Sex and the sillage - Page 3  

Well, I still think he's scary. He just doesn't look normal to me, but then people say the same thing about Todd Lincecum and he's the sweetest kid ever, and been blessed with an extraordinary career for being such a flaming pot head. People have been known to say the same about me. I think the PUH guy is offensive for me to look at because he looks as if he might hurt you--there's something "Malefique" in his gaze (Malefique = "evil" or "ill-intentioned" in french) & then, for me, he is just butt ugly. But then , of course, my idea of a Beautiful Man is Adrian Brody--clearly a vanity thing as I am told I look a bit like him--and once I saw him, and got to spend time with him, and found him to appear most affable. I loved his work in the Piano: Truly loved it. He "WAS" that character. I got to meet him because a very dear/close friend of mine, a woman of extraordinary wits and intelligence, is the cousin of this pianist he played in that movie and one of the few survivors of that family, most of whom were murdered during the Holocaust. My taste in men should not be "counted." In order for me to find a man attractive, there must be some sort of ugliness about him that does not breathe "evil." (I love the look of Jason Schwartzman, for example, and found him visually PEREFCTLY cast as Louis XVI by Sophia Coppula in "Marie Antoinette." People forget just how "strange" the poor, unfortunate last true King of France was: If you examine the marble busts you get an idea of this, but then the sculptures who honed these were very "sympathetic" to his features. The actor who played Louis XVI in the original Norma Shearer production of Marie Antoinette was also perfectly cast. I will say: Sophia Copula's "Marie Antoinette" is about 100% more effective if you can watch it and understand it in "Version Francaise." I watched it only once in English (on a plane) and thought it suffered greatly in translation. It is a near perfect movie when dubbed in French, and the disjointed musical score I love. This, to me, is the MOST accurate depiction of the Court of Louis XVI, visually, I have ever seen: The colours, everything: It was also the VERY FIRST (and perhaps the last) film the French Government allowed to be shot on the premises of the Royal Palace of Versailles. (there was damage: Significant enough for it to probably never happen again)I also found Jason Schwartzman effective in that strange movie where he appears with his two brothers on a wild train ride through Turkey--I like this kind of film, and I like this kind of face. I think men are behooved to not be perfect: It's sexy. Nothing worse than a perfect male face: True beauty belongs to the Fairer Sex: I suppose I am a bit chauvinistic that way, But, that's just me....I suppose: You wouldn't hold it against me? I agree with Lillybelle: True leather scents turn me off: Only ELO's "Rien" has ever "done it" for me--but this is SUCH a delicate scent--almost like no scent at all--the worst: (UGH!) Tabac Blond. I witnessed ONE person to wear this effectively, my best friend: on anyone else, an horror!

OH, Beauty, Beauty, Beauty. That's a face.

Obviously, I'm a study in vanity: I *ONLY* like this kind of man face--and guess who has one? ehm....Moi. You know WHY these men have such a beauty to them? I'm here to tell you: Pain. First of all, when you're young, your face hasn't "grown into" your features. When people make fun of my nose now, I laugh, because when I was young I looked like a McCaw bird: Now at least my face is long enough to "hold" my nose: Before, I literally looked like a comic strip: Adrian Brody, I know he was the same: You grow up with everyone making fun of you, Girls think you're ugly, boys beat you up, and there's a depth of pain that settles into your eyes. It's just what happens...until one day when you finally look in the mirror and accept that your nose is too big, your eyes are too big, everything's too big--and you start to learn how to decorate yourself in such a way that the whole picture becomes, if not beautiful, at least somewhat soulful or interesting. I feel that way about myself now, but for most of my life I felt cheated: Why did I have to have all these bizarre proportions--because you know, when you're young, other youngsters stare at you. You learn that you're not quite right--finally--this disbalance becomes STRENGTH. I think that's what happened to me. Now I flaunt. I never hide. I embrace: But it took years and years and years, and I would cry to my mother, who was most beautiful, and so were my uncles, and I would say: What happened to me? Why do I have to look like this? And she would tell me: Because you are so beautiful, that nobody else could ever look like you. NOW STAND UP STRAIGHT! (I can hear her say that to me, smoothing my hair) You know, for a man, it's good to grow up a bit off kilter, I think: It builds character. It's a pity the world won't let you see it. When I met Adrian Brody, we both laughed and he was very affectionate and called me "Brother." All we did was talk about the "pain" of being captive in facial and body proportions that are not quite right--and how we grew into it--what it took: he told me that for him it was what allowed him to act the way he does: Me, it's what allows me to see into other people's minds--in a way, it's a blessing. Unless of course you're the PUH guy! OH DEAR!!!!!! I'm with the girls on this one: ANYTHING would be OK with me to clean that up. It's just scary. It's strange, though, how standards are different with men and women, isn't it? Men can be "sort of ugly" and still be wildly attractive--more difficult for a woman. Me, for instance, I thought Barbra Streisand was quite beautiful as a youth--in the sixties--but there was quite a lot of hair, clothes, and make-up involved--and of course talent: I saw a picture of her when she had just married Elliot Gould: She of course looked like a nymph: She's very tiny--and Elliott Gould was quite tall in his day: They looked like the perfect couple: the two ugly kids who found each other, and, together, they looked perfect. I believe very much as do the french in matters of beauty: In order for it to be sublime, there must be something that isn't quite right....it't what makes "le chic." This is why I love the perfumes I do: they are all so subtle in their hint of wrong, like Jicky with it's poopy civet--or Bal a versailles and it's sweaty underwear: Here in lies the beauty. Give me something too maudlin or twee and I'm just not intrigued. That's where, for instance, I would say: Kirstin Dunst is SO MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE than Nicole Kidman--Me--I love that film. Her--she's just way too "British Isles" for me. I could never be enthralled with her visually--all I'd want to do is remodel her--Give me a Tilda Swinton, or a meryl Streep, or a Faye Dunaway....I need the funk--the dirt--to feel the heat.

(W/Re: The "Non Hair & make-up" PUH Guy: OMG: I'm going to go shave. SAVE ME!!!!!!)

