Fragrance Reviews by Zhara8

An amazing and unique comfort scent - flour, sweet white flowers, sandalwood, and...flour??!?

Not necessarily gourmand - for who would eat raw flour? This isn't even the floury smell of fresh baked bread - no, no yeast here at all. Nothing toasted - this is fresh milled raw flour. Sugar? look somewhere else. This is a bakery, not a candy shop.

Ah, but certainly a comfort scent - the fresh start of a recipe, the beginning of a quiet afternoon busily baking. The fragrance of being productive and creative. When other scents give you the final product of cookies or cakes, this gives you the prelude, the launch, the mis en plas.

So rare for L'artisan to put out a fragrance that is so casual and comforting - this is a delightful piece. So sad that the cost takes it out out of reach, else it would be a staple of my scent wardrobe.

The best of the cocoa-patchouli numbers out there. Angel is of course the most famous, but in my humble opinion, too sweet and reeking of that mass-market artificial smell that gives away the fact that the stuff is synthesized by the tanker-truckload. So too, B&BW's Chocolate Amber, which may or may not claim a patchouli note, but is clearly in the same "non-candy cocoa" category.

Neonatura Cocoon on the other hand, has the dusky cocoa mystery done just right. In fact, the mystery is minimal, and it even dares to be happy, and just a tad comforting. Dry, dark cocoa powder and oakmoss, softened with perhaps a bit of musk? The patchouli is of the best quality, traveling as a mature and well-mannered companion to the other notes, not the attention-seeking eccentric that it can sadly become in other frags.

Definitely appropriate for everday wear, non-offensive for the office, and unique enough to make people turn their heads inquisitively.

This could easily be a niche market fragrance, poured into a more interesting bottle and saddled with an outrageous pricetag. Il Profumo's overly complex Chocolats would have some serious competition if that happened. Instead, Cocoon cheerfully defies expectations for it's cost, and delivers a clever and unique treat for mere pennies.

hrm. At least Yves Rocher is in France. I guess we can forgive it for being affordable as long as it makes up for that sin by being French.

Alfred Sung Encore is a fragrance for a woman who plays hardball.
Encore is not playful.

Warm, yet not too friendly. Reserved, yet not meek. Strong, yet not dramatic. It is a daytime fragrance for a business executive who just happens to be a woman.

While the flowers are calmly present from opening to drydown, a stern, burnished wood and ever-so-faintly spicy note take over in the middle, and drive this number far away from any dreams of romance.

For all the serious sandalwood, there is no mistaking this for a male or even a unisex scent; it's clearly a woman's wear item. The rose, tuberose and jasmine are present - they are simply contained. No flirting allowed - the flowers in Encore must sit down and behave themselves.

Encore is slightly dated, if only because such dry and serious oriental florals (designed for women competing in the business world) did not really exist until the 1970s. Encore entered the market almost 20 years after the first of these 'office fragrances', and clearly is a progressive refinement of Charlie, Albert Nippon, and some of the other, earlier scents climbing the corporate ladder and banging on the glass ceiling.

For myself, I prefer scents that jump for attention a bit more than Encore. For all it's even-handed blending and moderately-high quality of ingredients, it does remain just a tad quiet, buttoned up and dry. Still, one of the best of this category.

Onyx is so well named, and as Ms. Machado is first and foremost a jeweler, an understandable occurrence. This fragrance, like the stone, is an under-appreciated delight.

For all the discussion of the coconut, Onyx is primarily a dark, opaque, tobacco scent, and one that stays rich and stately, avoiding the unfortunate sour turn of iPF's Tobacco, and miles away from the harsh, over-done pseudo-complexity of Aramis Havana.

This tobacco is softened, surrounded in cottony down by a lady with gentle fingers, and then carefully placed into a packing crate padded with shredded coconut husk. This isn't suntan lotion coconut, and it's not the sweet flakes from a macaroon. It's the coir, the husks, the earthier essence of coconut, and it compliments, not overpowers. The vanilla also avoids any foodie associations, letting the oakmoss and musk show it how to live a meaningful, productive adult life away from the bakery and teeny-bopper toiletries.

