Fragrance Reviews by Hillaire

Very loud. Very overbearing. Very sexy.
Easily conjured by thought, boozy, heady, dark, and "knowing".

I actually think this might delight me more on the right man. But it delights me plenty on myself.
Whenever I wear it, I feel a tad self conscious,"Am I smelling up the room?"
But it's the fragrance I love most to discover lingering on a scarf or lapel, days later.

This is a very sexy, womanly Oriental. I am always searcching for the new perfume that is both modern and sophisticated enough to please my classic-loving nose.
Pink Room Pour Toi fills the bill. It also deserves props for being incredibly sexy and elegant enough to wear in proper company; only a handful of scents can claim this: Knowing, Jil Sander 4..
This scent has a bit of a loud opening, but the drydown is absolutely magnificent, and the sillage is the sort I suspect men notice and adore, womanly, tasteful, and sensual.
Better than original Pink Room.

Hey, do you like lemons??
Because if you do, you will love this scent!!
I really like it, lemon city though it is. If I could afford it, I would scent y clean house with it in the mornings. I think it would be ambient bliss...

Save yourself some money and purchase some cinnamon oil from you local supermarket. Mix in some industrial bathroom freshener. Voila!

I have a secret soft spot for unpretentious,brash, sexy things.

Mackie is one of these guilty pleasures, along with Cassini, Bijan, Black XS, and a few others.

It smells just like a low rent Jil Sander 4. Not that it is poor quality; it's actually quite well done. It has an innate beauty that captures attention. But it doesn't have good manners, act polished, reserved, or know which fork to use. It could be offensive in a proper setting. And that quality in an of itself is sexy. And the scent is very sexy as well.

It's a complex, heady, very sweet, dark Oriental fragrance, an though it boasts no vanilla, I smell vanilla. And I like it. Also very consistent from first blast through drydown.

It is also intensely female. Like black lace is female.

All in all, perhaps the best bang for your buck on the perfume market.

Tocade always reminds me of a child snacking on those thin, buttery, Swedish ginger wafers and a bottle of Fanta.

And that is quite a pleasant association for me.

In fact, it's myself, as a child I think, in a Belgian town square, under an a cafe umbrella. There's beautiful architecture and history all around, lending this snapshot some worth and elegance, but it's the tiny, crumbling, sensuous magic of the ginger cookies, melting on my tongue, the alternating cold wet wash of Fanta, the hot, effervescent grit of the sugar crystals, that is so magical to me.

Wonderful

I hope this fragrance gets some attention, frankly. Of the strongly vanillic, sweet, woody floral scents out there right now, I think this one is the most sophisticated, if not the most.

It has a great, mature presence, with a wonderful modern elegance, that is very very ladylike. The notes are very well balanced and really create a solid, recognizable scent. I would wear it to the opera, for a romantic evening and not during the day. It's really luscious. It's like a magenta moire gown, with a crystal choker, and white gloves.
I realize that Hanae Mori's Butterfly has no vanilla whatsoever and this one is a vanilla fragrance, but I consider them quite similar (like a nighttime version), in character, and very much in the drydown and longevity.

The bottle is so ridiculous, I think it killed the fragrance. Seriously. It has a sort of compartment on the side, which holds a cheap gold plastic blob. A tragic attempt at "contempo" by a stodgy and unhip firm. If it had been launched by Dior, it would be a runaway success. It's so much better than Addict or Jadore, for example.

If you are a fan of Juicy Couture, Butterfly, Black XS, etc., try this one, I bet you'll like it more!

This is a hard one for me to smell with a clean perspective.

Because I REMEMBER L'air du Temps, you see. I remember it's salty,caustic, peppery personality, when it was so strong, so clear, like Electra screaming her famous note, chilling the opera houses ... almost even physically painful, like hot spiced, perfumed cream being piped into my sinuses, making my eyes tear, evoking pagodas and promenades and enchanted gardens. Always in a heavy glass flagon with frosted CRYSTAL doves.

The doves are the perfect allegory, in fact, now fashioned of plastic, like a kitsch reminder. Slightly embarrassing...a cheap, brazen homage to something truly fine, now only mythical.

I am thinking, too, of that Elvis Costello song, "Veronica", about an elderly woman with Alzheimer's, who doesn't even remember her name, who happened to be a scintillating, powerful, and dynamic character in her youth... her only claims to her past a photo album and fleeting memories....Tragic.

So would I like if I smelled this current version as a new perfume for the very first time? If it was a niche offering? Yeah, I guess so. I'd be impressed by its unusualness... by the pepper and powder, its quirky sex appeal, the carnations morphing into salted carnations. But I need it to be packaged almost generically.
So, it gets a thumbs up....