Oh, Inga! I want to see you in your "Adele" look! See: If someone would just teach us how to post photos from our i-photo libraries, wouldn't it be a scream? I could do a mock up of each one of those AB photos--except my hair isn't black: It was in the 80's, though, AND I had that EXACT 'do: We used to call it "Le Petard" (The Firecracker!") I think that photo of AB must be an old one: He doesn't look quite like that these days--or at least lately--he looks more like the previous photo. What do you suppose makes some of these men do so well in youth, then really go astray as they age (other than age itself, of course)? Example: Nick Cage: He was quite the looker back in the day. Now he just looks scary. Same with John Travolta: What happened to him? It's clear these men are getting all the usual Hollywood injections, just like they all do, but how, for instance, did John Travolta go from being so lithe and sinewy to being all stumpy and thick? And what exactly happened to Nick Cage that he should loose his looks the way he did? You mentioned the Beauty Parlor: Now this is "Vanity and the Sillage." (Note we've lost the men.) I hate ANYTHING to do with hair salons, or hair dressers. The only reason I spend so much time at the nail spa is I love the chair, and a good foot massage! The hair--me--once a year--already too much hairdresser time for my taste. I think I OD'd on all that in the 80's: There were days when I worked as a model when I'd have three different hair colours in one day--no joke--and a more boring job does not exist: Standing in a freezing cold tent in January in a bathing suit waiting to have someone slap make-up all over your body and fuss with your hair--then two second up and down the catwalk and on to the next show/humiliating moment: Same with the blazing heat of June--you're all decked out in six ply cashmere and fur sweating bullets standing there....just waiting....Now, I'll fuss with my clothes because I like decorating my body--but the hair and beard--pretty much "au naturel." (THANK GOD I DONT HAVE THOSE BIZARRE HAIRY CHEEKS!!!!!) I actually fuss ten times more with my beard: I'm forever brushing it and trimming it. There's something distinctly unattractive about a beard that's not impeccable: But I MUST have one--I just can't shave--it's too....bloody. (Beards also make delightful perfume difusers!!!!!) I was trying to get some feedback from certain people about sex and the sillage: the actual phenomenon--not the thread--and it seems that women do actually like their men to be fragrant: They are quite picky about which scents they find attractive on which men though. (Current "Lady Fav's: John Varvatos and Terre d'Hermes) I asked three gay men and they ALL said that they just liked the smell of the man. (I somehow just don't get this at all. I like the scent of flesh burning through perfume--on its own--not so much--or else rarely) As it appears, my "Jicky" is most appreciated--I had no idea--since I never talk about it, people don't know what it is--but as I've been asking the question, it has come to light that my "Jicky" is quite the hit. Nobody said it was a sex bomb, though, the way they do with G-Gentleman. What I got was: "It smells like you." "It's your essence" "It will always be yours and yours alone" The one I loved the most: "It's your personality as a fragrance." --I thought that was most touching--so of course I had to pry: "How So?" --Answer: "It's just you who can walk around smelling like that. It's very european. It goes with your clothes. Mostly, it just translates your personality perfectly" (by this time I was blushing) Ah! Jicky! what would I do without you? I will report that I scored on e-bay and bought a boat load of Eau de Parfum. I have several unopened bee bottles--3 500ml ones i think--that I am letting "age." I only started buying the EDP when the EDT turned to "Wasser." It seems the EDP is "meatier." It's more masculine. It's very much it's own scent: Not as "pastry" as the parfum, not as "Lemon Pledge" as the EDT. I must admit though: I have been blasting it with G-Gentleman below the belt: My secret--ladies & gents: Try it. Rube tried it--he couldn't believe how well it worked: BLAST the area from pubes to belly button with your stronger scent--then dress as usual. I think this is *the only way* I can wear G-Gentleman EDT: It makes sense, too: If your going to be that raunchy, GG, you are staying IN my pants!

