So, I appreciate that Brit was probably the inspiration for all these pick-pepper patchouli frags that litter the mass-market now, so I guess it deserves a little credit. And smelled up close, the way the dry tobacco and cloves mix with the pink pepper, patchouli, and vanilla frosting makes Brit more compelling than I'd given it credit for as I'd smelled it and its clones endlessly wafting around me at random offices and after-work bars for years.
Not to mince words, but this smells basic. It's the smell of a girl who wears her work clothes to a club. It's just too common and not that good. It's fine enough, in the same way that a dinner at The Cheesecake Factory is fine, but not a deep, rich, carefully curated culinary experience. I'll give it enough credit for a neutral rating, but there's no way I'm giving this a thumbs up.
I find Route du Vétiver interesting and quite well done, but it's with all the vetivers out there, it's not really my choice.
Vetiver as a note naturally has a lot of nuances, from brighter elements like hints of lemon and spice to darker elements like iodine and ink. Most vetiver perfumes play up the brighter elements by adding lemongrass and nutmeg, so we kind of tend to think of vetiver itself as a really bright smell. Route du Vétiver goes the opposite direction, playing up the darker elements. As such, I kind of don't like the assertion that it's a more "true" vetiver - instead, I would personally describe it as "contrarian".
So what does it smell like? Well, a deep vegetal, inky vetiver, with the iodine quality amplified until it smells rubbery. It's also ashy - not burnt or charcoal, but dry dusty ashes. The base is more of a surprise, as a cool chalky iris join the vetiver, giving the ash note a bit of cigarette smoke flavor.
Of course, vanilla is the star of this show, flanked on top with dried oranges and apple, while a big slug of gray ash sits there on top, mixing with some chamomile to give the illusion of tobacco. The mix of vanilla and ash is a continuing theme, creating a weird sort of modeling clay smell while the fruits make way for a sort of wooden branch note and some subtle civet. Given time, a weird chocolate note comes in, and the vanilla, chocolate, civet, and ash all come together to smell like artificial chocolate (like a Yoohoo drink) mixed with salty modeling clay.
So, given all that, what are my thoughts? At first, this smells like it's trying to be a combination of elements from Spiriteuese Double Vanille and Ambre Narguile, so it has its goals set pretty high. But I just can't really get around that ash/clay note. And I don't personally care much for the chocolate drydown, but I can imagine many people really liking it.
Honestly, I think there's a tie between Spiriteuese Double Vanille and Tobacco Vanille for best vanilla perfume, and Note Vanille isn't going to dethrone either of them, nor is it likely to appeal to people who don't like SDV or TV. But it really is quite interesting, and a worthy sniff for vanilla fanatics, and possibly for those looking for a chocolate perfume as well.
It's very hard for me to fully disconnect this perfume from others, so I'm not sure I can be 100% impartial. First off, the original Aedes perfume, the one by L'Artisan, is one of my favorite scents of all time, an almost impossibly complex but constantly wearable mix of smoky incense and gourmand elements. Next to that, the new Aedes is just simple. The rhubarb note is fantastic, but it just sort of sits on some vaguely perfumey soap with a hint of wood underneath.
I also can't help but compare this to CDG's Rhubarb, which was also made by Duchoufour. The CDG is a more insistent fruit note surrounded by rice milk and office smells that I find almost impossibly compelling but that seems quite widely disliked for its weirdness. Well, I suppose the point could be made that the new Aedes is a rhubarb for everyone who hated the CDG for being so weird and compelling, because this Aedes is neither of those, instead content to be fruity soap, albeit very well done fruit and soap.
With all that said, I'm still going to give it a thumbs up, because it really does smell good and only truly pales in comparison to scents I like better. And it's still miles ahead of your average fruity perfume...
I've only tried three of the six Tallulah Jane perfumes, but they've all had one thing in common, a structure where a main smell sits on top of a complicated mix of other natural smells. This "Tallulah" base seems to have had a lot of work put into it, as it is quite complex and threatens to turn into that spill-at-the-essential-oil-store smell, but it never breaks out into fish food or seashells or hamsters or that pet store odor that lesser natural perfumes often fall into. Instead, it's complicated, like woods and spices and abstract flowers - unmistakably based on essential oils, but not messy.