I find myself thinking often, "how can something so great, so flawless and classic be discontinued?! I cannot bear it!" And I always mean it, but this time I mean it the most.

In my top three faves.

Jil Sander is:
Swank
Classic
Elegant
Alluring
Perfect
Haunting

I seem to be a sucker for plum an peach in the same chypre, and this one does it in a really dark-as-night manner.

I agree its closest relative is Knowing (also great), but I think it's the finer fragrance. Knowing is a stately tudor-revival mansion graced by an impeccable woman's respect for tradition. Jil Sander is the real, kept-up Tudor manor, inhabited by eccentric, stylish gentry.

Parure,
Oh, Parure…
Wherefore art thou Parure??

Parure, why did Guerlain let your grand old head roll (however outmoded , however decadent and unapologetic)??? And let that bourgeois beast Jardins de Bagatelle, run free, propagating banality and vacuity on behalf of Guerlain??!! The folly of over-correction?

What a marvelous, grand, Miss Havisham of a scent! Musty and hissing, complicated and barely still alive… yet so redolent with culture, it is painful…

Although, I experience the process of a chypre here, with a nice plumy lactone that jumps right out, I liken this more to the woddy masculines by Guerlain than to their numerous feminine chypres.
In fact, it is woody, piercing, and dry like Heritage, to me. What a great pair Parure and Heritage could have made… Alas….

I adore this fragrance.

A man who has just washed with fine soap, applied a heavily starched shirt and is liking melted butter from his fingers.

Divine

About fifteen years ago, a friend noticed my perfume collection.
She said, "Oh my God, do you know Shisedo Zen? It's the best smell on the planet."
I told her I did not, and thought nothing of it.
The next time she came over, she brought me a bottle to have, of this old stuff, and I was so impressed. And so grateful. One of the best gifts ever.
I have bought a few bottles since, and I still have, and treasure, the original gift.

This fragrance smells incredibly ahead of its time to me. Even though it's a bit powdery, it never strikes me as obviously vintage. In fact, if I smelled it for the first time today, I would think it was a really unique and heart-stopping new masterpiece. It smells like nothing else. It's lovely. And ladylike, very complex and sophisticated without being a grande dame in any way.

I save this one for the really special occasions. Something about it is so perfect, that I think of it as my eternal failsafe.

Where is the love for Chant d'Aromes?

In my opinion, one of the best Guerlains, alongside Vol de Nuit and L'Heure Bleue, and very under-appreciated.

For me this is the sweet baby daughter of Caron's Infini. Complete with its stupefyingly perfect, unobnoxious, lactonic-fruity chypre personality ( I emphasize this because I find many of the lactonic greats, though delicious, quite confrontational.), and a sour-rose, metallic drydown.

I fantasize about smelling its parfum concentration, since the EDT is so light, but I also find the faintness seductive; It is such a treasure to discover, having to sniff right up on the skin. Like a tiny glimpse of perfection, elusive and fleeting.

I find myself re-spraying a lot on days I wear this, but it's so fun to admire its development! From initial grapefruity bitter citrus, to a plummy lactone that is very rounded out, to its classic, modest finish, which vacillates from a antique, girly floral to a very sophisticated and modest chypre . I find it perfect from start to end.

Like the good Guerlains, it both sings it its purity with natural-seeming, clearly identifiable notes, and presents a totally distinct character as a whole composition.

Oddly, it has incredible sillage, and it is one of the the fragrances that pleasantly catches me by surprise, hours after I think it's gone, with a wonderful warm, elegant redolence wafting up from my skin

This is a long time favorite of mine because nothing on Earth smells at all like it.
I am very surprised there were only two reviews of Metal. I thought it was a classic. It certainly deserves to be.

As for the name, I don't find it especially metallic (Calandre is much more metallic, in fact.).
I would describe it as oily... greasy, even, but not as an aspersion.
Imagine, if you will: herb-infused oil, marinating a slice of raw beef, saturating butcher its paper... being opened by perfectly manicured, perfumed, graceful hands.

Sound good yet? Well, it is.

Metal is very sexy, and beefy, and green.

I think it would smell delicious on a man.

It's been a long time since I have worn Opium.... Sort of like opening up some Faulkner fifteen years after college....
Whoa.

That's some impressive, if heavy, juice.

It smells so vintage to me now, in a way that makes me both yearn for the years gone by, and excitedly welcome Opium into to its new status as an "timeless great".

It should be noted that the perfumer Jean Amic (of "Y" fame) worked on this scent as well.

The opening heady, lactonic blast is very reminiscent of Femme by Rochas.
The drydown is indelible.

