Fragrance Reviews by soirdelune

This is a sweet curiosity. I have grown wary of gardenia fragrances lately: though I've never had the pleasure of smelling this tropical flower 'for real', I am conscious of constant assertions that no perfume ever reproduced its scent with veracity. So, I do not review this EdT in terms of its faithful replication of the gardenia flower's aroma.

What I experience with Penhaligon's interpretation is at first a limpid, watery 'gardenia' scent, boosted liberally with tuberose. Its topnotes are melony, cucumbery, fresh. Its middle is mainly a sprightly melange of magnolia and jasmine, fleshed-out and rendered more sensual with ylang-ylang. Projection is good; I am enjoying wearing this in small, steadily re-applied dabs, rather than braving a full-on spritz.

[B]Extract of Limes[/B] is just sensational. How did such a fabulous cologne get pulled in the first place? It's topnotes are so vivid, so green, so true, so ... lime-y! It's as though I just stuck my nose into a jar of Rose's Lime Marmalade, but without the sticky sweetness. This intial, bracing blast of citrus sticks around for a respectable while, yielding to a soft, musky, soapy, gently white floral base.

This is an uncomplicated, unisex, great quality cologne, which would profit from refrigeration for an extra-uplifting experience.

Night Scented Stock is both clever and beautiful. It's a mysterious, unusual floral, with great progression and depth. It starts (especially on the touche) as something light and translucent, then quickly evolves and 'blooms', opening up to become something deeper, bolder and more tenacious. I find the evolution of this scent to be one of its most enjoyable aspects.

As one who rarely favours florals (especially soliflores), I find this delightful, and very definitely feminine. On me, it is purply, somewhat peppery, with pronounced ylang ylang and violet notes, the creaminess of tonka and musk, and the very softest patchouli at its base. It's very fine. What's more, it has really good sillage and longevity.

NSS was first created in 1976, and it shares the pungency of some of the scents from that decade. What's refreshing is how 'new' and 'modern' it actually smells. Immediately prior to trying it, I'd been sampling yet another department store, fruity-floral confection, which was positively drippy and insipid by comparison. NSS really does have more edge and personality.

A serious, grand white floral. Handsome, with considerable gravity. It's jasmine-heavy on me, with the interesting juxtaposition of a soft, citrus backdrop rubbing against tart pepper. Evolves steadily and impressively, through a slowly softening floral spectrum. Has the slightest whiff of pencil shavings at its base. Smells costly. It *is* costly.

La Nuit is truly first rate, and I am staggered as to why this was discontinued. I find Paco Rabanne's current offerings 'unremarkable' at best, but this juice is wonderful, and smells of quality, if in a very monied '80s way. It is generally categorised as a leather, but on me it is more of a syrupy, sumptuous chypre, with the honeyed woods and oakmoss especially prominent. It's certainly forthright, and could be unisex to my mind, and is an audacious, Dynasty-era reworking of something far more stately and classic. It's a fabulous, glamorous scent with tremendous staying power and evolution.

This review is based on my vintage [B]Miss Balmain[/B] extrait, of which I wore a small drop today. This is a just-up-my-street kind of chypre, and so confidently and skilfully complex that it is a real joy trying to pick apart its notes. All hail the great Germaine Cellier!

Couldn't quite recall why I hardly ever wear this scent ... But then, just a half-hour later, I remembered -- IT HAD GONE! Escaped from my skin in moments like an elegant, but blase, woman, who dazzles briefly with her presence, then turns her back, leaving only a mocking, scented trace.

Such scented encounters can often be alluring, but this almost enraged me, and left me feeling slightly disdainful! Miss Balmain is all top, with a bit of middle, but has no bottom!

Is there a single Piguet scent that I don't find utterly amazing? They're all so excitingly varied, and yet I'd wear each and every one, in a heartbeat. Baghari, for me, is a grandiose aldehyde, extravagantly flaunting that 'icing sugar' note so pronounced in this genre. At its heart is a riot of full-bodied flowers, at its base a haughty, resplendent musk. As with all Piguets, it cocks a ballsy snook at insipid 'feminines', introducing a characterful pungent accord (bitter almond?). Self-possessed, strong, but, resolutely, [I]never[/I] vulgar, Baghari is a curious, 'anti-feminine' feminine, that presents sweetness, light and flowers with citric acidity, powder and spice. As is so often lamented on these boards, they don't make 'em like this any more ...

I'm a bit nonplussed, really. This is a Guerlain? It just doesn't seem to pack a 'typical' Guerlain punch. It starts out promisingly, with a pungent spurt of citrus, but this falls flat within seconds, then recedes into floral gentility. It is the middle that registers most positively with me: an impeccably orchestrated rose, lilac and jasmine blend, though this again subsides rapidly, to a nigh-on indiscernible base. No [I]guerlinade[/I], as far as I can register. This scent is not without charm and is, naturally, high on taste, but it races towards the finish line, silent, unmoved and without deigning to break into a sweat -- like a beautiful woman who doesn't much like having sex.

For an unrepentantly woody scent, Tam Dao is charmingly translucent, in a manner that is identifiably 'Diptyque': graceful, tasteful and measured. For me, it is the cedar note that peeks out most noticeably from behind the dusty sandalwood, with a sprinkling of black pepper and, at base, the vaguest incensey whiff. I find this a comforting scent with strong evocations of childhood; in fact, what Tam Dao reminds me of most forcibly is the mingled scent of rosin, wood and varnish that used to emerge from my tiny, child-sized violin case.