I'm giving away no secrets to say that this absolutely one of my favorite frags ever, and that House Machado is at the top of my list in general. With that said - Onyx stands out as a misunderstood scent - years of mass-market foodie frags have tainted it with stereotyped expectations. Let go of those expectations and let yourself indulge.

I keep a tightly sealed dark blue glass jar with a chunk of pure unadulterated amber from a chemists' supply. On moments when I need a smile, I reach for that jar and get a whiff of the Real Deal. Of all the other amber frags out there, only Sage Machado captures so perfectly that single exquisite note. And unlike a lump in a jar - I can actually *wear* Sage Machado Amber.

Yes, there are supporting notes - gentle traces of blonde wood and faint hints of orange rind, but Ms. Machado has so perfectly subdued them, letting the star ingredient do what it does best: shine. glow. burnish.


I meant to elaborate further, but what else can be said? Simply one of the best ambers ever.

There's been a hesitation for me to write about this amazing chameleon - as others have posted here, there's something about Misouko that can not easily be defined.

Peaches? Oakmoss? Those are both reportedly in Calvin Klein Obsession, and that frag has always made me smile - but I couldn't even begin to guess that they appear in Mitsuoko. Certainly there's no hint of the cashmere envelope of amber that enriches Obession. And yet there is no mistake - Mitsouko is rich. Heavy. Weighty.

If pressed, I'd say that on me, this is almond toasts - the most expensive ones you can possibly import, and herbal distillations rendered by a turn-of-the-century pharmacist ... and a base of ... oh my, I just can't say.

Leather? perhaps - and sueded leather at that. But only perhaps. Gueralinade? Not the guerlainade that has become familiar to me in the drydown of Shalimar, Spiritulese Double Vanille, and Samsara. However, there is some rich base here in the drydown.

Too many memories are being conjured up by this frag, I suppose. I never knew the name of it at the time, but I'm certain now that this is what aroma surrounded my grandfather's second wife - a brash, energetic woman who wore colorful clothes, big hair, and bright red nail polish - much to the horror of the rest of my family, all fading into obscurity in their tasteful beige and navy and unobtrusive toiletries. Ah, but Emily (she insisted that she was too young to be called "grandma" and she was right) - Emily always stood out. Sometimes jarring, quite synthetic, but in the end, affable, outgoing and unapologetic.

Hrm... I think I just found the right descriptors for Mitsouko.

At least for today it is. I'll wear it again next week, and undoubtedly my mind will change again.

Musk, Amber AND Civet all in one? How naughty! Well, not really - the Bergamont is a strong scrubbing presence throughout this racy number, and the whole mix has a unisex appeal and a refreshing summer and spring zing that makes it right for multiple locations, even in the office (use a light touch). Wrist-sniffing addiction is a certainty; I can close my eyes and channel a tuxedo-clad Marlene Dietrich in this one.

As with other concoctions by the famed Nose, this Laura Tonatto fragrance has a wonderful rounded softness in the background that speaks of cashmere and trust funds. Even if the civet is synthetic, it and the vanilla do a good job at presenting themselves most naturally. This soft, barely-there vanilla joins the rich comforting amber for a quiet, ethereal background that makes Oropuro a true cut above. Just lovely, redolent with old-time glamour, and disarmingly racy.

Jordan Almonds, marshmallows, very very fresh play doh, and a general light, happy aroma - maybe just the faintest trace of orange spice cookies? Now THIS is what Child should have smelled like. Certainly pulls the best bits from my childhood memories. very nice, although wears close to the skin. Worst of all, this sweet, gentle fragrance disappears rather quickly. Ha! Just like the few and fleeting moments of childhood happiness.

What a beautiful bottle, and even the box I received was frilly and fantastic, although I noticed that other versions of it are coming out in less fancy packaging.

