Chinatown

by Bond No.9, 2007

This isn't Chinatown in New York (or anywhere else). This is a mall, or maybe a carnival midway. It's a caramel corn and cotton candy kiosk next to a Yankee Candle Co. You don't wear this scent, it wears you. There's a faint whiff of rotting chicken in a dumpster in the parking lot; funky in a gross way, not a cool way. Simple, but not boring, the scent ages exactly the way the objects of the scents it presents would age; the caramel corn starts smelling stale, the incense/potpourri candles fade, the cotton candy dissolves and the dumpster scent goes flat at further distances. It smells puerile, and flirts with the edge of disgusting and tawdry, almost falling over. It communicates skankiness without musk, leather, or any of the usual animalic scents used in traditionally skanky perfumes. It does this using sweet and familiar scents, perfectly illustrating a very, very underage bad girl. This perfume should be named Lolita, not Chinatown.

Despite all the jailbait associations, I don't hate it. It's very much not boring. Like rubbernecking at a car accident, it holds your interest. There is nowhere I can possibly wear this perfume, it isn't appropriate for anywhere I go, smelling like I live in a candle store and regularly roll in stale caramel corn is SO not work-appropriate, and will annoy people in any public venue. It is, however, perfect if you are: 1) Going to a carnival while drunk/high, 2) Regularly pick up teenage boys at the Abercrombie & Fitch, or 3) Are 15 and take your baby along for the other two activities.

Kelly Calèche

by Hermès, 2007

You're thinking, "What's with all the Hermès scents lately? First it's that Bel Ami swill, then the newer/nicer Hermessence ones. What gives?"

What gives is I got a free sample of Kelly Calèche, which I've been jonesing to try due to the breathless anticipation in the blogosphere about it. How did I get it? I had the opportunity to buy my Hermessence fave, Ambre Narguile, in a quantity larger than 1.5 ml. (Specifically, 3.3 oz. @ $195. Ouch! I better have gotten a free sample with that!) I also bought it while wearing shorts and flip-flops.

WTF?! Isn't the Hermessence collection only in certain exclusive Hermès boutiques? Aren't these boutiques in very very fancy boulevards and shopping gallerias (not malls!) that have actual fashion police to keep out the riff-raff earning less than seven figures annually, minimum? Why yes, they do, MOST of them. I was fortunate to be on my honeymoon in Hawai'i (that's MRS. Heretic to you!) Yes! The Waikiki Hermès boutique is one of the few that carries the Hermessence collection, but in full-size bottles, not the small 4-bottle sets (the Hermès outpost at nearby Ala Moana Mall does NOT carry Hermessence!)

Any readers that've been to Waikiki know it's heavily geared towards rich Japanese tourists, yet still manages to be full of beach bums and West Coast college kids, plus any of the above regularly go to a fancy dinner right from the beach, still sandy and in their flip-flops. This equals the only Hermès boutique in the world where I could walk in (after some prodding from my husband) dressed like this without getting dirty looks, actually get attended to by a very nice Japanese sales girl, and actually be allowed to purchase anything... AND get a free sample!

OK, so... Score! So what does the stuff smell like already? It smells exactly as the advertising says (now you know why I went on about its acquisition). It smells like the accessories section of every fancy department store you've ever visited. It's softly flowery, softly woodsy, and gently leathery, like very soft suede gloves, not something harder and nastier like a saddle or a motorcycle jacket. Other bloggers have already said much the same thing about Kelly Calèche, there is no new news to report. The advertising images of a model in leather pants with a bottle of the stuff caught in a carriage whip is inaccurate, there isn't even that much leatheriness in this, it's much more civilized. The scent doesn't change as it wears, it's "linear" with no noticeably different top note or undernotes that appear later in the day as it wears out. This is a soft, tasteful scent you can wear everyday, to the office, going out, etc. It succeeds in communicating wealth and taste subtly (unlike anything by Jean Patou). Many might adopt it as their signature scent. It provides an aura of classiness, but isn't obtrusive. Obviously it's designed to appeal to everyone. I find it boring ...but not tedious, which is further evidence of its excellent design. For everyday wear, I'm still in love with Ambre Narguile, a much more complex, intriguing scent that I can sniff all day and find a different facet. Kelly Calèche, much like the actress Grace Kelly after whom it was named, is a more aloof scent. Nice and classy ...and so what?