On top of this, Misae places a spicy citrus smell. I recognize this note from rose attars - it's not actually citrus, but a fruity-smelling resin of some sort. It's got a hint of pepper and a green piquancy that reminds me of vetiver.
All in all, it's nice, but not really my style, so I'm voting neutral, but if you're into naturals, I'd definitely suggest this as a potential sniff...
At its heart, Lil smells mostly to me like that "woody amber" bleach chemical mixed with burnt pine and a whiff of opoponax that gives the impression of walking through the potting soil section at a garden store. While they don't smell alike, Lil shares enough DNA with Nasomato's Black Afgano that it can give a good idea of Lil's darkness and intensity.
To this darkness, Lil adds a rather surprising and effective raspberry puree topnote, as well as a hint of wintergreen that keeps it smelling "cool" in an abstract sense. The whole thing is inky, both in spirit and smell, and eventually ends up smelling to me like a disinfected doctor's office (but more like something from an S&M movie than a real hospital), with narcotic fumes of rubbing alcohol, as broken Christmas tree branches and vaguely threatening rubber pieces sit in a pile in the background.
Honestly, artful of not, I really hate this bleachy note - it ruins so many mass market scents that I just can't give anything including it a thumbs up, no matter how interesting I think it is, so I'm going with a neutral review, but I do think this is worth a sniff, just to show how artful a "woody amber" can be.
Leotie is one of those better-than-average natural perfumes. It's sort of floral, but not in a traditional perfume way. It doesn't smell like roses or jasmine or regular perfume flowers. Instead, it more of a piquant abstraction of flowers, hinting at wetness and greenness, but never "pretty" in the stereotypical perfume way. Behind this spicy floral abstraction, there's that natural perfume smell, the complex goo you get when the undertones of a whole bunch of essential oils combine into something cohesive but confusing.
I've smelled an awful lot of natural perfumes that never go beyond that essential oil goo stage, so I appreciate that Leotie features that nonspecific floral smell instead of just gunk. But I'm just not really into it, as a matter of personal taste. Natural perfumers have the luxury of working with the absolute best raw materials in existence, and I simply prefer the perfumes that feature these ingredients simply - that's just me...
L'Hombre is one of those interesting scents that's like a gourmand, but without being sweet or particularly edible. At its core, it's sawdusty sandalwood paired up with immortelle, so its foundation smells kind of like a wooden board smeared with maple syrup.
But it's a lot more intricate than just that. The top has a shot of rum and something milky that I can't quite place. In the heart, the maple board smell is rendered a bit charred (perhaps that's the coffee or the oud?) and it actually ends up smelling like toasted hazelnuts. Then, a few hours in, a rich caramelized patchouli comes in, giving a creme brulee effect that never gets too sweet because of the lingering wood.
I really like L'Hombre. I'm usually not a big gourmand fan, but this is every bit as much a wood perfume as it is a gourmand, so I appreciate the balance. I'd also like to give credit where credit is due to perfumer Shelly Waddington - this scent could have been a caustic mess in the hands of a lesser nose, but she pulls it off with a skill not always seen in the indie perfume world. If you were a fan of Francis Kurkdjian in his heyday, somehow piecing together elements that simply shouldn't work into brilliant weirdness, I'd highly suggest giving L'Hombre a sniff...
Lorelei is one of those perfumes that feels a little weird at first, but then settles into something great. Ostensibly, it's white flowers topped with hairspray aldehydes and a touch of ozone. The result is a rather 50's-smelling plasticky lilac, which is a perfume convention I've never really cared for, honestly.
However, given a little time, it all shifts and I end up with cherry blossom and acacia with wafts of honeysuckle and it all smells perfectly like a springtime walk. The plastic lives on as a sort of burnt edge that's hard to describe, but is an integral part of the cherry blossoms and acacia smell. Later in the day, it gets a bit soapy, and it's all quite nice.