However, we're here to talk about the juice inside, and it's taken me a while to put this one together. At first try, I detected no spice, and it came across as a nice melon/fruit floral, with only a very slight hint of annoying aquatic notes taking it into the spa/salon/toiletries realm. The candy note quite pleasant, not overpowering, and not so strong as to make it too girly. My conclusion upon first sampling was that it was a "rich teen" fragrance, smelling richer than it's price tag, but indeed a young fragrance.

Something, however, haunted me. There's a note there that reached for a memory. I couldn't place it, but somehow I *knew* it. After quite a bit of searching, and waiting and sampling With Love again on a different day, it finally hit me:

In the early 1990's, there was popular suntan oil, that despite it's brown plastic bottle and cute palm tree logo, had no noticeable coconut. No coconut at all, and instead was all exotic fruit aromas. The internet thankfully yielded the name in no time: Hawaii Blend Tropical Blend SPF 15.

And THAT is exactly what Hillary Duff With Love heart notes are. A clone of this suntan oil. Must be the mangosteen. Not a bad thing, actually. But definitely curious.

A dark fruit. A fruit that makes a lascivious sound when you bite into it. Very green, sweet, yet grounded. The patchouli, ginger and spice definitely steer this scent out of fluffy territory - no spun sugar cotton candy here. Instead, the sugar is a dark, sticky syrup; almost a venom.

The synthetic notes are not bashful, but they oddly enough give a lushness, a poshness. Indeed this is a large designer fragrance, and no niche-market bohemian. But as far as mass-market designer fragrances go, this is quite a winner. Complex, grown up, and deep with fruit and leaf and that ever-present dangerous syrup. Overall, a very pleasant surprise.

Hillary Duff With Love is at home on the shelf next to a bottle of Armani Idole - both have taken the current trend of sweet fruity frag.s and given them a diploma and a stock portfolio.

Vetiver, tea, musk, very unisex, a bit of spring, but not especially original. Nothing sexy about it - which is surprising given the musk note - then again, it is a very synthetic musk. other fragrances might be peeking in and out here and there.... bluebell??? who could tell over the big domineering tea/musk/generic citrus aromas? cardamom is an absolute fav of mine, but undetectable here. Pink pepper? I know that's the hawt little ingredient for 2008, but where is it in this mix?

Could be a high end Burberry scent, could be the fragrance added to a man's deoderant stick, could be gym locker deodorant for a high-end raquet club. overall, this one gets a "meh".

The Hardy Boys hid in the old warehouse for what seemed like hours, waiting for the mysterious man from the insurance company to come back. "Maybe he won't come back at all." Frank said, shuffling his feet on the bottom of the crate. His shoes kicked up fragments of the wood; it was rough-hewn and easily released bits of fragrant sawdust. The crate also smelled of the spices it had contained at one time. It reminded Frank that it had been hours and hours since they had last eaten. "Maybe we should just go home and try again tomorrow."

"We have to stay just a little longer." Said Joe. "We have to find out why he was digging out behind the luggage boutique last week, and if it has any connection Sally's disappearance."

Joe had to admit that things had become rather uncomfortable. Huddled together inside the rough wooden shipping crates, the boys were getting tired, bored, and hungry. They dug through their pockets looking for something to tide them over. Joe had some hard candy, and Frank had a big orange he had saved from lunch.

"This will have to do for dinner." Said Joe, solemnly, and pulled up the collar of his borrowed jacket, which still faintly smelled of his father's favorite soap. "I wish Dad was here." he thought, but only to himself. He did not want to let his brother know that he was scared.

They ate the orange and the candy slowly, silently, as if even the sounds of their chewing would somehow give their location away, hidden as they were in the pile of old spice crates. Together, they waited. Darkness fell.

After much anticipation, (spicy carnation? fruits of Italy? sounded so promising!) I find this stuff to be utterly......... ho hum.