Okay. Rather than compare it to Cuir de Russie, I will compare it to Donna Karan by Donna Karan, which it smells much more like.
In fact, it smells like a more refined, more classical version with a really good retro dry down. The suede disappears too quickly, but the lingering scent is nice, too. And it hangs around for a while.
I actually think I like it more than Bandit. It feels more wearable to me, and fulfills all the same perfume needs: dashing, sexy, retro, a little bit kinky... minus the sweet/sour ...plus a touch of elegant.
I am sure I will wear this one quite a bit.

When I was a little girl living in Switzerland, there were four nationalities of trains usually available:

German trains -slick, modern, metallic
Swiss trains - clean, wholesome, clean
Italian trains - rattletrap, uncomfortable, musty
French trains - luxurious, fragrant, velvety

I would pray for the French trains every time. They smelled of glorious French perfume. It was my childhood notion of sophisticated adulthood.

The smell of those trains was L'Heure Bleue.

I have recently gotten to know the Carons, and Infini is my favorite one.

I suspect the bottle I picked up is from the eighties, so it isn't the current formulation.

It starts out in true Caron form, with a lot of delicious, melt-in-your-mouth, heaviness, and dries down very quickly to an incredible and perfectly-balanced, faintly metallic, tangy wonder. With outstanding sillage.

It's one of the more "familiar" vintage fragrances I have recently added to my repertoire, and the associations from my past are of very chic French women with that air of immaculate taste.

It delivers.

Leather and Soap.
This smells a lot like (I do this thing)
Cabochard and Ivoire had a baby.

I really hate that it's gone, it's such a wearable
scent.

Did you ever have a lasting friendship with someone, with some really symbiotic times, and some distant phases ... and then one day you realized you were totally in love? With this truly wonderful person you so totally got? This has been Madame Rochas in my perfume life.

I have known it since childhood (My grandmother had all the greats.) but am only more recently aware of my peculiar attachment to this fragrance.

I have no issues with the current formula. It seems more plastic in the introduction phase, a little "soapier" in the start, but this is a soapy scent, and I love good soap. In fact, when I first spritz it, I am always thinking of the perfect bar of soap... perhaps a startling, memorable discovery, in the most stately, historic Italian hotel, of a luxuriant bar of impossibly unique soap in the lavatory.

The drydown is the real treasure, though. A really dizzying, luxurious and sensuous thing. It's amazingly evocative lingering on clothing, and its sillage is extremely enduring.

Oddly, I don't wear this out often. I think because I like to keep it almost a secret, or I am so enamored of it, I exalt it too much ... like a perfect vintage silk garment.

But when I do wear it, I get compliments every single time.

It is very ladylike, and I really feel the intentions of Guy Robert when I smell it. What a dashing yet luscious, willful yet poised, sexy and coy woman he had in mind!

I have thought a lot about whether or not I like this one...
Boy you can smell the jasmine, and it feels pretty simple all along, yet interesting.
There is an odd, old-fashioned, toothpaste quality to this, which I attribute to the marigold interacting with the jasmine and the santal.
What I like about this one is its weirdness, and that it still resembles a fleshed out fragrance, if only a little -- probably because of the oakmoss.
But, while Iike having it, and it amuses me, I never wear it. It's a novelty fragrance for me, fun and quirky as hell.
The bottles are the most amazing in the world. And everyone hones right in it, "What's THIS ONE?"
A conversation piece altogether.

I really, really have to insist upon this one being a unisex. Not unlike O de Lancome, but spicier and more wearable. Like O in a black cashmere sweater.

This is maybe my favorite scent for daytime, and I pine for it. If you can afford to buy one of the absurdly priced bottles left on the net, I strongly do recommend it.
I remember a several German ladies I know owing it in its heyday... (It was very popular in Germany, like all the Jil Sanders. I think it's discontinuation had something to do with oakmoss laws.) Anyway, I am strongly compelled to call those women up and see if they have any remnants I might buy!
It is that wonderful!

My grandmother gave a bottle of the parfum today. I was so excited, but I cannot seem to like it.
It smells very much like barbie dolls to me --like girly, waxy, pink, plastic toys. (It smells like Strawberry Shortcake's hair.)
And while these sort of nostalgic, surprising associations can be fun, this is not fun.
It smells like it could be a sixth Harajuku Lovers scent.

My son just received a bottle of this, and would like to review it.
he tells me, "It's the best smelling fragrance that I know of."
"It would smell great on an adult but is also appropriate for youth."
Most fragrances that are for younger people have no elegance. They
are almost always in the super fresh or super sweet category.
Not this one!

Its heart is a tad like Bvlgari Black, it's lighter, though, and licorice-y.

