Fragrance Reviews by SniffQ

This one changes on me all the time--a benefit. It can be green, and there are times it smells exactly like rose, then it phases to . . .beer. Yep, beer. Then back to green. Very close to the skin.

It smells exactly like Aveda Gaiam did when they had it as a purefume. It's a wonderfully blended fragrance, but not for the shy.

This one came as a complete surprise to me. I'm not a vanilla fan, as i don't want to smell like muffins. But it doesn't. On my tricky body chemistry, it is more floral than expected and gentle. Not foody at all. It seems to have a bit of amber and spice in it, although I get no smokiness at all.

A real surprise from Cartier. The musk, cedar and patchouli, which I generally don't care for in a fragrance are well behaved and very well blended.

The opening is crisp, green and stays close to the skin. It develops with a light incense coolness and no floral sticky or cloying overtones.

It is sophisticated, elegant and even when adding the body products, it can be an office scent. I like spraying it on the pillowcases before going to bed.

While I can certainly enjoy it on a man, my body chemistry warms it nicely as a feminine scent.

I love figs. Rich and sweet, but not too sweet. But like green tea fragrances, I get the idea that perfume noses decided they would settle on what a fig smells like and then make variations of that for fig perfumes. To me, it doesn't smell like figs, it smells like. . .dry grass and tomato leaves. I love sniffing at the bottle, but I wouldn't wear it.

So wonderful were the reviews that I did the stupid thing--I couldn't find a sample, but all the notes seemed perfect, so I ordered a full bottle.

It is a lovely fragrance,interesting and rich, but my chemistry takes the musk and blows it up all out of proportion. And on me, that isn't pleasant.

The hay and leather is absolutely yummy, and the sweet, which could have been too heavy, is tempered by honey, amber and musk.

If only I had purchased Arabie instead--you know, the one all my friends talked me out of. Proving once more that no matter what it smells like on someone else, if you haven't tried it yourself, don't buy a full bottle.

Once I figured out that this was Anti-matter in French, it was easier to accept the fragrance, which is anti-fragrance. Sometimes we get an idea and overthink it. When we are done, we reach some perfect creative ideal. What we forgot to do was bring the people who are interested along with us. They are about two miles back, going "Where are we and why should I care?"

That's how I feel about this fragrance. I'm sure Les Nez worked years to eliminate a top note, mid note and for me at least, bottom note. I smell nothing. No clean laundry, no angora sweater, no faint musk. I smell Dove soap, which I showered with this morning.

I get it, Anti-matter. But I wear perfume to enjoy the top, the mid-, the bottom note. I like the first whiff out of the bottle, I like the change over the day, I like the drydown. I like the different smell on the clothes than on my wrist. So antimatter may be the perfect perfume for some, but top notes don't fool me, they delight me. And I want 'em. I want a mid-note too. And Antimatiere, while conceptually perfect, is a perfect shrug-off for me.

I'm going with those who think this is the best of the three. I love the dry, woody scent. Every now and then I get a whiff of balsa or wood under the woodburning tip. Spices, not too sweet. Lasts all day. But as much as I like it, I'm not sure it is full bottle worthy.

This is an unusual fragrance. It opens with a frost of green bean, true, but that can be a good thing. Vegetal and herbal smells are close. The green bean thing fades fast on me, and I get a pleasant herbal. I don't get iris or violet, both of which don't do well on me. I find the drydown wonderful.

First sniff out of the bottle is dry, but not brittle. Spice--is that a hint of mastic?--coriander,something stoney, but just blowing by on a dry, rich breeze. Dry and woody at mid-note, with incense. I long for complex, rich orientals and can't wear them. I smell like an old harlot. This, however, is complex enough to suit me and interesting enough to draw my attention. Probably a man's scent, but I'm frequently comfortable there.

My second-skin fragrance. No metal, not harsh, no mosquito repellent. I have a weird body chemistry, and CdG 2 masters it. Never loud or harsh, it is something different every 30 minutes. I don't know what sumi ink smells like, so I'll guess that's the spicy top note. It then spirals up into something almost rose, but not floral, sort of like walking through a fabulous florist shop which has one fresh rose in the cold case. As it dries down, it is comforting but not cloying, sexy but not vulgar, elegant but not sharp. And since I like a body cream with it, I layer it with Costes. Divine!

Closely related to Eau de Soir, but more refined, elegant and smooth. While I didn't get any single spice, it has a powerful spice opening and immediately settles into: Rose. Well, more correctly, ROSE. I'm not a rose fan, so I was about to write it off, when the rose vanished and that interesting Eau de Soir drydown came out with an intriguing, rich, depth. None of the Eau de Soir sharpness. Lovely and powerful. Not for the shy.

Sprayed it on. Chocolate. Loud, sweet chocolate. It went from that directly to overly sweet and sticky smell with no definition. I love almost all Jo Malone's fragrances. I have no idea who ignored her sensibilities and opened a bag of instant hot chocolate and called it a scent. Scrubber.