Very Dept. Store, very ordinary, a faintly pleasant floral/orchard note in the drydown, and a faint, distant reminiscence of Albert Nippon, which I used to like. Also a faint, distant reference to Fendi's original scent, which I detested. Tuscany per Donna is quite loud and lasting, so at least one gets one's moneys worth, I suppose. Although it's a '92 launch, it makes me think of the big hair 80's in a totally major way, a decade I adored, and yet this represents like the totally most bogus part of the eighties, like just too Nancy Reagan, like I am so sure, y'know.

Very, very glad I got the little bitty tester vial instead of a bottle.

With the reverence that I hold for the most esteemed fine old house of Patou, it pains me to say that this one is a bomb. No, not "da bomb", as it's youth-market appeal would have you believe, but instead just a stinky, useless, rotten bomb.

I never thought I'd say this about a fragrance, because I've always adored strong, dark, heavy and animalic scents, but here's proof that you never say never: This stuff smells dirty.

Don't know exactly what it is in the drydown, but it is not a pleasant, earthy, loamy garden-soil dirt smell. That I could love. It is not a hawt, fresh-sweaty, sexy aroma prompting one to do dirty things. That's the dirty of Shalimar and Obsession, and it's nowhere to be found in ENjoy. Nope, this just smells dirty, in the worst possible way. They drydown is not my friend - the drydown is the bottom of a used trash can.

The rest of fragrance, opening, mid-section - all nicely pleasant florals, bit of fruit, certainly of quality ingredients. There's no alcohol or synthetic notes, nothing that burns or requires some time to evaporate off. In short - it doesn't smell cheap. And why should it? This is Patou, and the tradition of using the best is apparent. For all I can tell, this repulsive, bitter note is the best quality repulsive bitter note I've ever sampled. What is it? I can not say - all the notes listed - patchouli, musk, vanilla and amber, are normally much-beloved base notes for me. Is it simply personal chemistry? Perhaps, but sprayed on paper or onto clean cotton, that repulsive, bitter, dirty aroma is still there, without ever making contact with my skin.

Perhaps this brew will work well for others. If so, I've got 49.9 ml of the stuff ready to go. and by "go", I mean far, far away from me.

So sad, and I adored the grey-violet hue of the juice, too.

What happened? This was the closest thing to airconditioning that we had when I was a child - both my mother and I would envelope ourselves in a cloud of Love's fresh lemon before being around people in the summer (and where we lived, "summer" meant everything from March 01 till Nov. 30). It was fresh, true lemon aroma, from peel to the juice, and was simply a fantastic pick-me-up. It was impossible to overdo it - lemons - just lemons. Take a bath in lemonade - no harm, no offense.

Driven by nostalgia, I picked up a bottle of Loves Fresh Lemon this year, amazed to find it still in production, and nearly cheaper than air.

How unexpectedly awful to find it artificial, nasty and chemical. Has there been a reformulation? My nose can't have changed that much over the years.

So sad.

This is simply a delightful amber. I almost could stop right there.

But of course I wont. Hints of Floral and a touch of Fruit make just the perfect caress in the opening. Leather speaks up, giving it a unisex depth. Spices are artfully intertwined throughout, and lest we forget: amber, amber, amber.

This is rich, stately, yet also comforting and well rounded. Appropriate for ladies (not girls), and quite right for gents with "somewhere to go". Appropriate all winter, but not impossible all year. Appropriate in quite a range of situations. Appropriate to say that Ambre de Cabochard is Quite a masterpiece.


I don't find the overpowering vanilla mentioned by ComDiva, but I also don't detect that much similarity to V pour Homme as noticed by distortech. If pressed to describe, I'd say this is a dollop of Sage Machado Amber, a fair share of Cabochard, and just a touch of extra ginger, corriander and cardamom sprinkled in for good measure. Truly, we must all test individually - chemistry, chemistry, chemistry.

The pain is to find it! Is it too new to be widely available? Or is it discontinued and therefore a tragically lost treasure? I hope for the former, and fear for the latter.

