This used to be my signature scent when I first started college. Even though I don't wear it anymore, my best friend says this scent always reminds her of me when she smells it on someone out in public. When I used to wear this, I got a lot of sillage out of it, and it used to cling to all my clothing and bedsheets. It's a very lovely, powdery-floral-clean scent that reminds me of white sheets hanging in a garden. It was way too angelic and simple to ever really suit me, but I wore it because the scent was so pleasant, and because during the early college years I didn't have access to fancy, unusual high-end fragrances. White Musk is reasonably priced, but it doesn't smell cheap, so it's a very good starter fragrance.
Fragrances -Revlon - Jean Nate After Bath Splash original scent
AntFarm 10/2/2010 9:46:00 AM
This review is for Petite Nate, which came out in the '80s. It was my first perfume, purchased for me by my aunt from a local general store. It came in a pink box with little hearts on it, and the perfume itself was about 5ml in a glass tube with a sponge applicator (kind of like clear liquid glue) and a pink lid. There was glitter in the perfume, but thankfully, it didn't come out on your skin. It had a very delicate, innocent smell to it (like a My Little Pony, but not exactly), but it still had that element of freshness like the original body splash. It was tiny enough for me to put in a little play-purse, or in my bookbag at school. I liked this so much when I was little, that I used to obsessively dab the applicator all over everywhere I could reach, including my whole entire arms from shoulder to wrist. Needless to say, the little bottles never lasted that long. The commercial went: ""Petite Nate! For bath time, for fun time/Just for you it's a dream come true, Petite Nate." Oh, how I miss it.
Fragrances -Unlisted Brand - Auric Blends Egyptian Goddess
AntFarm 10/1/2010 9:58:00 PM
This was the scent I pretty much wore exclusively my first five post-college years, right when I was trying to find a career, and forge my place in the "real world." It's probably the most intoxicating thing I've ever smelled, despite having smelled over a hundred different fragrances, from drugstore to niche. It is so smooth and rich--subtantial while at the same time having a very light sillage that only my closest friends noticed. It smells nothing like food, flowers, a skin scent, spice, aldehydes, or any kind of fragrance category--it's not easily defined. I felt like it was very "me" in terms of personality as well: soft-spoken yet distinctive, inviting yet reserved, modest yet sensual, feminine yet not girlie, and mysterious without being pretentious. When I wore it, people would always tell me how nice my "shampoo" smelled, or they'd think it was just how I smelled without any perfume on at all. But all good things come to an end, and around 2008 I started smelling Egyptian Musk and Egyptian Goddess nearly every place I went, wherever I worked. People then started to notice I was wearing something, because they smelled it on other people, and the scent was no longer something that reminded them of me. And now, in present day, I am a total perfume addict, still looking for that "me" smell, but hopefully one that stays pretty obscure.
A cheap-smelling perfume which would be smashingly sexy on a woman in a very elegant dress with elbow-gloves. Supposedly this was a favorite of Ava Gardner, and I could imagine her pulling this off very well. People probably asked her what beautiful fragrance she was wearing all the time. As for a down-to-earth woman like myself who doesn't wake up wearing make-up, and sometimes has to clean up cat throw-up, I don't think this has the same quality. Tabu Dana puts the "ass" in "class." It takes a bombshell to pull this off.
Don't let the name fool you. Melograno means "pomegranate" in English, but this smells nothing like pomegranates in any way, shape, form, or even concept. This is straight powder. It's for ladies who like a little powder with their powder. It's not soft, it's kind of a classy, sharp-tongued powder. It reminds me of the powdery scent of a Cabbage Patch Kid who has grown up into a woman who smokes cigars on the veranda. Her Gatsby-esque lovers often wonder...who is this Xavier Roberts?
The first time I tried this, I think it may have been a vintage sample, or perhaps the parfum, because it was beautiful. It started off harsh, bitter, and overly "perfumey", but it faded within fifteen minutes into a soft, milky floral. It made me think of delicate, pure-white rose petals falling and floating gracefully into a bowl of milk, like some sort of Jergens commercial. With high expectations, I ended up buying the reformulated EDP, and it was a completely different dame. This mean lady beat me with her purse and sprayed mace in my eyes. It never progressed beyond the harsh, bitter, headache-inducing opening, and did not smell natural, milky, or floral like my original meeting with Miss Chamade. Will the first Miss Chamade please stand up?