Covet

by Sarah Jessica Parker & Coty, 2007

You've seen the commercial: Sarah Jessica Parker in character as Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, kicking in a shop window to get at a bottle of Covet, then getting hauled away, maniacally hissing, "I HAD to have it!" Of course after a hysterical ad like that, I HAD to have it for my next review!

At my local Macy's I sniffed the bottle, another sweet fruity-floral, oh yawn. I wouldn't kick in a shop window for this. Normally I'd put it down and move on to another bottle, but in the interest of a fair review... (ok, you can stop laughing now..... really..... are you done yet? Thank you) I made a small sacrifice, I spritzed some directly on my arms.

After determining I wasn't melting like the Wicked Witch of the West (which Sarah Jessica Parker uncannily resembles), I found I smelled like a spicy, candied apple pie... with a bouquet of white flowers drooping over it... and Mom's Tussy deodorant accidentally smudged on the apple slices before baking. Oops.

The Tussy middle note lasts for a while, then fades into a generic
vanilla-woodsy scent, which lasts for hours. The Tussy adds a slight
trashy edge to the generic trendiness, much like the character of
Carrie. Compared to the other Sarah Jessica Parker perfume, Lovely (a
ripoff of Beautiful by Estée Lauder) this is only a little more
interesting, but still a generic fruity-floral. So what's all the hype
about? Certainly not the intriguing but short-lived appley-spicy top
note, nor the generic floral note, definitely not the Tussy. Covet it?
Not so much.

Ambre Narguile & Osmanthe Yunnan

Today I have 2 of the Hermessence series by Hermès: Ambre Narguile and Osmanthe Yunnan. The others are Poivre Samarcande, Rose Ikebana, Vetiver Tonka, and Paprika Brasil. This is a very "foody" line of exclusive scents from Hermès, which you can only get (supposedly) from selected Hermès boutiques (or online discounters and decanters).

Ambre Narguile, 2004

I detect: Amber, a powdery note, almond (marzipan?), mimosa, musk. The amber isn't annoying and obvious, but is used as rounding, as it should be, instead of as a head-splitting club. The mimosa is probably giving it the almond/marzipan scent I detect. I always smell marzipan in mimosa scents...

Nice.

It makes me reminisce about a dog grooming salon, specifically the
almondy-powdery notes smell just like the powder they put in my dog's
fur after they shaved him for the summer, with the slight musk note it
actually smells a little like my dog, too. This isn't a bad connotation,
clean doggie is a very nice, friendly smell, and I miss my doggie!

This one lasts and lasts on the skin, getting foodier and almondy-er as
it wears, but never tips over the edge into making you hungry or
smelling like a cookie.

Osmanthe Yunnan, 2005

Like Sweet Honesty by Avon, freesia and a powder note, lily of the
valley, and the slightest of musk. Very sweet. Smells just like some
Holly Hobbie bubble bath beads I had as a child. Absolutely NO lasting
power, sweet top note dissipates in a few minutes, soft powdery note
lingers slightly longer but fades sharply very quickly, there's nothing
left in an hour. Would be an excellent choice for the tween girl in your
life, if you're the sort of cool aunt who'd give her an expensive "grown
up" perfume. It's much more sophisticated than the usual choice of
9-year-olds -Love's Baby Soft, or any of the wretched fruity-floral
Hilary Duff fragrances that are so popular lately. Much less cotton-candy sweet than anything by Aquolina, either. I wish I had more to say about it other than "sweet & lovely & GONE in 60 minutes!"