The cherry blossom portion of Lorelei is great, but I just don't like plasticky smells as a matter of personal opinion, so I have to vote this a neutral instead of a thumbs up. But fans of plastic-tinged lilacs like En Passant or Ineke's After My Own Heart should attempt to give this a sniff!
So far, I've only managed to sample three Sweet Anthem perfumes, and they've all been good. Deep down, I'm a picky snob and my love for the idea of indie perfumes is usually at odds with my opinion of how they actually smell, so I'm rather excited to find a line that not only makes stuff I like, but seems to have a fully thought out concept, executed well.
So, on to Catherine... It's very honeyed, with just a slight burnt bitter edge like you get in some Italian honeys, largely caused by what I smell as petitgrain. There's a white flower in there as well (maybe neroli?), and the whole thing comes out smelling like a perfumed exaggeration of cherry blossoms or possibly an acacia tree in full bloom, but dripping with honey. The dark, acerbic quality may scare away some lovers of simple florals, but I find it a really interesting and not too weird to stop Catherine from being wearable. Another nice one!
So, I kind of don't like the idea of perfumes advertising themselves as vegan, because it perpetuates a weird lie that regular perfumes still contain animal ingredients, which have mostly been banned for decades. Unless you're buying a very small vial of a musk attar from a very expensive shop in the middle east, nothing you're smelling came from an animal. Oh, and I also think it's funny that they make a big deal about being vegan and then list ambergris as a note... :)
With that little rant over, I should make up for it by saying that Caroline is a fantastic perfume. It goes on with lemon champagne aldehydes that call to mind Chanel No 5, but with the lemon combining with the aldehydes to form a wonderful lemon meringue smell.
With time, it gets creamy, like mix of sandalwood and soap, but with vanilla underneath and creme soda and lingering lemon meringue on top. The end result is sweet but not gourmand or dumb, which is quite a feat. Thumbs way up, despite my little rant...
A few seconds of really fake smelling citrus leading to a dark green smell, sort of like basil, but mostly and intentionally synthetic "herb-ish" smell mixed with an intentionally synthetic "wood-ish" smell sitting next to the smell of swimming pool chlorine.
I understand that this is inexpensive and it's significantly better than I thought it would be, but it's still not particularly good. Given the budget for a discounted bottle of Curve, I'd much rather go with a drugstore staple like Brut or Aqua Velva. Or just save up a few dollars more and go for a truly artful, well done cheapie like Encre Noire.
Wow. I usually don't care much for natural perfumes, and I usually don't really like sweet perfumes, so credit is due to Sweet Anthem for winning me over.
To me, Juliet smells like what you'd get if you built the smells of an old-timey candy store out of flowers. It starts off with jasmine bubblegum and rich, coconut banana ylang, along with that pink jasmine that smells like bananas. There's also something in there that smells like sassafras or those root beer barrel candies. The topnotes have a sparkling effervescence that reminds me of bubbly soda as well.
Given time, it ends up as a heady ylang paired with that banana jasmine, before lingering off into an interesting smell that reminds me of banana bubblegum mixed with waxed paper.
Given my tastes, I really shouldn't like Juliet, but I've really enjoyed it. It's creative and fun in a specific way that I simply haven't smelled before, so an enthusiastic thumbs up!
An interesting leather that starts off quite weird and ends up pretty. The main star of Shingl is a nice suede note, almost creamy and decently rich. On top, it's paired with some craziness - There's a weird animalic rum/gasoline mix that fights it out with the suede for the first hour or so. This stage kind of reminds me of what you'd get if you took all the flowers and prettiness out of Knize Ten and only left the mix of leather and gasoline. Given time, it comes together to smell like rubber cement (I bet they don't still use rubber cement in elementary schools, but it was a weird rubbery glue with a distinctive, vaguely narcotic odor).
After a couple of hours, with the rubber and gasoline faded away, I'm left with that suede, but now pretty and flanked with that peachskin note from Mitsouko. As the day has gone on, the overall effect has gotten a bit cheaper, as a tacky strawberry candy smell has welled up and replaced the peach.