OK: I'm good at this. We are addressing IN BED SEXY. NOT walking down 5th Avenue Sexy. I know quite a lot about what humankind find erotic in a perfume, as it has been the subject of endless studies and I have participated directly in many, even conducted them: There is a kind of divide when it comes to the erotic content to scent. If it's a numbers game, the most erotic scents in the world are:
1. Vanilla
2. Cinnamon
3. Lavender
Interesting, no? Remember: We are discussing here IN BED SEXY. These molecules are PROVEN to go straight to the G-Spot in both men and women. It's a scientific study, not a study in taste. Those are the top three. There is a sub division all its own, and it is occupied by the one and only:
4.Jasmine
Jasmine is apparently naturally equipped with erogenous zone enhancers. This is one of the many reasons it remains one of the most used molecules in perfumery: It is also one that can trump the senses when used in its synthetic form: In other words, it is just as sexy in its engineered status as its natural one. These four scents are really the only ones that have been scientifically proven to arouse thoughts of a sexual nature in humans. The rest: a matter of taste. Aldehydes were invented to sublimate natural essences, not to be over used or used of their own accord: Aldehydes on their own smell a bit like isopropyl. It is forever a wonder to me that Chanel No5 has had the career it has because, to me, it is probably the least "in bed" sexy perfume I know. The ones that are sure fire "In Bed Sexy" are the Vanilla-laced spicy jasmine scents: Shalimar anyone? The things that is the most surprising about this is that it doesn't matter if the ingredients are natural or synthetic: Shalimar, of course, uses synthetic vanilla: it's what gave birth to the scent to begin with, though it is mixed with several other types of natural vanilla.
Posing questions like "Are Florals Sexy" is a bit like asking: "Is that new "Mango" shade that's all over everything for Fall 2012 attractive?" because the answer will depend on so many different elements: I know for a fact that I will not be wearing a "mango" turtleneck this fall, because it would only make me look ill: Give me a cobalt blue one, on the other hand, a colour i detest and find very vulgar and common, and I need a whip and a chair. Just as most people lack an understanding of what truly suits them chromatically, So also do many people lack depth of understanding about skintypes and scent: People say it's nonsense and it just isn't: Your skin type/thickness determines what will smell attractive on you, and what wont. Let's take some extreme examples: Cate Blanchett. It's not because she swears by SKII that she has milk white skin. It's because she has milk white skin. This kind of skin is thin--so heavy spices and woods and musks just sit on top of it and fester, eventually smelling putrid, because they "rot," while the lighter scents--florals--bigarades--are absorbed and live comfortably beneath the skin where they can bloom: This is what needs to happen in order for a scent to be effective. Chypres LOVE olive skin people--people with a thick dermis, so all these ingredients can be absorbed. Olive and dark skins also LOVE spice notes, resins, woods, and all of these types of ingredients often found in men's scents: It's why we just know that, say, Halle berry would wear "Habanita" very well--or--(ugh) this kardashian train wreck--or any of those brooklyn girls--would wear this "kind" of scent well, while a nothing floral will just wilt and disappear on them. this smooth dark skin they have is about the easiest to perfume: the most challenging--the thin, thin, Cate Blanchet type skin that has no depth. SO: In answer to your question--there is no "sexy/not sexy" in reality: there is "What is sexy on you." What is sexy on you will depend on: Your skin, and what you eat: it's as simple as that. Here's an opinion. *I Think* Bal a Versailles smells very sexy on me--but, in reality, it's *only* because it has all the hallmark filth built in that suits me so well. I've never thought "Jicky" smelled "sexy" on me--but--it *SUITS* me: It's a discussion. What makes you "feel" sexy? BAV makes me "feel" sexy--but--interestingly--I would NEVER wear it if I thought sex were on the menu. If sex is on the menu, and it's meaningful sex, *the only* scent i can wear is Jicky--only because, for me, wearing Jicky is like wearing nothing. If it's raunchy thrill-seeker sex, I'll do KOM, BAV, GG, any of these--but it's more for me--you see, it's a selfish choice. In my opinion, on certain women, florals ARE sexy--but i like a musky floral--like "Je Reviens," which drives me batty--I'm with you on the note of Chypres: Not sexy. Too butch. Vol de Nuit, for example--I just don't think women should smell like that: Chypres are too "hairy" for me to find them sexy on a woman. But I like musk on a woman: Note these are always DRENCHED in jasmine--(KOM)--I suppose, as a man, what I *REALLY* find UNATTRACTIVE on a woman, is *ANYTHING* that smells like a man. Sort of like.....here: Tip. Don't ever wear lace patterned hose. Men hate them--because they look like wet hairy man legs in the shower at the gym. This is just "my" opinion. I think, ultimately, what is sexiest on YOU--is what makes you FEEL feminine. (Mind you: I write "I think.") What I find the most erotic on me, for instance, is what makes me feel like a rake. But that's "erotic." If I'm up for real sex, that is, not just a self indulgence, all i want on me is what I can't smell--which would be Jicky. If I'm up for fun and games, I want to smell the part--but again--this is to augment MY thrill: So it's a very intricate question.

None of us are equipped, nor do we have the inclination, to even begin to suggest that what the Dr. says above isn't accurate: Who doesn't cherish the scent of a giant, full blown rose? Interestingly, after i left my post above, i remembered: "Damn! I forgot the rose!" The rose has it's own universe, like jasmine, and is considered universally appealing: Note: APPEALING. Of course horrid things can be done with it--like Jo Malone Red Roses--just as pure alchemy can happen with it that borders on unearthly magic: Joy. The rose is the the number five spot on the heavy hitting mega list but is less hard wired to go between the legs than jasmine, which, truly does indeed "go there." Note: Jasmine + Rose + other things = about 80% of all the perfumes of the world, including a surprising percentage of men's fragrances. Addressing Fleurine's question: I do believe that it's YOU who decide if florals are sexy or not, and by that i suggest sexy on you. The WORST possible resource of information to answer this question is a perfume SA: I don't care which one it is, or where they work. "You keep hearing florals are not sexy" Well--that has to do with fashion, not science: If florals were not sexy, we'd all be walking around smelling like tree sap. There is also the question of YOUR AGE. Each age group finds different things sexy. It's what explains things like "Be Delecious" by DKNY, or CK anything by Calvin Kein, or "Hungry Hungry Hippies" by Smell Bent. It's like clothes, Fleurine: Ask ANY MAN: "Is Lanvin sexy?" and GUARANTEED, they're going to be sort of like: "Um, what's that thing hanging off her shoulder? Is it a ham?" We each have to decide what is sexy on US, and why. What we MUST do in order to achieve this, is learn to NOT be a victim of the media, which is so much more difficult than it seems: In my practice, this is the MOST challenging part of my work--trying to get people to understand that the media is merely designed to make you spend money--and that's it: Once you've handed over the plastic, it's job is done. The media doesn't acre about you--why should you care about it? Anna Wintour decides that over the knee boots (or whatever) are the must haves of the moment. If you don't have them, you're nothing. Meantime, the best part of your body are your ankles, calves and knees: How much do you "need" over the knee boots? Glenda Baliey decides starppy toe-baring sandals are the way to make that slouchy, buggy, shoulder-heavy man tailored suit we now have to look at AGAIN on women--(shudder)--look "Now." Meantime: You hate your toes. How many pairs are you going to buy? Tom Ford, some kid from texas, who slept with the right people at the right time and is blessed with a really sharp intellect, decides smelling like a man's crotch is sexy in a woman: He's a flaming queer. Are you listening? The question is not: "Are ................... sexy?" the question is: "What's sexy about ME, and how can I sublimate it, if sexy is what I'm after?" I once knew a grown woman....and "knew her well," who wore, and had been wearing since she was THIRTEEN, "Love's Baby Soft." It was *SO SEXY* on her. I know another one, (who, admittedly, I know "less well") who, everyday, wears "Fracas," and has done for ages: as long as I've known her, and it *STINKS* on her--it's really repulsive--when in reality "Fracas" can be very effective on the right woman--(even though, personally, I don't love tuberose) So, My dear: Start from the INSIDE, and work OUT. :-)

I LOVE OLD SPICE.

