Sweet pea? This is not like any sweet pea I've ever smelled--and more importantly, not like any sweet pea fragrance product I've tried. Or really--and most importantly of all--this is not like any fragrance I have ever smelled ANYWHERE, of any kind, period. Please forgive me for my awkward phrases. They are shabby and clumsy, for it is very hard for one to choose apt words and to construct clear sentences when one is high. Intoxicated. By this perfume. What do you say when you have just have your mind blown? "Five Lippies and Yes I Promise I Will Buy This Product Again?" In the simplest terms, this fragrance is a very powdery floral. Quite unexpectly, it has become one of my very very favorite perfumes of all time. I say unexpectedly because I am not a big fan of sweet pea, nor am I devotee of powder scents-- and most of all because I've already explored the Caron haystack extensively and systematically, found plenty of needles, and just didn't think there could BE any more in those last remaining wisps of hay. But there it was. A BiG needle: My Pois De Senteur. And unlike most of my Big Favorites (speaking generally, not just of Caron), I loved it instantly. For it is just so perfect. Like most Caron extraits, a small drop planted on each wrist quickly grows into a lovely, living-and-breathing fragrance that blooms on the skin. The dominating characteristic of Pois de Senteur is its powdery nature which is quite sweet, but a balanced sweetness such as from sweet flowers (instead of a cloying sugar-sweetness). It is a lovely, powdery bouquet. Some of the various flower notes stand out at times, as if you had put your nose up to sniff one flower out of the bunch. After several hours of wear, the fragrance begins to break down and that prevailing powderiness finally fades, the rose becomes very clear and beautiful, singing quietly with the rest of the flowers. Lily of the Valley. Sweet Pea. Hyacinth? (or something like it) Glorious. In closing: I feel that my words fail. It is hard to explain what makes this perfume different from everything else--it just IS. Pois de Senteur is a very feminine scent that has been very much overlooked! Of course, some will think it too powdery, but I predict that many of you who try it will realize that it is a real treasure.
What I learned from Alpona: If you stick too closely to your little list of favorite notes, you just might miss some of your best-ever fragrances. I never got around to trying this particular Caron because it was billed as a citrus frag--and a grapefruit one at that. I don't hate citrus, but I have about 0 interest in it as leading player in my fragrances. I only bothered to try Alpona because when it comes to Caron, I am a completist. Well. Guess what? Hello, Lemming!! Another reviewer says that she'll refrain from listing notes, and I can see her point. This is an exceedingly well-crafted fragrance that is all about synergy and magical sums which are higher than the apparent totals of their parts. It is rich, sophisticated, alluring--as are many Caron extraits. What makes this one special is that gentle, soft BITE. It latches right on to you and you might not even know that it GOT you. I think it's the grapefruit. But this fragrance is so perfectly balanced that you aren't aware of any one note (or at least, *I* am not), they all work together to form some new and different accord, as if it were some new kind of fruit or spice, one that is very warm and glowing. Even the moss is in check, and Alpona is a chypre that comes off as sophisticated and inviting at the same time.Just beautiful.
Like so many Caron Urn scents, En Avion is rich and lush, and has a very special way of blending on the skin. One or two tiny magical drops upon the wrists, and soon your entire body is wrapped in soft warmth, evenly coated with a thin film of fragrance. It is as solidly present as a garment. Yet very personal--it stays close to the skin, and doesn't send out a large trail of sillage. This scent is supremely well-blended. At times, I can't make out the individual notes, except for the resin, which hums continually in low tones, with a slightly smoke-tinged alto voice. Other times I DO make out the other players, as they come forward to sing their parts: violet, neroli, jasmine, carnation, rose. These flowers are frequently used in Caron's fragrances in various combinations; this must be why En Avion is different-yet-so-familiar. A very beautiful and well-crafted scent. Love it.