Overall, not bad. Shingl has kept my interest without being distracting, kind of like a suede drone with different adornments coming and going. I didn't love the gasoline part, and really don't like the strawberry part, but the rest was really fun, so I'll give it a neutral.
I should start by saying that the carrot note in the first blast of Eva Luna is amazing. Unfortunately, it's very quickly submerged in a better-than-average but still recognizable "that natural perfume smell" mixture. It's kind of like a box of shells from the beach in a haze of unrecognizable flower petals, while the carrot fuzes with resins and something akin to cloves. A few hours in, as the carrot is long gone, there's a subtle whiff of cocoa under the box of shells.
I don't want to be mean. This really does cast a late night dark blue aura like a midnight sky with a big moon, and I'm not really sure how, so I recognize its artistry. I just don't really like that seashell undertone, so I guess I'll vote neutral, but with definite curiosity about the rest of this line. And, seriously, that carrot note really is great...
L'Hommage exists in a hazy netherworld where it's basically a mainstream scent that's much better than its brothers at the discount store, but it's nowhere near as good as the artful scents it's clearly inspired by.
It goes on with that incredibly common "grape drink" violet smell that masculine scents use to lure in inexperienced noses, but instead of mixing it with the bleachy aquatic smells it's usually paired with, L'Hommage pairs it with a very nice pine forest smell. The grape keeps it sweet and inoffensive enough to not scare away consumers who would never wear a real top-notch smoky wood perfume, while a pinch of leathery oud simmers in the background. There's a moment a few hours in where the grape has largely faded and the whole thing smells like a smoky pine forest with a pinch of oud, but L'Hommage maintains an artificial "fakeness" that's probably intended to keep it safe for the wear-it-to-work crowd, but that unfortunately also smothers any hope of real perfume transcendence. The drydown is just more sweet fake woods, now paired with pie spices - again, not bad, but it could have been so much better.
So, do I give this a thumbs up for being the best mass-market scent I've smelled in a while? It would be hard to do better than this for the $30 it seems to be selling for at the discounters (though for that price, I would honestly buy another Encre Noire before bothering with this). Or a thumbs down for not living up to its true potential (seriously, if you like this, just try to sniff Killian's Pure Oud or Tom Ford's Oud Wood just to see how much better it could have been with only minor tweaks). I guess it get's a neutral vote...
To me, Wood Sage & Sea Salt smells mostly like ionones, those chemicals that smell like violets over suede. There's quite a bit of pink pepper as well, which serves mainly as a familiar touchstone because it's in so many fruity florals, so it keeps this from every smelling too "weird" or "niche". Beyond this perfumey suede-ish mixture, I can just barely perceive whiffs of plywood and cherry, and there's a buttery tone to everything as well.
I can't smell any sage or sea salt to save my life, and think this may have been more accurate if it had been called "Cherry Musk" or "Violets & Suede", but it's OK for what it is. It's not particularly compelling, but it's been years since Jo Malone has released anything truly compelling, so it's just par for the course at this point. It's essentially a Cuir de Russie, but with all the grit and shine polished off and replaced with a sense of familiarity, though it very much doesn't smell like a dumbed-down mall perfume either. It's not bad, but I'm just not quite ready to give this a thumbs up either...
I have to admit I was expecting something very different. I do smell some bergamot in the top, implying earl grey, but it's cut with sugary lemon, while the cucumber is mostly just a quiet green hum that I never would have placed. But the thing that makes it different is that it's quite milky, which makes for a rather strange juxtaposition when placed next to the sweet, bright elements. By the end of the day, it takes on a cocoa vibe as well, so it's kind of like musky chocolate milk. I think I may be making this sound a bit more compelling than it is. It may be doing interesting things, but it does them in a very understated way.
I don't want to immediately write this off for not being the upfront tea smell I expected, and the chocolate milk thing is actually kind of clever, if not my style, so I'll upgrade to a neutral review, which probably could have been a positive if it had just asserted itself a bit more.