Amber for everyday, amber for the office. Amber for polite situations. Amber for many ages, amber for daytime; amber when you don't want to overpower. A solid, all-around amber. A truly pleasant, enjoyable, and delightfully affordable amber. It is indeed, even with other accompanying notes that soften it up, still quite directly: amber.

Not a loud scent, not dramatic, not over-the-top, not heavy. Not nearly unisex, not even especially dark.

And that is why, regretfully, it receives only four out of five stars.

See, I **prefer** loud, heavy, dramatic, over-the-top, usually unisex and dark amber scents. but that's just me.

Truly, a great amber for the money. Don't let my slanted view deter you. You can't go wrong with this one.

Billie Holiday wore only a cluster of gardenias in her hair as trademark fragrance and ornament, and this certainly evokes that image. Lady Day by the sea?

Oh yes Kai has gardenia, very very powerful gardenia, but not a singleflora. Kai has noticeable jasmine, very present aquatic bits in the finish, and I'd swear that's late march privet blossom in there as well.

Quite lovely, tho very out of character for me as I'm not usually a floral fan. I'd still rate it second behind MPG's Jardin Blanc, but pretty much on par with Alfred Sung's original hit. All nice white flower scents, each with a different basenote. That aquatic note is the one thing keeping Kai from getting my highest possible raves and rating.

Great gardenia reproduction, and certainly the silage is monumental. A strong one, no doubt.

Fantastic simplicity underlies this heady, rich fragrance. Honey. Rose. And what a rose. This is the same rose of Rosa di Damasco, their original singleflora that is rose, rose, and just for interest, some rose thrown in on top.
While I'll continue to have Rosa di Damasco in my arsenal for as long as I can forage up the currency to haul it home (iPF's prices have skyrocketed; jumping 45% in the last 5 years.) , Miele Rosa has a certain extra "oomph". That ommph is not just "honey".

As a mead brewer, I've come to know dozens of different honeys - the color, viscosity and fragrance are affected not only by the specific variety of flowers over which our yellow-striped friends graze and gather pollen, but also the season of the year during which the honey is collected, age of hive, and so on. The honey note in Miele Rosa is good strong summer honey - dark, heavy and unflitered. The bees knees are here, along with chunks of honeycomb, wads of wax (where a large percentage of the fragrance is stored anyway), and even a bit of the aged wood frame of the hive.

Now, that describes each element. It doesn't describe the final effect of these combined essences. And I fear that I can not do so either, as long as Basenotes remains at least a PG-13 community. However, why let that stop me from trying?

A medieval castle, covered in a hundred year's worth of rose vines, late May, full bloom. The prince and princess have just been wed the day before, and upon entering their chamber the next morning, the aroma of roses - both the ones growing on the vines outside the open window, and thousands of petals that had completely carpeted the floor and covered the bed, make one of three overpowering olfactory factors. The second comes from hundreds of freshly made and mostly un-used rolled honeycomb candles, the raw wax sticky with residue of honey. The third aroma - one that is known to happy newlyweds everywhere, is a scent best left only alluded to and not completely described.

Sadly, like a blissful wedding night, Miele Rosa is not here forever - limited edition only.

A completely un-objectionable vanilla. Very very .... ok. Astonishingly.... unremarkable, except that in a sea of horrendous vanillas for every pocketbook (from L'Artisan's ugly and harsh Vanilia to the creepy synthetic of discount-store's Coty Vanilla Fields), at least there's nothing really wrong here (except the price).

It's vanilla. It lasts a while. It will not offend anyone. For the money, Kheil's could cover you better, should you be looking for a straightforward single-note vanilla scent.

or McCormicks.

It will be difficult to top jenson's delightful and spot-on description - tea leaves, lime rind, hot sun, leather... crushed and producing the finest droplets of elixir.

I am compelled though, to expand on one particular note: There is a sugar in the drydown - one that is quite stately, grown up and magnificent. It's a sugar that would make a little kid frown. This is no pixie stix, but a raw, wild sugar crystalized on rough frame screens set out in that same hot sun that dried jenson's aforementioned saddle. "hay sugar"? Turbinado? call it what you will, this is big kid stuff.