Today, I am having a life-affirming experience, one so happy and complete that I feel I have been re-acquainted with a lost part of my soul. I am wearing Tabac Blond for the very first time. It is so perfect for me that I am emotional, could truly cry. I've always known just from the reviews that this would be my kind of perfume: on the dark side, unconventional, idiosyncratic, gender-bending. It's also beautiful in the extreme: golden tobacco warmth, liquory leather, clovey carnation, balsamic, the prettiest, most ladylike, of patchouli bases. So denigrated in its current fomulation by Luca Turin, I can only wonder with reverent awe how its antecedent must have smelled.

Am in [B]Sous Le Vent[/B], and I love, love, love it. A gorgeous citrus-green, at first very much in the manner of a funky O de Lancome, with oodles of grass, moss and verdure -- all the things I love to roll in! I tend to struggle with older Guerlains, but this is an utterly effortless wear. I'd even go so far as to say that it appears to lack the requisite [I]guerlinade[/I] -- there's not a trace of vanilla, as far as I can establish, and I thank heaven for this small mercy. My only grumble -- and, sadly, it's a serious one -- is that longevity is short, which I find unusual for a Guerlain. It disappeared on me in an hour or so.

Ivoire is the very sort of scent I like to be smothered in: a full-on green without sharpness or astringency, floral accords with no sickliness or vapidity -- in fact, this is elegantly fullbodied and rich as a fine silk satin. Yes, it is soapy, but it's a sort of moviestar ivory soap scent, or something you'd associate with 1950s Lux or Camay. To me, this is precisely the sort of scent that curmudgeons would describe as 'dated', but in these times of so very many 'try-hard' fragrances, there is something unapologetically beyond fashion about Ivoire. It doesn't [I]need[/I] to try; it's chic and lovely -- and it knows it. It has been some twenty years since I last smelt this pefume, and going back to it now has been a reassuring pleasure. Got an old bottle? Dig it out and have a good, long sniff. Want to buy it new? It's incredibly affordable.

A heart-breakingly lovely iris, perhaps the gentlest of them all, with an almost imperceptible dab of leather -- think Kelly Caleche proportions, diminished by 50. Utterly delicate, restrained and elegant. Criminally short-lived. The epitome of chic, taste and classic 'femininity'. Very beautiful indeed.

Bel Respiro is quite enchanting; at once soft and sprightly, and sufficiently green to be not too floral (for me). As an afficionado of No.19, Bel Respiro is an excellent complement. It is also superbly blended -- I don't know how Chanel maintains this quality (generally) across the Les Exclusifs line. Only concern is that, just 30 minutes post-application, it is losing strength at a galloping speed. Deliciously lovely, though.

Chanel's Gardénia has to be the most 'creative' scent approximation of this flower, given that it bears no resemblance to it, whatsoever. In the main, this reminds me of a dilute of Poison, which quickly softens to take on a slightly cardboardy accord. It is very linear, remaining constant for the first two-thirds of its (very short) life, before settling into a sweet, unremarkable, flowery base. I regret to say that I am pretty underwhelmed by this scent, though this perhaps says more about the overall high quality of the Les Exclusifs line, of which Gardénia (to my mind) is probably the least successful. I am chastened, and somewhat surprised, to see that this is a Beaux creation, as I rate his perfumery skills extremely highly.

A little beauty, a treasure, a darling. A self-possessed floral with a soft hint of spice. Opening with a sharp-to-soft welcome of jasmine and orange flower, opening up to a warm, but ultimately sheer, golden bath of neroli and ylang-ylang. A strongly held middle yields eventually to a pretty violetty, powdery base. Resolutely of its era, but giving force to the notion that 'what is old is now new'. I found this a satisfyingly 'vintage' scent, while also somehow surprisingly modern.

I had a rather extraordinary encounter with this perfume recently. Encouraged to try some 'older' scents (which is a bit of a joke, for someone who wears no. 5 as a staple), I sniffed this one out at my local department store. It was quite an olfactory experience, and one that is rarely encountered with today's rather bland scents.

The top notes hit me like an almighty smack in the face: green, green, green, but humid and jungly like rotting vegetation beneath a shaded tree canopy. Startling, though not altogether revolting. Top notes lingered for a good half hour.

The middle notes were the most interesting, and pleasing part of the fragrance: again, a very vegetal smell, and one that, for a long time, I could not easily place. And then it struck me: cooked quinoa -- yes, that very particular smell of hot, cooked quinoa. Quite comforting, but unusual!

Remarkably, the drydown lingered just a short while, although not before my partner had come home and said (somewhat non-committally), 'Oh, you smell nice.'

An intriguing scent, but -- for me -- one that peaks far too soon.

Well, I am interested to see that nearly all the reviews for AdP Colonia here are by gentlemen, as my lady wears this scent and she smells quite magnificent in it. Yes, with her, you certainly get that triumphant initial citrus blast, but this then settles into something quite dense, dark and herbaceous -- masculine, but fetching on a lady, nonetheless. Am also interested to read about the 'hyping' of this brand: I must say that she elected to buy this scent after having sniffed a large number of other colognes. Had it not been for her impatience, I would probably have bought her a bottle of the Chanel Exclusifs Cologne, which is sublime. AdP is an excellent substitute, nonetheless.

My signature daytime scent ... narcissist, moi? A scent with a whole heap of glamour and gumption: audacious, elegant, complex -- not unlike its wearer! No, seriously, as a fair-skinned blonde, this is one of the few heavyweight scents I can truly pull off. It strikes just the right balance between the restrained sexiness of its rich rose and jasmine floral tones and the more sensual pepper, nutmeg and honey-musk notes beneath. Stupendously long lasting, reflected in its high price. I can also testify to its aphrodisiac powers: for ladies and lovers and lovers who love ladies!