Peony & Blush Suede has a fairly nice floral note (which seems to be a Jo Malone specialty) over a standard fruity floral base of pink pepper and sweetened patchouli, with just a pinch of suede to justify the name. The whole affair is quite loud and, as the flowers fade, it smells more and more like fabric softener.
And that's the problem. As a bit of background, there are some musks that were specifically designed for fabric softener that won't wash off and are scientifically designed to last for weeks. I get it, if you want a lingering scent that lasts on your towels while they sit in a closet, but I feel tricked and taken advantage of when I try on a scent and am forced to smell like it for a week as it refuses to wash off. If you ask me, this is what IFRA should be banning. Only sample if you want to smell cheap for days at a time.
Meh. Pink pepper and patchouli, with a touch of cassis and some marshmallowy vanilla. It smells like the drydown of an unimpressive fruity floral fruit-chouli. I guess every important perfume house feels the pressure to maintain a small stable of dumbed down perfumes for the customers who think they want something from a legitimate brand, but don't have the taste to back it up.
Sauvignon Blanc is probably the most easily wearable of this Notes of Wine series. It's also worth pointing out that these are supposed to smell like the notes you'd taste for at a wine tasting, not like the actual wine.
Sauvignon Blanc goes on as a sweet floral, combining sugared citrus that kind of smells like 80's chewable baby aspirin with a white floral that's sweet enough to call to mind mimosa, but not really specific enough to smell like a single flower. There are also plasticky hairspray aldehydes, which seem to be a favorite note of this line, but they're background enough to smell more "perfumey" than "weird art project". Given time, it all fuses together, creating a damp-smelling camellia note that really does smell like a wet flower and is quite enjoyable.
I REALLY like this one. It starts off with oud and saffron over a green, vegetal evergreen smell. Given some time, it blooms into a wonderful smell that reminds me of cherry pipe tobacco, a complex mix of honeyed, woody cedar and chamomile tea, but with the leathery and evergreen elements remaining in play.
Later in the day, it all settles into a smell that reminds me of a damp, mulchy redwood forest the day after a rain, mixed with the smell of a smoky leather jacket.
By the end of the day, it a sweet mix of chamomile tea and sweet cedar, lightly sweetened with residual honey.
It's worth noting that Kilian has said that he won't use real oud because of difficulties responsibly sourcing it, so it's kind of hard to justify the $500 price tag for this Qatar/Beverly Hills exclusive based on that, but it sure smells great... I'd highly recommend sampling if you can.
Merlot is probably as close as Kelly & Jones gets to a mainstream sweet fruity floral, but it's not really that close... The fruits are identifiable as listed (red currant, fig), along with the violet, but it smells more like some sort of candy-sweet red fruit punch than real fruit. But they also incorporate those hairspray aldehydes, so the end result is a smell that reminds me of Skittles candy sitting next to a hot glue gun. As bad as I'm making that sound, it's weirdly compelling and kept me glued to my arm all day (no pun intended). I'm not sure how much I would say that I actually "like" this smell, being a combination of two things I dislike, but any perfume that manages to keep my interest all day deserves at least a neutral rating.
As I've spent the last couple of weeks getting to know these Notes of Wine scents, I can say that Kelly & Jones seems to have a taste for pairing up fruits and flowers with weird synthetics which, while not what I'm into, has made for some truly interesting sniffing. The only one of the line that I actively have disliked is this one, Chardonnay.
There's a certain smell that I associate with the lobbies of cheap hotels, a certain sort of bathroom mopping agent that's supposed to be watered down but rarely is, so it's sort of a nuclear aquatic fruit toilet cleaner smell. With my apologies, that's what Chardonnay smells like to me. I can kind of pick out the woods and vanilla, and there's a cherry lollipop smell in there as well, but it all comes together to smell simply unpleasant and industrial to me.