This a definite love-it-or-hate-it scent. In fact, I loved or hated it myself the first few times I tried it. Never having tried Ce Soir Ou Jamais, I enjoyed --loved, even--the complete novelty of the wine note. Unfortunately, this wore off immediately. The novelty, I mean! Not the wine note, itself. That remained. Furthermore, as soon as the scent began to develop, I felt that it picked up a certain "department store" quality to it that grew more intense. Hatred is not a word that I toss around lightly. Believe me when I tell you that I found KORS detestable. Hated it. But my tastes are continually expanding and changing. One day I will probably begin to embrace toe jam as a perfume note. As it is, many barriers have fallen, many "don't like" notes have been moved to the "love it" column. And now the time has come to sniff KORS again, and to be sure to smell it with an open mind. For what is this? A kind of anti-snob snobbery, a slavery to independence that causes me to swoon over perfumes with ink notes in them (CdG), or crab (Eau d'Hiver) or rubber tires (Bvlgari) or even ball sweat (Kingdom) but has me "repulsed" by Department-Store-Perfume smell? That's silly. So here we are now, two years later, and I am trying KORS again, because I am all about second chances. *shazam*! Loved it! That was Saturday. I liked it so much that I had to wear it again today! Of course we do not hold KORS to the same standards as Caron or Lutens. We do not have the same expectations. So I give it 5 Lippies. It's not for summer, but it works very nicely in the fall weather--it smells golden in the cool air. I am not sure what the official notes are besides the wine. To me it smells primarily like pomegranate, and a rather synthetic-smelling rose. It is NOT interchangeable with the Annick Goutal, which has a completely different spirit (debauchery, if you must know). KORS is a more sociable, elegant wine drinker who keeps her clothes on.
This is a FABULOUS vetiver; right up there with Malle's Vetiver Extraordinaire, and similarly unisex. On me this scent is 100% gender neutral. The vetiver used in Isfahan is just first rate: so dry and yet so deep and rich! It has a mossy feel. This product opens with lime and bergamot--I think I smell orange, too, but that could just be synergy between the lime and bergamot--and these topnotes remain in the fragrance for a very long time, providing a perfect counterpoint to the vetiver, and lending the fragrance a slight effervescence thst I don't believe I've ever encountered in a vetiver scent. Eureka! a brilliant idea! At least from where I sit, which is in a part of the world that will reach 113 degrees today! For Isfahan is very refreshing and cooling. I'm not a citrus fan, but the citrus notes in this fragrance are so appealing when juxtaposed with the vetiver. The lime particularly has a nice tart "tang" with just a bit of sweetness; it is perfectly placed. A hint of pepper becomes apparent after a while. It is clear but quiet and rounds the scent out very nicely. Just as drinks that aren't sweet, drinks with a "bite" ...... can be the most quenching, this vetiver brew really hits the spot on a hot day in the desert.
When it comes to high quality, complex fragrances, I'm a slow learner. I'd love to be able to sample a small spritz or splash, inhale discreetly, and a few minutes later confidently announce all the notes, from top to base, as well as my assessment on how they work together on me (or don't). But I am what I am, and I now accept the fact that I am unable to sort out the notes in some of the best fragrances, as well as how I feel about them, without spastically bringing my wrist up to my nose a few hundred times or so, and under differing weather, hormonal, and mood conditions as well--not to mention varying tidal and prime rate conditions. I am capable of appreciating the GREAT scents just as deeply and truly as the clever-nosed people. I just have to study a lot harder than they do. N'Aimez Que Moi is a perfect example of this. I rec'v'd a sample from one of the kindest, most thoughtful MUAers I've ever met. It arrived (as part of a wonderful goodie box!)just in time for Mothers Day, and only now am I "getting it" with this scent. One thing that was impossible for me to miss, even the first time I tried it: N'Aimez Que Moi = Intense Chypre. In fact, I was so startled by this fact that, other than noting the obvious presence of violet, I was unable to make any further observations. If you knew me, you wouldn't be too surprised at this; chypres do tend to overwhelm my senses. I embrace chypres as I do all the perfume families, but they are challenging to me. Sometimes I have to work a little harder to understand and enjoy them, just as I have to try a little harder to enjoy certain types of people who are louder than I am, or have a more abrasive style of humor. Such efforts have occasionally been rewarded by the discovry of a