Old Spice isn't Old Spice for just any reason: As it happens, say what you will about it, Old Spice smells great. Of course, with this kind of nuclear strength drugstore cologne, it's very easy to over-apply, which is where most people who would indulge in such a product shamelessly will invariably go wrong: Put too much on, (and "too much" is not a lot, compared to the delicate $1000,00 concoctions we're used to) and it's a veritable nightmare. I have used Old Spice deodorant "Original Stick Formula" for about 30 years: It was not available in France, so my mother would send it to me: When I would visit England, or the US, my suitcase would come back so packed with "Old Spice" everything--bathing products essentially: Bubble bath--powder and the like, it would weigh such a lot that people at the check in counters in airports would look askance at me: This of course was pre-fascist travel state era. I can't say that i ever owned any of the cologne, but the the scent of everything else has made me happy my whole life: Just recently have I switched to my new stash of G-Gentleman Deo--which has revealed itself to be an interesting switch: The two products function very differently, principally in that French deodorant tastes better, yet is not nearly as effective in controlling rank underarm smells. I get what you mean about these "Cashmere Bouquet" faint rosy scents: Nivea is like that for me: I have always used the old spackle grade Nivea blue pot "creme" on my hands, and the scent I find most relaxing. Ombre Rose is a *very* sexy scent: At least by my estimation. I know it well. It is fairly singular in its usage of light tea rose and powder: Very effective on certain skin types, as is "Ombre Bleu." Jean-Charles Brosseau made some very fine scents. So: Why then would you ask--"Are florals sexy?" Clearly, on you, Fleurine, they are. Interestingly, though, on certain women, they are not in the least, and harken "Feminine Deodorant" smells. This discussion you bring up about drinking and eventually smoking is a most valid one: The scents of the 20's all illustrate a very keen capacity to "handle" the remnants of alcohol and smoke, as do many from the 70's. Tonight I had an interesting tie-in with our current discussion: I had the pleasure of dining with a very lovely woman of impeccable taste: I noticed her scent many times over the course of the evening. It was, for me, the only thing that wasn't quite right about her: Her skin/hair type would be 100% Anne Hathaway. Bone white complexion, dark ash brown hair. She wafted this very "creamy" scent--which was fairly intoxicating. Surreptitiously, I wondered, how i would ever be able to manage that "in bed?" It was so "creamy," and so "velvety," with the most suave floral notes: "Sexy" would *NOT* be the word I would use. It was more....elegant I suppose. There was a distance inherent in it. I had no inclination to "Lick it up." I think the quintessential question one should pose when considering whether or not a scent is "sexy" is: Do you want to taste it in your mouth? This one, I'm afraid, would find me quite nauseated. As it turned out, I found out what it was. I never ask this question, as I find it invasive when people ask me, but finally I just came out and said: "Your perfume: Which is it?" ----OK. Ready?----- "It's Tom Ford." ME: "Black Orchid?" HER: "The black one: The one that's not in the square bottles." ME: "Black Orchid." HER: "Yes." ME: "Did you know that Tom Ford went on record publicly declaring that his intention with this scent was that it should smell like a man's crotch?" HER: "It makes sense." ME: "Really. How so?" HER: "Well, my hairdresser loves it. My decorator loves it. Every gay man I know compliments me on it." ME: "Yeah but it seems awfully creamy to me--I can't imagine it smells like a man's crotch." HER: "Maybe if her were having a tug with jergen's!" I had to burst out laughing, only because that's PRECISELY what it smelled like--knocking one out with Jergen's! Well, it seems like we all now know what Tom Ford's lube of choice is.......For me......just slightly TMI: But, he's got it going on, this tom ford: Of course virtually everything he's ever done is copied from Halston, Yves Saint Laurent, and Calvin Klein: He's a very deft visual editor and art director: A designer I would never call him. Ralph Rucci he is not. Just like Calvin Klein before him, He has been without shame in his exploitation and usage of raw sex as a selling tool, including his own: He posed naked for W, and a day just doesn't go by when we are not confronted in one way or another by his greasy hairy chest. Tom Ford is a sterling example of "Doing what you can with what you got." On the men's fragrance boards, where, you know, it's all men discussing perfume, I actually read a long drawn out thread that had countless men "confessing" that they wanted to "be" Tom Ford--even his receding hairline was discussed in depth--how to get that perfect chest hair length--why he could pull off looking like he had been rubbed down in vaseline: The whole thing was quite surreal. Personally, I find zero attraction in the Tom Ford mystique. The best thing I ever witnessed Tom Ford orchestrate was a movie, and even that, to me at least, was not all that great: This of course is *merely* my opinion.