My husband and I had to get one bottle each - too great to share, sadly quite hard to find. The remarkable part here - he has normally worn only novelty gourmands till now; Demeter's Hot Fudge Brownie and Dulce de Leche, Luna's Wookie's Cookie and the like. What does this have to do with Chergui? Only that it's sugar can not go unmentioned, that sweet grounding note can not be under-emphasized. This scent, for all the leather, is just so very edible. A sparkling but deep-colored summer quencher that you simply could gulp down by the pitcher, yet you also want to savor each sip. A fragrance fit for hot weather, while never becoming frivolous. A heavy, rough sugar that says "adults only."

An absolute dream of a scent. One of the very best.

Rich sweet floral, no matter the claims of gourmand accords, the opening is all classic Patou.

However, in the process of drydown, towards the middle and finish - I swear it's the aroma of an ice cream parlor. Not just the fragrance of ice cream alone .... it's the fragrance of the whole entire parlor: fruit, marshmallow whip, sparkling clean floors, over-working a/c, everything is there.

Vanilla is here, oh yes, but so definitely an ice cream vanilla - it's chilly! how can Patou convey temperature? I can only guess.
And the fruit....these are not the ripe, heavy bananas flecked with brown from the top of your kitchen counter, nor are these the classy caramelized delicacies found in a Bananas Foster. Instead these are quite indeed the fresh, perhaps even slightly green, chilled, subdued, bananas of an ice cream split. Other fruits mix in, with the florals still shouting quite loudly, making the banana even less prominent. But they are there.

Between the heavy floral notes, the icy cold fruit, chilly vanilla, and the hints of mildest white musk anchoring things, a more appropriate name for this fragrance would be "First Date at the Ben & Jerry's". Which is actually a compliment. A great summer scent, very fun.

A favorite 20 years ago when I was much much younger. At the time, Obsession, Misha and Maxim's were my fall and winter scents - Sung and YSL Paris ruled over summer and Spring. As others on here have written, it now seems to fail for us more mature types.

I remember it having such a cooling effect on me, and the muget was almost all I noticed. I specifically thought of it as a "cold, pale purple" scent, despite it's crisp black and white packaging and nearly clear juice. Perhaps that was the orris?

"Ah yes, white flowers." my mother said approvingly. So, perhaps her words influenced my olfactory perceptions. In any case, I took a spritz again recently, after at least a decade without it, and found Sung now to be so artificial and loud, with only a vague ghost of the cooling, feminine joy that I remembered it providing.

Now, can someone tell me if I'm simply off my rocker, or does Sung have some noticeable similarity to MPG's Jardin Blanc? (with J.B. being the far more complex and more natural-smelling of the two)

So many times when I've opened my spice chest to cook, lifting the lid and getting a heady rush of the accumulated powders, seeds and dried herbs inside, I've said to myself "if only I could capture *this* exact scent."

Oriental Lumpur has done that exactly. Don't believe me? Come to my house, we'll go to the kitchen and you can have a whiff.

Curry is of course not one spice but a generic tag for all kinds of spice mixes from the Subcontinent - and Oriental Lumpur is it's own unique curry (or balti, actually. Yes, I'd say it's a nice, zesty balti).

Now here's the truly artful part: not one of those spices overpowers any of the others. Perfect balance. I've read repeated reviews of Kingdom that talk of nothing but the cumin, or complaints that Piment Brulant is nothing but a bell pepper. Definitely not the case here, the blend is the thing. Ginger, turmeric, coriander, cardamom, galangal, a hint of saffron and several others. In the middle there is the tiniest hint of clean soapy sweetness - just enough to bring back the perfect childhood memories of cooking lessons from my father - clean dish towels, fresh washed hands, and lots and lots of spices.

This is such a keeper - and I fear terribly that it will be discontinued for lack of sufficient market. Until then, I horde.