tender and noble heart within. Eventually I not only find room in my heart for a chypre, but will go through spells where I crave it desperately, with feelings more potent than when I crave a scent from one of the other fragrance families. Classic chypres are often rejected by women of today. "Old ladyish" and "musty" are common complaints. Not from me. Generally I find chypres to be ultra modern... timelessly "edgy". A chypre is yin-and-yang whirlwind in a bottle; a cold, emotionally-detached assertive type of uber-competence co-existing with the overtly sexual. It sends a clear message of power and confidence. Of course that rubs some people the wrong way. Of course. That's why it takes a certain kind of woman to wear a chypre every day. As for me, I wear chypres as the mood strikes, of course, and also whenever I have a situation where I wish to give an impression of strength and confidence which includes not caring about rubbing someone the wrong way. This can backfire: sometimes while exuding the chypre's power, I, the wearer, fall victim to it myself. N'Aimez Que Moi seemed only a non-distinguished slurry to me at first. After a few tries I was able to appreciate it for what it is: an excellent classic bold chypre, lightly sweetened and rounded out by violet and a touch of lilac. As the fragrance dries down, rose becomes more prominent. Over time it softens just a bit, and lends an ever-so-slightly powdery touch to the woody/mossy base. (It is that classic Caron style of rose which is recognizable from other scents such as Or Et Noir, Bellodgia, or Caron Rose. ) This is a very well-balanced scent. Violet is a note that Caron does epsecially well and has showcased beautifully in a variety of settings (see Aimez Moi, French Cancan, Violette Preciouse)
On me, this scent smells rather like the very assertive Balmain de Balmain. Balmain de Balmain is a 5, though, because while it is just one very ballsy perfume (forgive me but that really IS the right word), it is also refined. It exudes class and purposefulness. That's why it's such a great suit-scent. Orient Extreme has a similar scent but is not so well-blended. The result is unpleasant. It lacks refinement and control. It exudes "boss-lady-with-PMS". It's a thin line between love and hate, between class and crass..
This is a fragrance that I love so very much that I have felt uncomfortable writing a review of it. Any words I put together just seem so.... foolish and poor ... in the presence of this great perfume. I am only here now because I feel I must bear witness, I must tell others. Cuir Mauresque is strong, potent, rich leather, accented with flowers that are perfectly blended and balanced. The result is strange and unique--compelling, and beautiful. To be honest, I didn't love it at first sniff. Partly because I was new to this type of fragrance and partly because it's just so different. I will always remember that first time I wore it: how I thought that I didn't like it, but yet I couldn't stop sniffing at it. The next morning, though, I HAD to wear it, I was in love! And I still am. A love for such a powerful, substantial scent as Cuir Mauresque is not going to be a fleeting sort of love. I've never smelled a finer leather scent, not anywhere. One of my all-time favrite perfumes of any type.
Fragrances -Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier Perfumes - Fleur D'Iris
Suzy_Queue 4/6/2005 11:21:00 AM
Ah, iris. The hardest-working flower in the perfume business. For me, it all started at FM Iris Poudre and IPF Aqua Chiara. It took awhile, but it finally happened. Since acquiring a deep-rooted (ha ha! "rooted"!) appreciation and an overwhelming fondness for iris/orris--as well as acquiring a big sample pack from one of my favorite online perfume sellers-- I have been trying iris fragrances right and left. THIS little baby, this Fleur D'Iris, is great! Iris, so often a key supporting player in other fragrances really SHINES here. As mentioned below, Fleur d'Iris has both flower and root. It's fabulous: crisp, fresh like the morning dew and yet dry. Tangy-sweet, and quite powdery, in the most natural sort of way. Long-lasting, simultaneously refreshing and elegant.
Chemistry is such a strange thing! This scent does not work with my chemistry at all. In fact, I was surprised as heck to read about the notes it contains that other reviewers are experiencing, for I do not smell a single one of them. Sophisticated? On my skin, this fragrance is no more sophisticated than *I* was in seventh grade. For it smells VERY much like a combination of the Love's Baby Soft and Jovan Musk that I loved so much at that time. Artificial and a bit cloying. I keep re-trying just to make sure, for the first time I tried it, I was in labor, and though perhaps hormones were ruining the perfume's effect, or contractions were skewing my perception. But yup, every time since, I get the same results. Dang my chemistry!