WELCOME
MR
REASONABLE

And thank you for your thoughtful post above: We lot can use a bit of reason, that's certainly no secret! I do know what you mean concerning the now semi-defunct Wasser-zed "Chant d'Aromes," which, in its day, was a spectacularly well orchestrated and smooth scent, a very organic one, very much in the way Rube describes Jicky: There was a brilliant seamlessness to it; a very nature-based, human sort of comp. If you study the add pages that have appeared over the years of its existence, they are fascinating: Each examining the allure of different types of women: The British, the French, the Italian, even the American: My favourite was undoubtedly the French, which appeared most often, showing two women and one man, all elegantly clothed, crouched "a meme" as it would be said, on the rough cobble stones on the Quais of the Seine, at twilight: They are all smoking, and the man, looking every bit the resilient stud, is in the process of lighting his cigarette, with his crisp white shirt suggestively tie-less, a message, when considered in its time frame. The Quais of the Seine, in the area where this photo was taken, which would have been on the right bank near what was then the Gare d'Orsay, now the Museum of the same name, had a certain reputation at the time, and still do, as an hunting ground for renegade sex: Not quite as salacious as that of the Bois de Boulogne, but this choice of venue could be lost on no one who might know Paris, and know it well. In the late '60's, when the photo was taken, this area, and notably the dark lapidary underpasses of the bridges, were areas where people would meet at dusk to engage in the new "Free Love," as then it was called: Nowadays, it is more of an haunt specifically reserved for libidinous gay men. This area, all the way to the tip of the Ile de la Cite, not far off to the right of the photo, was a "hang out" for the newly liberated youth of the era: Of course, looking at the photo now, the players look a bit like our parents, though when considered in its contextual history, these people were "jeunes,' --youth-- and the whole vibe is decidedly daring. The British equivalent, shows a dewy English Rose cavorting with a gaggle of sweaty rugby players. The Italian: A young "Mama" with her husband and children. There just doesn't seem to be room in the world anymore for scents like "Chant d'Aromes," which translates as "Soft Symphony of Scents" (a "Chant" is a complicated word in French: Not at all equivalent to the english, as it is used specifically, for example, to define the song of birds, as well as many other different "songs," notably the soulful Gregorian, and not at all in the context of a "Chant" the way we would use it in English, which could potential imply something repetitive and menacing. In the French word "Chant" there is contained an element of "Soft," or "Faint," that is absent in English.) I would recommend that you try to procure a sealed bottle of the extract, which came in a lovely footed urn, encased in a grass green silk moire covered box lined in rose petal pink flock, with the flacon elegantly dressed in an olive green silk velvet ribbon. I have smelled the current EDT that is still produced, and it merely "suggests" Chant d'Aromes: It is nothing but an hazy, grainy, choppy rememberance of it, a bit like the curret EDT of "Apres l'Ondee." Anyone who remembers "Apres l'Ondee" in its extract strength will know exactly what I imply here when handed the modern EDT, which is nothing at all, just an echo. Indeed, though, "Chant d'Aromes" is a perfect example of what a truly "sexy" scent would embody: It is my theory that no major house will condone a scent such as this as it is just too subtle for our modern noses to process: I do think all of our capacities to smell are now severely impaired by the pollution and other noxious things that float about in the air we breathe to which we have become so accustomed we are not even aware. Chant d'Aromes and Ombre Rose (the original by Francoise Caron for JCB) are both the same kind of snuggly, reassuring scents that speak directly to my own theory of men, and what will "push their buttons." I believe I have already mentioned somewhere on this thread, or elsewhere, that all of male-kind secretly seek only to reconnect with babyhood, when they were so delicately and affectionately looked after by their first "love object;" their mothers. The perfect, ever shining example of this being Shalimar, which, to me, interestingly, functions beautifully in all of its incarnations, including the current "cut all costs on the juice, spend all the money on the add campaign and the bottle" one. I even quite love "Parfum Initial." I know I have said this before, but I do firmly believe that the earth has never known a perfume more attractive, more effective, than Shalimar: Not even Mr. Water himself, stamp on it as he will with his red socks, seems to be able to kill this masterpiece, which is, you all must admit, somewhat of a miracle, since all of the other classics, including Jicky, are slowly being destroyed, in order that all of we fans of them become enraptured with "Cuir Beluga," or "Angelique Noire." I have bottles of all of these in my office, and use them as air freshener: Even used in this way, they are all still somehow offensive to me. Just yesterday I blasted my environs with "Cuir Beluga," then trembled to think a molecule of it should get on my clothes: These, the fragrances that embody the Brave New World of Guerlain, are so tenacious and indelible that just the slightest dusting will permanently adhere to fabric, and no amount of washing or dry cleaning will remove them. Isn't it fascinating how we can spray through an entire 120ml refill bottle of a "Classic" Guerlain EDT, and still not get an hint of sillage 20 minutes later, yet be quite literally impaled to the death with mere molecules of these "Modern" Wasser-Waters? I have a pair of unlined Hermes driving gloves in brown calf I have had since the mid 80's: I wear them constantly, as they are fingerless and snap snugly at the wrist: They are, for intents and purposes, the perfect pair of gloves, as the wearer may text with them, the finger pads being exposed. I had the mishap of wearing them for three straight days during an outdoor music festival last year in Holland, and they had taken on quite a stench of smoke because of this. I did everything to get it out. Finally, I misted them ever so lightly with "Cuir Beluga," (having previously SOAKED them in Mouchoir de Monsieur several times over to no effect what so ever) and they now smell so distinctly of this strange bitter sweet scent that I almost can no longer wear them: I have since had them cleaned by a leather expert twice, to no avail: They seem now permanently stained. My latest attempt to "de-Wasserize" them? A light dusting of "Habanita" vintage EDT: Of course, this worked. Only now, my hands smell yet again of smoke! It's been a circus for me to save these gloves. They are now at Hermes, where they are being "reconditioned." We'll see what that gives! Rube's video above is hysterically funny: I have been to parties like that with different music, skinnier men, prettier girls and more clothes: I have also been on those tables, girating my pelvis wildly in what is called by one of my best friends "that strange interpretive dance that only you can do." The scene in the video, that looks to me like.....Miami? a culture that is foreign to me.....If you watch it, afterward, in the menu of other videos that may be examined embedded underneath, there is a sing-song British cartoon that is hysterical, which has for central theme: "Hairy Bollocks, Willy, Titties, Bum, Hairy Arse Crack, Poo Poo, Cum." You all have to watch it: It should be our "Right of Passage," to:
SEX AND THE SILLAGE