I bought a full-price bottle of Hiris today, and I'm not even crazy about it. I was looking for Chanel's Bois des Iles and the perfume shop woman said it was impossible to find, and made a few suggestions. I love sniffing, so I let her lead me around, chatting about various fragrances she suggested. Small shop, older, very dignified woman. I asked about Hiris, and she opened a full bottle to let me smell it. I was horrified--why would she open a full bottle? I felt guilty enough to buy it. So unlike me. But there was something about the bottle, and the fragrance in it, that I liked. It develops nicely, is very interesting, dry, sophisticated. I get absolutely no vanilla. I do get a sort of dry paper husking around a fall landscape smell. I get nothing warm or comforting, but I still like it. I'm guessing it will develop. There is always the bottle. . .

Many years ago, I went to Morocco. I loved the spice market--it was exotic and the smell of the spices in the hot sun was intoxicating. I was not dressed correctly for the culture--or the direct sun-- and a veiled woman offered me a djallabah. While I was putting it on, she asked me to tea, and we had dates, pastry, and a type of mint tea I had never had before. Arabie put me right back into that afternoon--dates, spicy tea, and a wonderful melding of labdanum and rich, full aromas of fruits.
I've never had luck wearing SL fragrances, except for this one. On me, it doesn't last long, but worth the extra spritz. Great in-bed fragrance for winter, too.

I love this fragrance. I first tried it in winter, and decided that I didn't care if it was snowing, this fragrance was amazing in any season. The Petitgrain is both sweet and cooling, and the pepper and labdamum warmed it. I was heartsick when it was discontinued until I found Iskander by Perfumes Empire. It is as close as I can get to Eau de Patou without the real thing, and I'm in heaven again--and we are heading toward winter.

Sigh. I have tried to like Serge Lutens fragrances. Who am I not to like a sophisticated, complex, carefully-composed fragrance by a giant name in the fragrance industry? But everyone I have tried--Un Lys, Chypre Rouge, Daim Blond, Miel du Bois, has an unpleasant component along the line. And I'm picky about fragrance--I want to love every moment, from the spill of scent when I open the bottle, to faint sniff left on my wrist when I slide into bed. And Douce Amere doesn't work that way. The opening is quite sweet--which I'd expect from something called "SweetBitter" (Douce Amere) Anise is bold; I'm not a licorice fan. Then comes, chocolate. Clearly, absolutely cholocate. I'm not a fan of food scents. Love chocolate, but passed the time in my life where I wear what I eat.
After the anise and chocolate dies down, a strong, sweet and spicy and lovely scent remains. Good for winter--on someone else.

Lorenzo Villoresi's scents are delightful--in the bottle. I find them too loud, too strong, too much sillage for the way I like to wear a fragrance. Alamut is no exception. Out of the bottle wafts a strong anamalic scent--and while I know that is sophisticated, to me it just smells unwashed and unpleasant. I tried it anyway, and the animalic part hides underneath rich spice tones, but it keeps peeking out, like a dog that's hiding under the bed because he's piddled on the rug. I don't find it endearing. Sure, it's my chemistry, but that also means I can't wear it. Might like it on others. From a distance.

Just got a sample of Iskander along with Sienna L'Hiver and tried them both. Iskander is amazing. I like citrus, but the rounded, soft citrus that is the beginning is welcome, fresh and warm. I am not a cedar fan, and for me, the cedar is not prominent. What happens next is what I love in a fragrance--over the next 30 minutes, the smell evolved, developed and blossomed. I got dry woods, a hint of tarragon (better as a perfume than as a spice), and then the cedar came back, softened by something else. I'd love to say corriander, as the seed fragrance is a favorite, but I'm not sure. But absolutely, a wonderful fragrance if it stays.

L'Artisan fragrances bring out a real dichotomy of duality in me. I either love them or hate them. Mandarine Tout Simplement I loved, but it vanished from my skin in seconds. Ananas Fizz is a wonderful scent for an hour. Saffran Troublant is a horrible scent for a day. (Just my opinion, I know it has many fans.) Four d'Absinthe starts out as a strong, fabulous smell, and within an hour it settles into a smell of unwashed armpits.

So I wasn't sure where Dzongkha would fall. It fell into my heart. At first it was stony and dry, like a wind brisking along a November mountain ridge. Then the incense wafted up, as if I were approaching a monastery on the ridge. Then a wisp of dry iris. The chai and cardamom, which I had hoped to find, was gone, if it was ever there.

It smells almost sacred, the smell you would wear on a spiritual journey. Not for everyone, but a wonderful scent for explorers.

In the late 80s and 90s, this was my signature scent. I loved how it bloomed, that it was never loud, and that it stayed in my clothes. I dropped a scarf once, and a woman picked it up and crushed it to her cheek. "Lovely!" she said. "I knit it myself," I said proudly. She took the scarf from her face and handed it to me. "No dear, not the scarf, the fragrance." It still is. I know it's and oriental, but to me, it will always be the embrace of someone who believes in you.

Tangerine. Absolutely, positively, and it will stay overnight. And be with you at breakfast the next morning. I get nothing else, and a lot of it. Excellent tangerine scent. Have I mentioned it smells of tangerine? I love citrus scents, and I wished this bloomed on me more. Or made me feel less like I lived in a little wooden box stuffed with fat orange fruit. But it carries through on its name. Tangerine. All tangerine, all the time.