My son recommend this one for all men and boys.

Emetic in spray form, thy name is Rumuer.

I know many fragrances that are odd or harsh, but I can fathom someone liking.
Honestly, I do not understand how this can be considered perfume.
It's as if someone thought to add a little freshness to deadly concrete solvent, in the way scents are added to bleach or amonia, to make them somewhat less horrible.

I am reminded of the cliche of one arriving in heaven to a feast of fine foods, only to discover halfway along that he is in fact eating live vermin and feces, and he is, in fact, in hell.

In my delicious, heavenly exploration of the world of fragrances, this was how the experiece of Rumeur struck me. And I couldn't wash it off!

This is my favorite fragrance on Earth.
When I hear talk of comforting drydowns, Y always comes to mind.

I was overjoyed to rediscover this in my mid thirties, when I finally felt mature enough, maternal enough (yes, it has a nurturing quality for me), and sophisticated enough to wear it , without feeling like is was an impostor.

The opening says, "I dare you to contemplate me, " with a brash overload of intense power, but beckons you along with it's vintage, nostalgic intrigue. Then its heart is pure class, a woman riding in Rolls, with impossible jewels.

And the dry down phase for me is utterly enchanting and embracing. A woman who knows herself, and takes charge of her surroundings but shows her whole magnificent heart to her loved ones.

This is the way perfume should smell, and function, for me.
I can wear this all day to work or to the opera. It is super versatile.
This is the perfect fragrance for anyone whose worst perfume fears are of
either smelling cheap or dowdy or overplayed.

I could, too, imagine this on a man, a really elegant man, who is beneficent.

I really think First is a unsung marvel. I always wonder why perfume lovers never list it among the "greats". I actually think many people just have not worn it! And I sort of like keeping it my secret.
I only wore Rive Gauche for ten years, but it was First that broke that devotion -- my first affair. I liked it on me nearly as well. And it was just as capable of conveying sophistication and elegance, with a much more "come hither" effect than Rive Gauche.
For me, it is not unlike Y. But a tad soapier and sweeter.
Anyway, I believe First is a true French masterpiece. I pray it stays the same, and I pray it stays available.
My husband absolutely loves this one me. I think it is very sexy and very timeless, and I don't think it smells old at all. I discovered it in the nineties, and it has always had a classic presence to my mind, the sort of level of elegance that cannot become dated.

I used to buy this to scent my home, especially my bath. I recall many people commenting, upon entering my space, about the lovely smell of my home. I always attributed it to this scent. Funny, I never wore it but in retrospect, I see that I valued it greatly nonetheless. As I write this, I really miss this one. Maybe I will find some.

If I were to create a mixture containing Ten parts Chanel 19, Ten parts First, One part Estee, it would make Private Collection. I consider this fragrance almost too busy, however I love this genre. And it's a scent that I am always pleased to recognise on someone else.

I imagine Estee herself, in a massive, elegant, white-stone-tile sort of sixties mansion, wearing cream or beige, choosing her chypres of the sixties and seventies, always having to have that certain, same lingering effect... always having to be unmistakably Estee... And this one is probably the best of the bunch. Perfectly Unisex as well.

Mitsouko is God.This is a wonderful perfume but is definitely a womans fragrance!!!!!!!!!

I really love this kind of floral chypre, full on attack on your nose, seventies-style. It's pure nostalgia for me, and where I can quite see how one could find this offensive, it's for me that insanely powerful scent recognition experience that classier fragrances like First, Mitsouko, and "Y" subtly, masterfully hint at (it's what they took away from the old Rive Gauche, btw)... in all its seventies,I-am-not-understated-but-AMERICAN glory. And I LOVE it. Not for a fine meal or a date with a snob, but loads of fun nonetheless. Use sparingly.

My father wore Heritage in the nineties, and I remembered it wrong. He is a dark, portly, effete, gourmand of a man, and his fragrances always seemed to be calculatedly classic, with an irreverent splash of, "I'm Latin." (Think Antaeus, Azzaro...) Good things, but not things I would go for, nor feel neither excited nor nostalgic about.
BUT I smelled Heritage again today, and I find it wonderful. I am overcome by associations, i'm thinking of antique stores and old books, voyeuristic, estatesale jaunts into perfectly-kept, time-capsule, men's dressing rooms... I want a bottle as soon as possible for my collection.
I must say though, that this is the fragrance of the man of the house. I tend to be perversely androgynous in my take on most fragrances, saying often that true classics may be worn by either sex and impart faceted, genderless character. But not Heritage. It's a man, this one. An established man with taste and exposure, but staid rather than adventurous. Yet venerable entirely.