Inga, what's the Snookie Look? You had me with Adele--I need clarification. I'll bet there are more people reading these posts than we imagine, all of whom have had their "Stinky T-Shirt" moments: I've had so many, involving so many different articles of clothing, even sheets, that I daren't even begin to recount: Let all of your imaginations run wild, then consider it an "edited for content" version. I *LOVE* feeling "oozy" as you so aptly put it: I think this is why I was so enthralled with BAV as to buy out the entire world's stock: I have so much of it, that I am embarrassed to even look at it: Just when I think I have it all orderly and arranged by concentration, I find yet another e-bay box, jam-packed with another 4-10 bottles, all shrink or paper wrapped. I even bought--just last week--yet more: And now I'm paying prices I feel I created, as the vintages that I covet (Gold Box=No way. Vibrant sunflower yellow box w/medallion: Not. Dusty sunflower yellow box with no medallion: BINGO) now fetch fortunes, when, before, I could pick them up for nothing. I'm sort of "In Love" with BAV. I'm longing for it. I'm not allowing myself to even take a whiff of it before september hits, and in the interim I am awash in Jicky, MdM, both with GG belly-button kickers. I am in love with BAV the way I lusted and sniffed over dirty, forgotten panties, hosiery, scarves, moistened sheets: It's a perversion. There's just something about it. It makes me feel like a Regency Rake prowling about the Bois de Boulogne, still dripping from my last encounter, hungrily searching out another, sucking furiously on a long pipe filled with kief or hasch, then quelling the parched throat with pure spirit from a pocket flask--feeling oozy--throwing myself into the wind--all be damned. I really wonder, though, how others perceive it on me: By today's standards it is SUCH a rude, strange smell. I'll bet it explodes in bed. People had said all manner of things about it last winter when i wore it every day in massive quantities, augmented with strategically placed touches of extract: Anybody who knows BAV knows 3.5ml of extract takes you through the whole season, where I require at least 140ml of Jicky parfum to do the same. And Jicky: You know--I really do wish there were a way for me to experience it on myself. It is so utterly sunk into my very fiber that, while i can still smell it, it evokes no excitement in my own head whatsoever, where as BAV literally turns me on. Lillybelle steps up to the plate and nails the most perfect description of Jicky anyone could ever hope for in two sentences. My Novella in FD doesn't even come close to it. As for Amy Winehouse, I have news: As I understand it, she wore Habanita!!!!!! (How perfect is that?) With regard to her 'do, well, she owned that coiffure, just as she owned the cat-eye make up. It was part of her. Amy Winehouse was, and is, such a sterling example of owning your own self, having no pretenses of aspirations. I found it interesting when I discovered that she wore Habanita, as Killian Hennessey's "Back to Black," which was dedicated in no imprecise terms to her, with her approval, is really just a copy: A good one, mind you, but a copy: Very much exactly the same way "A Taste of Heaven" is a replica of "Pour un Homme." (Minus the ugly/scary/daemonic soccer player)

Who is this "Snooki" and why is she.....that way? She's so.....brown. I don't understand how she could be this strange colour and also why she would....wait let me look again.....Is she an Indian? (I mean, as in, from India?) I.....I......I don't even know how to process this picture: She's no Hollywood starlet, yet she is.....someone......Such an unfortunate choice of apparel and accessories! and the hair colour! Oh goodness I'm at a loss. I can imagine that she smells of Tiare blossom, or tuberose: or of something contrived like "Giorgio Beverly Hills." Perhaps "Spiritual Skye" Frangiapani oil?

Oh Dear! I've been to the Southern New Jersey Shore, and it's lovely: Cape May. Beautiful. Fine people, breath taking homes. Great food: Nobody looked like that. Fleurine? could you find some GORGEOUS sexy images and post them so that se might erase the memory of this.....Snookie? ALSO: I happen to know many Italian Americans, and, in their interest I must observe--none look, or dress, remotely like this unfortunate one, who.....who is just really quite unfortunate. I'm afraid I must stop my commentary immediately for fear of offending anyone. Far be it from me to launch insults at people I don't know--but I will say: Whatever "Jersey Shore" she comes from, is not the one I have visited: Granted, the shore is long, but I was always struck by how beautiful parts of it are, and how the homes, most of which are early victorian to early edwardian, and built in typical neo-greco-roman style, or else in a slightly anglofied "Merchant's Tudor" style, were all so sumptuous and beautiful. Ugh! I've to go do something to get these images out of my head. Excuse me while I pour some scotch into my tea......On the note of music, Mr. Reasonable, I fully agree. Some peek around 26-27: The Black Keys, for instance, whom I have followed since their inception, have done nothing but become more and more exciting, as illustrated by their latest "EL CAMINO," which is......thrilling. Also: Refreshing in that the Black Keys are American, when most, if not all, interesting music seems to come out systematically from the UK. That's some sexy music.

Ah, yes! the Three Graces! I very seriously can not erase this....Snookie.....from my head: So misguided! How could anyone find this so attractive that they would watch a movie on it? Obviously, I have not seen, nor heard of this movie. The thing I find the most disquieting about these two images is the strange colour of her skin! I've *never* seen an Italian have skin like this. This is obviously some sort of artificial colour she has rubbed all over herself? UGH! I've to find a way to erase this image from my brain: It's enough to do permanent damage! I adored this movie "Room with a View!" Ah! How I remember it! It was an huge success in France, as were all Merchant-Ivory productions, and wasn't it a young Helena Bonham Carter in it, along with this beautiful blond actor, Julain......someone? And the music! Of course, I have the CD soundtrack. I haven't listened to it in years but this film represents an entire era for me--a happier time, I suppose: But I must have been a young thing then--scarcely 21? It was an awfully long time ago, wasn't it? Just like the mid sixties--just around when I was born--You know, Mr. Reasonable, I think the image of the three French "Jeunes," who, to our modern eyes look so old, don't they? is actually so steamy I can hardly stand it. I know precisely where this photo was taken--a place that is known in Paris as "TaTa Beach." I just love how they're all smoking, and the gent, with his collar undone, is "lighting up." It's so......normal to me. The British one, on the other hand, doesn't do a thing for me. I suppose one must be equipped with a certain understanding of English Love: Something that has *always* escaped me as i have found the English to be no less than the very worst lovers in the world, and I have taste tested them on almost every continent, save Australia, where I have never been. My excuses go out to all of you fine folk in the UK, all hungover en masse from the Queen's gig. Every people has its attribute: Britain has so many it would be hard to list them. Unfortunately, the Arts of Sex.....most definitely not on that list, even in the low ranks....