Cabernet kicks off with a really amazing cherry note, which combines with some sort of woods and maybe some patchouli to actually do a good job smelling like wine. But there's also an upfront ozone smell, like some sort of overheating outer space refrigerator. It's a weird juxtaposition, something as terrestrial as wine combined with the smell of malfunctioning technology. I'm not really sure if this is intended as artful or if they were trying for something else that didn't quite work. Anyway, thumbs up for the magnificent cherry wine note, thumbs down for the weird sweet ozone, averaging out to a neutral rating, but with the caveat that I'll gladly take awkward artful weirdness like this over banal smell-alike mass market repetitiveness and day...
Riesling smells like apple, but with the hedione turned up really loud, so it's exaggeratedly juicy and has a distinct salty mineral smell to it. Given time, a note I can best describe as salted caramel comes in, but it's more like woody molasses than the caramel patchouli you'd expect. And that's about it - overly-juicy apple, woody salty caramel, and an upfront mineral smell.
According to the info with my samples, these perfumes aren't supposed to actually smell like wine, but instead smell like the notes and undertones common in specific kinds of wine, in an attempt to compliment them. Judged as such, Riesling is fairly successful but, especially given its relative simplicity, it's kind of hard to think of it as a proper perfume instead of a weird novelty. It's not bad, but it's a little awkward when divorced of its explanation, and it just doesn't do very much.
"Straight To Heaven - Splash of Lemon" is actually a quite accurate description. Straight To heaven is built on a backbone of Australian sandalwood (the kind that smells like coconut water) and dusty oak. The original throws in hamster-cage cedar and spices, while this new version leaves those out in favor of the splash of lemon.
The end result is basically the smell of freshly-cut plywood soaked in vodka with lemon juice on top. It's quite linear, but somehow it feels vibrant while the original Straight To Heaven often strikes me as a bit dull. I quite like this, but to be fair, it pales in comparison to classic sandalwood citrus chypres like Santal Noble. But still a confident thumbs up, and a note that this is a perfect niche-but-not-too-weird work scent.
A pleasant mix of Australian sandalwood (that kind that smells like coconut water) and dusty oak, with cedar and a sort of nutmeg cinnamon stick smell for depth. It has hints of dry tobacco and frankly, it's mostly that hamster-ish cedar that keeps it from smelling like plywood. I keep smelling it around me, but it seems to fade from my skin fairly fast. My guess is that the base has a ton of ambrox or something similar in it that sort of melds with the skin and doesn't smell like much up close but still puts out decent sillage.
To be honest, Straight To Heaven is perfectly nice, but not very exciting. It's fairly linear and doesn't have smoke or darkness to play against the pleasant woodiness. Thumbs up, but I really can't see myself using a whole bottle of this.
An interesting but ultimately flawed take on woods, Living Lalique starts off strong with a slightly peachskin amber mixed with Tam Dao-esque creamy sandalwood and just a bit of oaky sawdust and a rich creamy base structure that I'm guessing is ambrox. Unfortunately, there's also a big slug of that dumb aquatic aromachemical that smells kind of like sharp rubbing alcohol or an over-chlorinated swimming pool. So, the end result is that Living Lalique essentially smells like a really top-shelf woody niche along the lines of Costes or Bois d'Arménie, but drenched with bleach in a misguided attempt to appeal to less savvy shoppers.
To be fair, I'm judging this as an unfortunately contaminated art perfume, but if you look at it the other way around, this is probably the best mainstream "woody amber" in years, so it's probably still worth a sniff...
A fruit punch mix of smells (maybe pineapple or apricot, and definitely that overused peach and strawberry that are in all the mass-market fruity florals nowadays), but washed in a haze of perfumey chemicals, so it has an interesting spicy, aromatic artificiality to it that keeps things interesting. It takes its "Eau" title seriously, fading down to a fuzzy fruit-ish haze after only a few hours.
Honestly, at its core, Eau Tropicale is a derivative fruity floral, clearly aimed at appealing to the younger, less savvy crowd that likely turns up its nose at Sisley's collection of classics and niche scents, but it's done in a way that doesn't just smell like candy or marshmallows or shampoo, so it's definitely better than most. Not terrible but certainly not great, hence the neutral rating.