More limited edition collector fragrance bottles, with the usual disclaimers: in most of these cases, the juice is unchanged, just the bottle is “special” (or not, as the case may be), and some of these may not be available in the US.
From Tom Ford, a limited edition sea-blue bottle of Neroli Portofino…
Thierry Mugler A*Men begat A*Men Pure Coffee, A*Men Pure Malt and, now, the new, limited edition A*Men Pure Havane. Though I dislike original A*Men, I’ve enjoyed all A*Men “Pure” offspring (flankers) so far, and I was especially looking forward to Pure Havane’s homage to “prestige cigars.” I walked into my local Nordstrom men’s fragrance department, asked for Pure Havane, and was told by the sales person only eight bottles had been received, and they had sold out within days. (“Good! It must be nice!” I thought.) Then, the sales person said: “You know…it smells a lot like Pure Malt to me…which smelled a lot like Pure Coffee.”
The “Pure” flankers have been successful for Thierry Mugler, but instead of putting these popular scents in the fragrance line-up permanently, the company “freshens” the Pure brand each year by folding a new note into a non-changing base formula. Perhaps fans of the Pure fragrances regard the line as one scent, with a different “flourish” each year. Think of it this way: you love a restaurant’s roasted tomato soup. You order the soup every time you visit the restaurant…
Thierry Mugler has launched two new limited edition summer flankers for women, Alien Sunessence Or d’Ambre and Angel Sunessence Ocean d’Argent…
Thierry Mugler will launch A*Men Pure Havane, a new limited edition fragrance for men inspired by prestige cigars. A*Men Pure Havane is a flanker to 1997’s A*Men, and follows two recent variations on the “Pure” theme…
Smell is the most associative sense. For years, they have dyed both men’s colognes and sports drinks like Gatorade the exact shade of blue of the absorbing liquid in maxi pad commercials and nobody seems bothered by this, except me — and, well, maybe now you as well. Something I never overhear: “I can’t listen to Bartók anymore, because John Bonham of Led Zeppelin has ruined me for timpani.” Yet every scent enthusiast is familiar with the type of scenario where you apply careful dabs of your most cherished new sample and you are snuffling away at the baptized spot on the back of your hand, squinting and considering every facet, when your spouse breezes in and announces casually: “It smells like Lifebuoy soap in here.” And you are NEVER ABLE TO WEAR IT AGAIN. The band-aid aspect of fragrances with black pepper, the ham in lily soliflores, a whiff of Creamsicle wherever and whenever it is found: once smelled, it haunts you forever.
Perhaps no note in perfumery has suffered more for its associations than mint. The cost of our modern obsession with smelling fresh has been that there are some of us who regularly wear fragrances that evoke the burnt dust of a blown computer CPU, but refuse to wear minty scents on the grounds that we are reminded of toothpaste, mouthwash and chewing gum…