First Prize: The French, obviously. They are peerless in the boudoir.
Second Prize: The Italians.
Third Prize: Spanish/Hispanic: Including Mexico and South America
Fourth Prize: Greeks

These here above are the "Prize Winners," the ones you never forget.

Honourable mention, the ones you sometimes forget, goes to:

The Dutch
Scandinavians in general (Except for Iceland)
Russians (but highly and intricately segregated according to many criteria too involved to explain)

In the lower ranks, the ones you most always forget:

Irish
Americans
Arabs/Near Easterners

Bottom of the Barrel, the ones that are so bad you make specific efforts to forget, but find that you can't as they are so inept: in descending order:

Germans
Canadians
English

Naturally, this is based *purely* on my own observations. I have never indulged with anyone of Asian descent, so I can't comment, though I have heard good things: You sort of must have a taste for that, though.

WELCOME ANDYLAMA

So, is that her with the curlers and the cigarette? Irony is sexy sometimes, isn't it? Me: I love the smell of headshops. I burn such a terrific amount of incense in my house that the young lady who owns my boutique of choice marvels when she sees me stumble in. I usually have her order for me in bulk, as what invariably happens is, I will find a flavour I've never tried, buy it, love it, then return to buy all she has. When I am then out of that stock, I am pounding on the bead curtain before opening asking her to order it for me: This has been a repeat scenario over the years. I also make use of pure Orthodox incense, notably Benzoin and "Shepherd's Wood" from Holy Cross: These are more difficult to burn as they require the small pastille of coal in order to keep them lit. I've always loved incense: In Paris I burn "rose" systematically, I'm not entirely sure why. In Amsterdam, it's always this one specific joss stick style called "WOODS" in a green metallic box. It is true that KOM does have this vibe to it, and it's not for as much that it suffers, isn't that right? Tell us, then, what other scents will allow you to imagine that "she" might be, in the words of the funk-loving Francois Millot II, a.k.a Jean Desprez, "Un Certain Genre de Femme"? I had a theory burst upon me just yesterday, inspired by the discussions above regarding how the nostrils burried in the centifolia of a full blown rose can not begin to compare with even the finest May Rose Attar from Grasse: It went this way. As it happened, I sat yesterday at length in a veritable jungle of jasmine, all in bloom, complete with enormous bees and other insects. I needed to inhale some fresh air. Would any of you imagine that I would not orchestrate this unusual need so that the air in question be so heavily laden with natural jasmine in bloom that i could barely breathe? I thought: This jasmine, which, of course, like the rose, in its state of reality, cannot compare with any perfume, obviously attracts these bees and insects, yet others don't give a fig about it, which phenomenon led me to begin pondering on our own choice of scent, and why we chose it: I wondered, what part of that choice is secretly dictated by whom we wish to attract? As, would a more coherent thought process, rather than, say, what attracts me, run more effectively when spun back to front, as in: "What attracts what I wish to attract?" Yes, I know: You're married and yada yada yada. Yes, I know, the others, you all wear scent for yourselves, and not your mate. If only just ONE single person would manifest here....would that be too much to ask? Just one? Would someone who is single, and active, kindly step forth?

Well, Lillybelle, I know they're out there, and reading: Perhaps they're afraid to comment, as, being single, they may then be held accountable for their thoughts? How about we add "Brave" to the mix, since we're at it? Here's the add:

WANTED: FOR SEX AND THE SILLAGE. SINGLE. ACTIVE. BRAVE. MALE, FEMALE, OR GNS. FOR A GOOD TIME, HIT THE FUCKING REPLY BUTTON, DAMN IT!

That aside, I think we might glean what would attract whom by the power of inference: Knowing what we want, we can intuit what they might like. I gave in today and doused myself in BAV. I was determined to not inhale a molecule of it before September hit. My first impression: YUM! I SMELL LIKE A SKANK! followed by my nose being glued to my wrist for the next few hours. So, here I am, making a steady diet of Jicky parfum de toilette in the summer, Mouchoir de Monsieur in the autumn, now both augmented with the vintage Burt Reynolds era Givenchy Gentleman Belly-Button Blast--and both doing very well with it--and vintage Bal a Versailles all winter long, this winter, I would imagine, making its debut soured down a bit with yet more vintage Givenchy Gentleman in the nether regions. What do all of these have in common? CIVET. What does civet smell like? Genitals. Who finds genitals attractive? Sex-positive people: You see? that was easy. I have no patience for the "Sainte Ni-touche" variety of partner who wont let loose. I hate that. If you're going to get kissed by me, your lips better be ready for a workout. It's just the way I function. Furthermore, I have no attraction to the aspirational sorts, who crave money and "class" as they invariably call it: Thus, my aversion to these "Good Life" type scents that evoke the menu of Ferraris in the six car garage. I know myself well enough to know in advance that if I am to engage fluently, my partner must be "ready," and not some quivering, complexed, paranoid wallflower with issues. Have I not chosen my scents perfectly, without even knowing it? What could be more perfect? Now, of course, I could take this further: Suppose, for an instant, I were some renegade hors-la-loi, the way i sometimes am in my fantasies: An orgy-hopping, pill-popping, smokin'hooligan. Maybe then I would be wearing "Muscs Kublai-Kahn" with "Secretions Magnifiques" in the belly button blast: That would sure keep the blushing violets at bay, wouldn't it? On the other end of the spectrum: I could cut my hair, shave, lift some weights, do about three million deep knee bends, go to Ralph Lauren and buy half a new wardrobe, then get the other half at "Faconable," get a tan, buy a taupe BMW SUV, re-decorate my house, (inside and out) then, after doing all that, perhaps go buy a bottle of Paco Rabanne Pour Homme, and watch as all the bleached blondes wearing Tori Burch come running in their flats. It's an interesting idea. We should all give it some thought.