On the paper strip, it was a dream. On my skin, a nightmare. I know I have a bizarre skin chemistry, but that second-skind scent has to be there somewhere. I loved the first 20 minutes. The top was a creamy citrus. Lovely. Then came the vetiver, which I think is a more masculine scent. And after that? Somehow armpit and wood. And it wouldn't go away. I've smelled it on others, and it's what I want for me. But on my skin, a scrubber.

Aoud Lime tempted me with its name, but I it doesn't smell like lime. Instead, after I inhale it, I get the memory of lime on my palate. I get a complex mix of soft/sharp, then a rush of very interesting, rich, fragrance built into a precious wood container. It dances through the notes and settles into a wonderful, subtle, close-to-the-skin fragrance. I own Clive Christian's X (for women) and it resembles it closely, at one third of the price.

Had I not smelled this fragrance before I saw the name, I would never have bought it. Almonds and vanilla sound like such a common, bland combination, I would have passed it by. But I smelled it on someone first, then bought a sample, and then could not resist it. On me it creates a rich, complex, warm fragrance that makes me feel comfortable, surrounded by rich, soft fabrics. It lasts all day, and clings to clothes so they welcome you back. I have gone so far as to use one spritz into the dryer when I am drying sheets and towels. I weighed this carefully, the fragrance is expensive. And worth it. It's the only vanilla fragrance I love.

Bois farine is a rare fragrance that i didn't like to smell in the bottle and love to wear. It's sweet and generous, and I adore the wheat smell, which smells of kitchen and love to me. I don't get as much of the peanut top note as others, for me it is a more subtle wood note that underscores the flour-powder feel. A delightful creation.

I adore this fragrance. But it is the one night stand of perfumes. On me, it does not last five minutes. So I spray, sniff, love it and watch it evaporate and leave. It's uplifiting, fun, delicious, sunny, fresh, and gone. Buy a big bottle, and soak yourself in it. It's worth it!

Jasmine tea, with a lemon slice and an extra dollop of sugar. I love the fragrance one day at a time. I am a lover of fresh citrus fragrances, and this one is a little too sweet for me. But irresistable, still. Which is why I love it for a day. In the summer that may be two days a week. I find it nothing like Bulgari's green tea, which I find to be less sweet, but also less complex. I love the short complexity that this fragrance tumbles through.

Feral honey with darting golden eyes caged in a raw, dark wood container for its own good. Not a fragrance for someone who wants to smell "nice" or "girly." An adventurous fragance that settles down and stops growling and attracts the curious and interesting.

I have survived the explosion of Flowerbomb. Is this a good name for a fragrance? And do I want to buy something in the shape of a hand grenade? Well, it's a violent experience of flowers that will certainly get the (shocked) attention of everyone around you with the noise of fragrance. One of the reasons I wear perfume is to experience the flow of a fragrance from top note to drydown. Flowerbomb doesn't do that. You put it on and it stays that way till you scrub it off. Or surrender. It should be called Flower Claxon. Perfect for someone who likes a lot of attention over a long period of time. Unfortunately, not for me.

Daim Blonde is a mysterious fragrance that captures pale suede--which is what it is named for. The drydown stays close to the skin, with a fragile, brittle aroma that is at the edge of interesting and not what I want to wear. It is a fragrance that needs to be tried over time to develop a love for it.

Yuzu, herbs, blast of citrus. Sharp sparkle, lift-me-up-give-me-hope, then a disappointing drydown.
Wet fruit washed with strong soap, left to dry in the sun. Stays at mid-note with a vengence. And stays and stays. The body wash is lovely. I use it to wash my delicates and its a great fresh feel.

A fragrance to love--and to mix with others. It's light and lovely, doesn't last really long, but it pleasantly woody without being vetiver-ish. It wears well with the nectarine body cream and wearing it with the fig and cassis body cream also works on me. On it's own, it's gone too soon. But a fragrance you can wear anytime and any day.

As a citrus lover, I bought the body cream and the fragrance. The first rush of grapefruit is so sublime, I thought I'd found my second-skin scent. Alas, not. Within an hour it no longer smelled of grapefruit, but of white flowers. I'm not a white flower lover. And not once I got a whiff of that amazing grapefruit zest, that delightful, perfect scent match.
Great if it works on you!

I should like this more, but I don't. On me it's starts loud and sharp and then. . .well, there is no dry down. It smells exactly the same way for 12 hours. No softening, no deepening. Just the same yelling of lime leaf and what seems to be strong soap. The body wash, however, is totally different. Lots of soft bubbles in a sexy, soft scent.

A rich, complex herbal fragrance with great sillage. Not for those who like sweet or orientals. it blooms and changes over time. The base doesn't have that chemical musk smell. I have a difficult body chemistry, and turn perfumes into awful concoctions. But not this one. Didn't experience the sharpness some have mentioned. Just a great fragrance with lasting power but not enough to fill an elevator and make everyone else notice.