Reviews by Sheridan

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    Sheridan
    United States United States

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    Silences by Jacomo

    Silences has been one of my all-time, absolute favorites, one of my "BIG LOVE, can't live without" perfumes since I first acquired it in 1981. I love it as much or more today as I did when I first sniffed it, and through the intervening years have always somehow managed to hold on to at least a sampler vial of it. It is one I've had to miserly ration or even only sniff the cap because there was no way to obtain more. In a much leaner time I was once *thrilled beyond measure to score a small handful of tester vials at an estate sale.

    But, I do not wear it as often as one might think, what with being so madly in love with it. And that has caused me a great deal of self-reflection over the years. I don't wear it as often as others even though I love it more than some in my regular rotation. At times I've even second-guessed my commitment to it. There are other perfumes that are similar, and I have them and love them and wear them, but they are not Silences. It is special to me for reasons I can not fully articulate.

    The initial blast of crisp and cold - no, icy - galbanum is like no other and must be what it is that hooks my heart. The hyacinth and hint of rose that follow and unfold is what sets that hook and the oakmoss reels me in.

    Silences is deliberate, straight-forward and no-nonsense. It is sleek. It is high-speed and low drag. It is retro-contemporary architecture in the genre of Frank Lloyd Wright, with Milo Baughman and Russel Wright furnishings, a Modigliani hanging on the wall and a Henry Moore out in the shade garden. It is Dave Brubeck. It is Ansel Adam's black and white photography. It is a chilly, grey, early spring day.

    It so perfectly conveys a part of me, and I wish to never be without it.

    24 January, 2012

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    Giorgio by Giorgio Beverly Hills

    I was one of those lucky Vogue magazine subscribers back in 1983 who opened up the newest issue and discovered a scented paper sample, impregnated with one of the most remarkable and exceptional fragrances theretofore. It was simply DIVINE; it was flamboyant, it was fun and it was very unusual. It was Giorgio Beverly Hills, and rightfully called "extraordinary cologne". There was nothing else like it.

    To kipe a phrase from SJP's Covet ad campaign: "I had to have it". And because it was, back in the day, rather expensive comparatively speaking, I had to budget for it. But pinching my pennies wasn't a hardship at all; I would've cut back on almost everything just to get my hands on that juice.

    To obtain it, I had to mail away for it. Yes, one had to send a paper check through the mail, and I waited rather impatiently for the parcel to arrive. But the wait was worth it. Yes, this was heaven!

    Potent is an understatement, but I was judicious in how I used it, never more than one mist-and-walk through spray. I would not let it shout, but its presence was delightfuly apparent, and in those days before it became available in department stores, I had many, many appreciative comments and compliments. "What IS that fragrance? It is WONDERFUL!" I don't think I've ever received as many compliments on a fragrance I've worn since. It was absolutely a head-turner, for both women and men.

    And so, I was a happy young woman, happy because Giorgio Beverly Hills is, at its heart, a happy, fun-loving fragrance. Happy because my chemistry made this fragrance blossom and sing, and this unique fragrance was "mine" and mine alone, at least for a short while. But soon enough, that all changed.

    Everyone loved Giorgio Beverly Hills, and when it became available in department stores, everyone got it, wore way too much of it, and it became a sorry cliche; a cariacature that represented the worst of the 80's decade. Primo, the imposter body spray just magnified and further bastardized the situation. It was no longer "mine", no longer unique. And familiarity, while not breeding contempt, did bring a sense of cookie-cutter clones, the very opposite of my personality.

    So, I put it away and moved on to other perfumes.

    Gradually, others put theirs away, too, and it's now rather uncommon to catch a whiff of it while out and about. I can't remember the last time I smelled it on someone.

    My bottle is now 28 years old and only the last third of it remains. The juice has slightly darkened and a few of the sparkling top notes are gone. But overall, it's still all there, still as fabulous and delightful as it was in the very beginning. And I still wear it now and then, without apology. It still suits me, still elicits compliments, still makes me happy. And that's what it's really all about, isn't it?

    13 September, 2011

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