I am not fond of light or watery fragrances, because with my lizard-like metabolism (Cold hands, warm heart--that's me!), they tend to smell like NOTHING. That's why I waited so long to try Eau d'Hiver, even though I am a big Malle fan, and even though I adore the rather watery En Passant, and even somewhat like the EXTREMELY watery Angeliques Sous La Plouie, even though it smells mostly like NOTHING with a hint of angeliques added to it. I have just this day finally tried Eau d'Hiver, and I'm impressed and amazed. This is going to be a fun one to get to know. It's so light, so barren, wintery and WHITE! Yet it's 4 feet deep! How can something so thin be so complex? How did they do it? I'm truly astounded. Others have mentioned the notes already, but I can't pass up the opportunity to rave about them myself. It opened with a muted bergamot tinged with angelique. Then the heliotrope note came to bloom. I have never liked heliotrope before, but in this scent, it is so soft... It is a big part of the winteriness. The heliotrope is blended with iris (which I'm not usually crazy about as a note, either), which is the perfect foil to keep the heliotrope from getting too rich and foody. The iris also lends a coldness to Eau d'Hiver. After awhile, lightly honeyed violet emerged. As time went by, a subtle caramel also was present. The entire time, the perfume remained muted and soft, very much a skin scent, and yet not SO quiet that I needed to press my nose to my wrist to detect. Every so often it would "waft" up to me on tiptoes. It had decent staying power, too. I really dislike caramel and honey fragrances, but these notes are used to genius effect in Eau d'Hiver. Brilliant. Love the way the notes pass like clouds and re-blend together. I am looking forward to getting to know this fragrance better. Fortunately I have a whole 1/8 oz instead of just a sample vial!
Fragrances -Hermes - Poivre Samarcande (Hermessence series)
Suzy_Queue 2/6/2005 9:21:00 AM
I am absolutely SURE I would love this stuff....but I can barely smell it! I keep re-trying this on different days and each time the same result: a formerly powerful and intriguing blend of hot spices, diluted to within sn inch if its life! So teasing! It hints at being so rich and hot when I press my nose right up to the skin. Then within 20 minutes it fades to nothingness. This is obviously a quirky body chemistry thing going on here, and I almost didn't post a review. But I decided to, anyway, for perhaps I'm not the only one whose body refuses to work with this scent. I rated it 4 because even though it is truly a "1" to me, I thought it unfair to bring its score down. *sigh* I'm such an Hermes -lover, too! PS--I can't smell Vetiver Tonka, either. But Ambre Narguile and Rose Ikibana work just fine.
Utterly unsophisticated. There are lots of different types of musk fragrances out there--animalic (Serge Lutens does these well) and vegetal (I love FM Musc Ravegeur for this). Fleur Poudree de Musc is based on a drug-store type of musk, like Jovan or Coty. As if these weren't powdery enough ALREADY, Les Neriedes adds a synthetic-y faux "baby powder" note to the mix, something a bit like Love's Baby Soft. That's about all there is to this scent: cheap musk and cheap poudre. Despite the product name, there is no "fleur" at all, and no other elements to discover or develop. I hate to sound extreme, but the result is fairly revolting. This scent comes off as drugstore-quality or less. DISCLAIMER: I am not knocking the delicious drugstore classic Love's Baby Soft.
Oh dear. This morning I recklessly dabbed this fragrance on from a sample vial without reading about it first. I grabbed Rose de Nuit because I was in the mood for roses. I had no idea how primal this scent is! Now I'm in the mood for (blush) something ELSE. I'm dead serious. This perfume is NOT about roses. I love the way it starts out with a strong aging rose note at the opening. Then the rose yields --rather easily, I'm afraid--to the earthy and animalistic notes. For the remainder of the time, these notes dominate.... You can barely hear the vanquished rose moaning quietly.... Wear with care.
This review is somewhat premature, as I have only tested this fragrance once, and washed it off after an hour because I was anxious to test something else. So I will possibly be updating this review in the future. However, this perfume made such an impression on me that I wanted to start reviewing it NOW! Santal Mysore is QUITE unlike any other sandal I've tried. The warmth and richness of sandalwood frags like Tam Dao or Ten Corso Como is defined by ARIDITY. Also, sandalwood perfumes tend to retain a quality of lightness, regardless of other notes. Santal Mysore is neither dry nor light. THIS sandal is deep, rich..... resonant. It's kind of dense, dark and syrupy. To be honest, I haven't decided whether or not this one's for me, yet. It does fascinate me, though, because it is such a different side of sandalwood.