A long time ago, I read a novel that I’ve mostly forgotten now, except for a minor character, a woman named Lloyd. The one detail I remember about Lloyd — a detail even more chic than her name — is that all the accessories in her purse were made of green leather. Her wallet, coin purse, cosmetics pouch, sleeve for her comb — all soft green leather. I think Lloyd would have worn Aftelier Cuir de Gardenia.
Cuir de Gardenia’s notes are simple…
When people find out about my interest in perfume, sometimes they lean in and say knowingly, “Perfume smells different on different people.” It seems to be the one fact about fragrance that they know.
Last night I went to a coffee “cupping.” A cupping is where you experience the full profile of a coffee bean by pouring hot water over the grounds, breaking its “crust,” smelling it, and eventually doing a lot of embarrassing slurping to mix air with the coffee and spread it over the tongue. When the host asked us what we tasted, answers came from all over the board: cherries, pecan pie filling, tobacco. All for the same coffee.
What’s going on? Why does a spritz of the same perfume smell different on my friend, Meredith, than it does on me or her husband? For that matter, why does the perfume smell different on me on different days?
I’m not a scientist, so I can’t give any hard answers. But over the years, I’ve done some speculating, and here’s what I’ve come up with…
Every so often I sample a fragrance that has been wildly praised, and I wonder, What’s the big deal? I try it again, maybe this time applied more lightly or more heavily. I spritz it in the morning and last thing at night. I second guess myself. After all, I tell myself, whatever the fragrance might be, Victoria at Bois de Jasmin or Denyse at Grain de Musc or pretty much every MakeupAlley reviewer loved it. What’s wrong with me?
This is what I ran into with Amouage Fate Woman. In Saudi Arabia Style.com, Luca Turin deemed it a “celestial oriental” and awarded it five stars for “masterpiece.” I adore Turin’s reviews. I respect his experience and discernment, and I love his writing. But I’m not going to lie to you. My response after finishing my sample spray vial is that Fate Woman is — well — fine, but really not my thing…
It’s easy to mistakenly pigeonhole violet. When I think of violet, my thoughts first go to retro rose-violet concoctions like Frédéric Malle Lipstick Rose or violet as sweet as the candied flowers on Viennese pastries. Really, though, violet can be dark and moody, especially when paired with its leaves (think of the knowing earthiness of Jean Patou 1000) or even elegantly futuristic (like Comme des Garçons + Stephen Jones‘s waft of a flying saucer crashed into a bed of violets).
Then, of course, there’s the classic gentleman’s violet as found in British shaving creams and old-fashioned colognes. Mona di Orio Violette Fumée Eau de Parfum Intense is a gentleman’s violet, but for the modern gentleman (or lady) whose desk is topped not by fountain pens but a MacBook Pro, and whose evening tipple is more likely to be small batch bourbon from Brooklyn than a Scotch whisky and soda…
A few weeks ago I wrote about my visit to the Italian Embassy in Paris for the launch of Memo Italian Leather. Now for the rest of the story.
In the embassy’s Grand Salon, the brand owner, Clara Molloy, and perfumer, Aliénor Massenet, sat on yellow silk upholstered armchairs near the marble fireplace, forming part of an intimate clutch of armchairs encircling a coffee table. The scent of coffee drifted from a table near one wall. We also smelled, of course, a trace of delicious perfume.
Molloy was open and cheerful, with Snow White pale skin and dark hair. I immediately wanted to be her friend. As I already wrote, she led us on a tour of that wing of the embassy (I’m still trying to figure out how I can incorporate the dreamy lagoon-like colors of the library into my own house) before settling again in the Grand Salon. With French beauty editors.
Yes, French beauty editors…