked 40 a day. Probably why she got cancer in the end. To me, Jasmin & Cigarette is instantly evocative of "perfume and ashtray". It is a chilling reminder of the not-so-good memories. Another powerful example of the subjectivity of our perfume experiences.
Slightly odd, fairly pleasant, very nostalgic. A little bit of a sour/pencil shavings note in the beginning - that vanishes quickly - the rest is pleasantly reminiscent of 80s hair mousse. Drydown feels soft, musky, fruity and a tad metallic. Subtle with midling longevity. I quite like this, but it doesn't make your socks swivel.
Nivea creme in the blue tub mixed with Nivea sun cream after it's been on a skin for a while.
This scent is pleasantly old-fashioned, soft and floral.
Pleasantly surprised about by the lack of sweetness and by the dryness of this. It's ultra-refined, powdery, mossy and quite powerful, but in a good way. The florals teeter on the edge of stuffy, but stay just on the right side. For lovers of old-fashioned chypres, you can't do much better. As an aside: the two Montales I've tried so far seem to have something in common at the base; a signature that brings to mind the original Fendi. This, scent in particular would satisfy someone who mourns the loss of that powerhouse perfume.
Geraniol and mint hit; that's a short summary of this scent - with two meanings. Hit, because it punches your senses until you see stars, but also a "hit" because the way in which it does that is wonderful and worthy of praise. Geranium pour Monsieur is one of my favourites from this brand.
They have probably used geranium oil and extra geraniol, though it doesn't matter how they did it; whatever they did works perfectly. Geranium can be a misleading label I suppose because the Latin name for the plant used is Pelargonium (and in Finland we call them Pelargonia). The oil is produced by steam distillation from the leaves (and sometimes the stalks are included).
They're popular garden plants and I have some growing every summer. When you break off the leaves and crush them, a sharp, sour, medicinal, fresh, green, slightly citrussy scent emerges. The oil produced is high in geraniol and popular in rose blends because rose oil also contains geraniol - they blend well.
Geranium pour Monsieur achieves something very difficult. The use of mint as a supporting cast member, rather than as an out-of-tune choir singer. Though intended for men, this feels perfectly unisex and I recommend it as a great alternative to typical summer scent for lovers of green and fresh perfumes. Geraniol is a well known insect repellent, so if you're travelling to the tropics on your holiday, wear this!
One of the best amber scents I've smelled; manages to be easy on the senses without being boring, wearable without fading badly - and would provide a lovely unisex alternative to many of the much more expensive (and also more challenging) ambers out there. Complete thumbs up.
Spring Flower by Creed = £173. The Impulse Body spray it smells of = £1.89.
Sweet and perfume-y in a pleasant way, this vanilla has a definite floral-patchouli character. The drydown is remarkably similar to Pleasures Delights (and a number of other popular gourmands). Would make a nice comfort scent, or a lovely alternative to candy floss scents for someone new to perfume.
The first impression is "good eau de cologne". There is a lovely neroli-style opening and the scent feels floral and refreshing without feeling old-fashioned or blousy. On skin, milky, musky almond tones emerge, which can feel moorish or a little sickly, depending on how you perceive them. Pick the right day and the right weather and you'll want to spray lavishly. Very nice.
Notes according to TPC: Calabrian bergamot, Italian citron, Sicilian petitgrain, bitter almond, orange blossom, juniper berry, cold spices, cypress, cedar, white musk, caraway and galbanum.
Opens by a clean and sanitised rose-like accord , dips briefly into rose drawer liners, but redeems itself quickly by transforming into a juicy, mossy, bright floral. Smells entirely synthetic, but lovely with it. Longevity is good and the scent remains stable from about an hour onwards. It manages to stay fresh, which is a welcome surprise from this style of scent, which can often degenerate into candy floss or simple musk in the dry-down.
"A New Day Dawns" is described by Yves Rocher as a floral chypre and reminds me a little of NR For Her EDT. Where NR has missed the alarm, has messed up hair, yesterday's underwear (and a happy smile), Un Jour got up at 5 am, brushed, flossed and coiffed - and was out of the door with a fruit in hand before NR even fell out of bed.
No 22 is for you if you felt Chanel No 5 wasn't powdery or aldehydic enough.
Probably stunning on the right wearer, but on my skin, it has emphasised all the things that make me remember why I'm more of a Guerlain girl.
A little too... aldehydic (maybe?) in the beginning, but it quickly turns into a moorish, wearable warm, herbal-powdery-woody musk with a hint of spice. If this was produced by a niche house, it'd be lauded as a cult scent.
The longevity is good, the dry-down brings out a touch of sweetness, but this doesn't feel like a gourmand on my skin; it feels very subtle, attractive yet persistent. Not even slightly sickly. The musks cross into laundry-territory, but they're the fuzzy and warm kind. I'm impressed. Slightly puzzled as to why this hasn't become more popular, but perhaps the top notes are to blame. Either that or poor marketing. The good news is, you can now grab Noa for the price of a nice lunch, so get it while you can.
The packaging is lovely. The scent is underwhelming. A soapy orange blossom lazily falls apart into generic floral linen water. It doesn't last much longer than 30 minutes on skin, which is a blessing in this case.
My mental image of how this was created goes like this: "Hey guys, what can we release next so that the beauty editors will feature it in their summer issues? It has to be really aspirational, but really accessible. And you have 50p to spend on the juice." Then the marketing team rallied off to design the packaging and write press releases, whilst the perfumer channelled their desire to commit slow suicide into the juice, which seems to encapsulate sort of lethargic despair.
If you've ever opened a genuine Russian stacking doll and had a waft of the smell inside, you know what the first spray of this scent is like. Creamy, sweet, caramelised undertones quickly come into play and the perfume doesn't seem to evolve much from there. It is a pleasant, sweetened woody scent.