I was all set to love this. Firstly, it's a Guerlain. Secondly, the bottle is strikingly beautiful, and the name reminds me of a Howard Hughes movie (only if Howard Hughes was French). However, this is one of those Guerlains that doesn't develop on me. It smelled exactly as aldehydic and synthetic on my skin after hours of wear as it did straight from the sample...pretty much as if I rubbed fancy nail polish remover on my skin. Also it gave me a bit of a rash. So sad!
I was in Sephora with my sister, and I happened to smell this on the strip and I said, "Oooh", so I sprayed some on. As a lover of both fig and iris, I was very pleased. It was very dry and figgy without much iris, but with just enough iris to keep the fig from smelling like something from Yankee Candle or Bath and Body Works. It's an uber-light scent that doesn't last long, but for the time that it sticks around, it is incredibly pleasant and refreshing. When wearing it, it has this airy quality that smells more like you've dried your clothes with fig-scented dryer sheets, than the aura of a perfume that's been sprayed directly on. Someday I hope to acquire a bottle of this, but I don't think I'd actually buy it, due to poor staying power.
This is for the oil: The first time I tried this, I was blown away because it smelled just how Luckyscent described it--as a dark fragrance fit for a femme fatale. I kept feeling that nothing I had in my closet was sexy and vampish enough to wear along with this fragrance. As it progressed though, the patchouli crept into the forefront with its drum circle getting louder and louder, and thus this oil made the most unfortunate transition from Barbara Stanwyck to Janis Joplin (not that there's anything wrong with Janis--love her too). I'd probably still try this again to see if maybe my chemistry could ever befriend Geisha Noir (pleeeeease!).
As it has been said a bazillion times before, this really does smell like clean dryer sheets. The smell of dryer sheets always brings back happy memories of being a child and sniffing the smoke that came out of the dryers in public laundry rooms. I swapped this away a while back, I think, because it wasn't really complicated enough to keep my attention. But now on days when I wake up not feeling so great, and not up to the challenge of wearing a "perfume", I kind of wish I had Warm Cotton by my side. It's also reasonably priced, and not as squeaky-soapy-astringently clean as other Clean fragrances. Also, it does not smell like a perfume, and it doesn't have that weird screechy aquatic note that so many "l'eau" and "antiperfumes" seem to have. Thumbs up. I miss you Warm Cotton!
This scent isn't for me, personally, but I associate it with my classy, kindhearted, red-haired Southern grandmother who passed away several years ago. This is what she wore when she sat me on her lap when I was a wee girl. Recently, I bought a bottle of this for my own mother, because I knew it would remind her of her mom. My mom is allergic to perfume, but she does wear this one because it's so mild. I bought her the EDC version, and I'd buy it for her anytime again. I wouldn't wear this, because my memories are so strongly associated with the women of my family who raised me, and it remains "their" scent when they pass through my memories.
I was absolutely intrigued by the reviews, and by the fact that this is a historical Guerlain, so naturally I had to try this. I really wish this worked for me, but after multiple wears from a sample, it just never did. I think the sample was EDP. On my skin it smelled the exact same way as it did in liquid form, with no development whatsoever. It actually made my nose hurt a little because it smelled like toxic cedar chips sprayed with pesticides. There was no peach, or any other notes to be found. I felt like I was trying to hotwire a broken down vehicle because I knew it had the potential to work at some point for someone, but just not for me.
Parfum: This isn't nearly as strong as the EDT or EDP, and I like it most out of all the formulations. It smells like forests and saliva. It reminds me of camping, or taking a dog for a walk in the woods and having it lick you. I wouldn't buy a bottle though, because it's so faint. EDP: This was so, so strong. It smelled like men's hygiene products with something breathy and animalic in the background. Then I realized, this is how a woman would smell if she was necking with some sophisticated gentlemen. It has a worn-in, adrogynous sexiness, that's for sure. But it's the same kind of sexiness as wearing your boyfriend's t-shirt to sleep in. I get and admire its appeal, but it's just not my kind of appeal.
I was enamored with this--I think simply for novelty value, and because I like Tilda Swinton. It smelled unlike anything else I've ever tried, and was very vegetal and sweet like some kind of exotic gourd that can only be found at Korean markets, so I bought a full bottle. The bottle is really creative too--it looks like a little firecracker with a red tube atomizer, and a fireburst on the label. However, after owning a bottle, I had to swap it away because all I can smell after the interesting opening is the syrupy immortelle drydown, and it makes me kind of ill. It reminds me of being forced to inhale Mrs. Butterworth's syrup in a completely orange room while getting pelted with persimmons.
Yawn. Another "dark" rose with patchouli and oud, that smells very little like roses. Double yawn.