Après l’Ondée

by Guerlain, 1906

It’s hard to be snarky about violets, they’re soft and purple-smelling, and are about the only choice if you want to say “innocent” without cloying sweetness, tho historically, they apparently mean something else. Après l'Ondée (After the Heavy Rain) is all about violets, it’s got violets out the wazoo! Picture that for a moment....

Remember the end of "Poem, or Beauty Hurts Mr. Vinal" by e. e. cummings?

. . .
perpetually crouched, quivering, upon the
sternly allotted sandpile
--how silently
emit a tiny violetflavoured nuisance: Odor?

ono.
comes out like a ribbon lies flat on the brush
. . .

Metamorphoses #2: Black March

by CB I Hate Perfume, 2006

Much has been said about this, or any other, Christopher Brosius scent. That they're unusually evocative, that they don't smell like perfume (duh!) but are more like olfactory art. Black March smells like dirt, specifically classier dirt, otherwise known as humus, and very specifically in the wet spring with green shoots of weeds growing out of it. What it specifically evokes to me is the Dirt flavor jellybeans from Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Its scents of humus and young greens makes other perfume bloggers go into flights of purple prose about "Springs From My Childhood", but not me. Springtime where I'm from generally happens in April, the dirt isn't humus, it's clayey-sandy DIRT, and there's a lot more harsh wet wood, more noxious smelling weeds, and at least one dead animal rotting in a ditch somewhere.

Bel Ami

By Hermès, 1986

Bel Ami by Hermès is a black hole cologne, you try to escape from its pull, but ultimately succumb to the stygian Pine-Sol Musk depths, its bug spray-like sillage is the electromagnetic transmission signalling a fresh victim.

This is from the '80s, but smells as harsh as a cheap cologne from the '70s (an old, very cheap one called Archie, whose bottle was a miniature plastic hard hat, comes to mind). When I tried it on my fiancé it reacted as the creators probably intended, his skin swallowed up the scent almost immediately, and curiously, released the faintest whiff of clove. In an hour the piney-bug spray scent appeared, but much weaker and less noxious, it was almost nonexistant in a few hours and disappeared before the end of the day.

Earlier "cologne" was a unisex scent, usually heavy on the citrus, maybe a little something piney but not much. No. 4711 being one of the originals

Patou 1000

By Jean Patou, 1972

Patou 1000 is the sibling of "the world's most expensive perfume", Joy, which I like to call the Emperor-Has-No-Clothes perfume as I've never been able to smell it. Oh, I can perch my nose at the edge of the bottle at the department store, and like a sound beyond the range of human hearing, you know it's there, but you can't hear it, just a fluttering of your eardrums. That's what Joy does to my nose. Something quivers, my body is aware of the presence of something, but I only detect the faintest whiff of something floral, like a sound from a great distance. Perhaps the ingredients are so costly, Patou only uses the tiniest amounts? Is Joy the grand perfumer's response to homeopathy? Is it a colossal corporate ripoff? Most likely. But this is a review of Patou 1000, not Patou Joy.

I put on 3 dabs of this stuff and almost fell over. Strong, musky, very

Chanel #5

I hate Chanel #5.

Yack all you want about its timelessness, its sparkling aldehydes complementing its heavy jasmine, its perfect representation of everything classy. I think it stinks.

Specifically, I think it stinks of a child's inflatable vinyl pool toy that someone spilled cheap fake flowery perfume on and a little nail polish remover. These aldehydes do not "sparkle" as advertised, they smell like what they are, chemicals. The actual real flowery essences are suffocated in the haze of industrial waste that is your sillage. This perfume does not say "Marilyn Monroe", or "New York", or "high class" to me; it shouts the post-war slogan, "Better Living Through Chemistry!"

What's worse, I can't escape it. Knockoff scents appear in every toiletry known to (wo)mankind, usually the ones that are already unwholesomely