I was just about to do a bit of research on the Crystal Palace of London, which exploded in flames and fell to the ground in ash as an omen to the sinister goings on during the very short reign of King Edward of England: I am deeply engrossed in this marvelous account of Wallis Windsor and all of it's "latest revelations," missing as I did the film W.E., which I wanted so desperately to see, yet didn't, because three cinema-buff friends one after the next rejected it due to the involvement of Madonna, an element that still escapes me, but now makes better sense, if, and only if, for example, I imagine that the film W.E. had been produced and directed by Snookie: Now I understand. Of course, all of you are hellbent on torturing me with this: I ask you: Who tans? I freely admit that, being a child of the 80's, the very idea of a tan is so foreign to me that I can't even begin to imagine encouraging it: We 80's people systematically walk on the shady side of the street and slather ourselves in sunscreen now just the way we did in the 80's with "Blanc de Chanel," when the intent was to embody the look of a black and white photo that had been aquatinted, a style move recently revisited by the latest vampire epic starring the brunette fellow who was in Edward Scissorhands and is now the poster boy for this sort of goth costume drama. Is Snookie the new Coco Chanel, who, descending the "train bleu" from Deauville in the mid 20's astounded everyone with her skin flagrantly burnt to a uniform shade of roast-beef medium-well, except that, rather than delicately stepping off the train at, say, the Gare d'Orsay, Snookie is jumping off the F-line subway at Carroll Gardens to saunter down Atlantic Avenue with hot pink sparkly ear-buds in while all the greasy mechanics and jack-hammer wielding construction workers whistle at her? It's faced with phenomena such as this that allows the distinctly middle aged to feel superiour on all fronts. I examined this add that Rube posted and imagined that Philadelphia/New Jersey twang: yoo can be ah liddle nwoooahdy! Somehow, when it's not asking me how I'd like my clams, and how many, or if I'd like olive oil on my Hoagie, it's just not as charming......Ah, Dr. Red! You're taking delight in my horror! Fleurine! Help! Please find some other delightful image and slap it up--We'eve to fight back! maybe some spectacular painting by John Singer Sargent? Or the Cindy Palmano original 1991 video for Tori Amos doing "Silent All These Years" (the one with the wood box and "the nasty dress")

All the while trying to convince my inner Dog, now riled up and growling at the mere mention of the word "Cat," and insisting to it that "Cat" has other meanings, I thank you. But poor Kirsten Dunst! How could make-up artists, hairdressers, and photographers, all clearly on various substances, take something so delicious and turn it into something so contrived? I've never seen that add for Bulgari--nor have i heard of that perfume--"Mon Jasmin Noir"--"My Black Jasmin." Sounds somewhat promising, doesn't it? But the visuals! Why won't the media understand that slapping on a kilo of make-up and hair product then going nuts in photoshop doesn't make a good thing better, ESPECIALLY when that good thing happens to be the ever-winning Kirsten Dunst, who's mere image, last night, rocked me to sleep like a lullaby. Why am I in such adoration over her? The picture Rube took just says it all for me: I would want that one plastered up on the ceiling over my lonely bed. I would want certain stills from "Marie-Antoinette," like the one where she's in the bath tub at the very beginning, with the spray of feathers in her hair, printed on the backs of my sunglasses so that i could just look at it all the time. Hmmmmm. I'm going to see if I can get a whiff of this "Mon Jasmin Noir" today: Will report back. Contained within: Jasmin + Essence of Kirsten Dunst. It's GOT to be good......

OH. MY. GOD. Fleurine, you're killing me. You're all killing me. What horrific pictures! It is true that poor Tori is now somewhat of a train wreck--as proven by her ridiculous last CD--very unfortunately released precisely at the same time as Florence Welch's mind altering "Ceremonials." The original "Silent All These Years" video is easy to find: I found it on you tube--Just typed in "Tori Amos Silent All These Years Video." --granted, there were some choices--but the actual video is the one where she first appears in a cobalt blue chiffon top sitting at a derelict upright piano and ultimately is shown tumbling about in a wooden box. This video, art directed by Cindy Palmano, was so groundbreaking in the early 90's in Paris: Nobody had ever looked like that, dressed like that, sung like that--no video ever looked like that--Overnight, fashion changed: She appears in this set of chiffon separates, chiffon pants, which then become shorts, which she wears with these ridiculous Vivienne Westwood boots--and at one point appears in the strangest "Waitress" dress, with an odd red tulle underskirt: All of it was so original: Interestingly, she appears throughout to be wearing no make up whatsoever save for some hot pink lipstick. The whole effect was groundbreaking in every way--viewed today--it still looks fresh: "The Tori Look" was really only ever seen on the paris catwalks and in the editorials of Italian Vogue and paris Vogue--but the thing that made it memorable, for me, was how sexy it was: With this video she re-defined what a girl should look like--and launched early 90's glamour-grunge in so doing--the interesting bit was that she was grunge--but she wasn't: In the Cindy Palmano video for "Crucify" she appears sitting at her piano in a bias cut washed silk TEAL halter-top jumpsuit, and lemon yellow manolo blahnik satin strappy girly-girl shoes: Nobody did that then--No jewelry. No make-up. Just this unbelievably beautiful silk jumpsuit-- (who ever heard of a jumpsuit in 1991?) with satin heels: But so much talent. So much sex appeal. We were all speechless. Nobody could get over her in Paris. Nobody. Interestingly, nobody would touch her in the US which ultimately led to the seminal "Little Earthquakes" being an entirely British production--she was an HUGE star in europe--and nobody knew who she was in the states, until finally some article, I think it was in Cosmopolitan--brought up the fact that she was the washed up, one-hit wonder singer from "Y Kant Tori Read?" -a metal band out of Los Angeles- who had had one success, a song called "Cool Upon Your Island," I think it was: I never knew because I wasn't familiar with her in her previous incarnation as a metal hair band singer, as die-hard metal was not a "thing" in France in those years: It took Nirvana awhile to wake that scene up. The French never do go in for metal, at least not in the way they do here. At any rate: I do hope Kirsten Dunst does not end up looking, as you say, "like a troll." I was today looking at an old issue of W--old by a few months--where Nicole Kidman is featured in the editorial--and she looks like a fake doll. Of course, it's W--the American Rag forever trying to be Italian Vogue, and never, ever making it.