Orange Blossom Roundup

by L'Artisan Parfumer, Royal Apothic, Serge Lutens, and LUSH, it's all good

It's a rainy, miserable day, so I'm rounding up all my orange blossom scents as an attempt at cheer. The scent of orange blossom is synonymous of happiness & sunshine; it's also historically symbolized innocence, youth, and paradise. You've probably run across it more often when it's synthesized as a base for "ick" coverups like hospital disinfectants, "personal hygiene" product masking scent, and hand sanitizers. Orange oil and rind is familiar in environmentally sound cleaners like Simple Green and hand degreasers. I'm not going to cover this entire gamut of uses, I'll only focus on the perfumes, and specifically the ones I have ready at hand (sorry fans of Fahrenheit, no scrutiny today!).
  
Fleur d'Oranger by L'Artisan Parfumer

Like most scents from L'Artisan this is a light, fresh blossom scent which fades quickly to an undernote of honey.The top note of actual orange blossom didn't last long when it was new, but now that my sample is a few years old the top note seems to last maybe an hour. In the end it smells like orange blossom honey, but not cloying. Also like most titles from L'Artisan, you'll find yourself needing to reapply this one often. This didn't stop me from wearing it for my own wedding --to make it last I literally wore it by pouring half the sample vial over my head after I put on my wedding dress!  

Courts of Venice by Royal Apothic

This is only the highest, lightest distilled fraction of the top note of orange blossoms, nothing else, and completely linear. Long lasting & very ethereal, sweet and innocent as cotton candy without any sugar, stickiness, or actual physical attributes at all. This scent is heavenly, it smells like it's suffused with light (if that makes any sense). It might be described as what angel's breath would smell like if one were so fortunate to meet (or believe) in one. Look! I'm writing like a 19th century poet in the transports of love! I think this perfume has made me into one. Ack! 

Fleurs d'Oranger by Serge Lutens

Like the L'Artisan one, but richer and slightly spicy, it's bolder, and smells like a mature adult. More peel is included, not just the blossom, and a little neroli gives it more body than L'Artisan's. This one also resolves into a honey note, but not so obviously, and takes longer to get there as it has more stamina. It resolves closer to clover blossom honey than orange blossom honey.  





Orange Blossom by LUSH

It's the blossom, the fruit, the leaves, the dirty roots, the bark, the bite, the whole tree and more! The bell pepper-like scent of citrus tree leaves is very pronounced, as is the astringency of broken & crushed citrus leaves, too. Heavy floral, heavy foliage, earthy... heavy, maaan... A little goes a loooong way, apply sparingly.


 I got samples of the L'Artisan & Serge Lutens from the Perfumed Court. LUSH was bought at my local Lush store, Courts of Venice was bought by me at my local Anthropologie. I fear the Courts of Venice has been discontinued, tho :-(

Coco Noir

by Chanel, 2012, so-so

Spicier than the original Coco, it’s really trying for that “noir”. But if Chanel is really serious with this flanker, really putting some money behind this spinoff, why is the scent so much less than the original Coco?

The original Coco has some serious punch behind it, a languid, heavy, rich oriental fragrance. Coco smells of heavyweight satin, a stiff leather handbag, old-fashioned cosmetics, and a tiny bit of the pushing-middle-age woman wearing it. It’s the back room of a classy venue somewhere in the late ’70s, when a little muskiness with your luxury was expected required.


Coco Noir is going for that, but with added mysterieux. It’s trying for a more sophisticated aura, less frank sex. It ends up taking the original Coco, lightening and streamlining it to a suggestion, then adding a gentle spiciness while amping up the fruitiness slightly. It complies with modern Light ‘N Sheer requirements, and the impossible to omit tutti-frutti, but somehow retains the original Coco in there somewhere, if only as a transparent haunt. Even Coco Mademoiselle, with the full-bore melon/fruit/aqua trendy treatment has more guts and chuzpah in its French-manicured pinky finger than Coco Noir has in its whole bottle.

So it comes to this: Coco is a full-throated disco diva, Coco Noir is a young “Goth-lite” pop star. Not bad, but no soul.

p.s. And Coco Mademoiselle? It’s the privileged prep-school achiever who’s just this side of being the Mean Girl.

Coco Noir spritzed on myself in passing in the mall. Coco was a carded sample rediscovered in the detritus of my old teenage room at my dad’s, I don’t know when/where I got it. Coco Mademoiselle carded

Tips & Tricks: Blown Capacitor

No, it’s not a lovely new scent by Comme des Garçons, but a wild tangent I quested after one too many Pink Pearl Jumps. I wanted to smell like a burnt capacitor, but I only had my perfume collection to draw from: what to do?

Q: Wha? A: You know when a large piece of electronics fries, like a CRT monitor or stereo component (NOT a cellphone, the batteries usually blow & that’s a whole other -dangerous- ballgame…)? That smoky, electronics burning/ozone smell? The smell a former sysadmin I used to work with called “the magic smoke escaping”? Right. I wanted to replicate THAT. Why is a question for a therapist. Moving on to How…

If I had any CdG Odeur 53 left, I would be halfway there, but I didn’t. What I have is florals, too too many florals, and a few chypres, and several woodsy things. But… I had some samples….
After much sniffing around with my head in the closet (stop it!), I got a halfway decent concoction going: Take a lot of L’Artisan’s Dzing!, and on top of that a tiny, teensy, eensy, miniscule amount of Bandit. Really. Let it settle. After it dries it’s almost there! Needs more acridity, and Bandit adds a sweet note that really shouldn’t be there at all, but it works!

Fine tuning: Really could use some Odeur 53, might try Parfum Sacré, as a sub, but I think it’ll be too rosy. Do Not recommend subbing Bulgari Black in for Dzing!, tho they’re very similar. Again, Black is a little too sweet, nevermind I went on about the joys of it smelling like rosin-core solder, that’s different from burnt-out electronics. Good luck! Let me know of your experiments!

Neroli Portofino & 4711 & Cologne: Separated at Birth

by Tom Ford, Maurer & Wirtz, and Thierry Mugler; 2007, 1792, & 2001;
so-so, good, good

More fraternal siblings, this time fraternal triplets. Again, close, but not identical, all have the fresh summer-lemon body, and what they do with it later is where the difference lies, and Tom Ford ought to be ashamed of himself!
Sure, he was innovative with his earlier scents: Black Orchid was exquisite, For Men was unpleasant (for me, it smelling like replicant ladyparts and all) but very unique, then he did retro very well with Violet Blonde, but Neroli Portofino? Come ON! Pretty much ripping off Thierry Mugler’s Cologne wholesale, right down to the slightly downmarket public-restroom-soap note, which it quickly backs away from, and instead dives headfirst towards the very plastic smelling 4711 fake citrus center notes. It’s still classy, and lovely, but generic and a really a copycat of its older brothers.

Now, 4711 has had a lot of work done over the years, and the stretched skin on his smooth, lemony face is sure flawless, but obvious. He still swans around Europe, respected by the ladies, still occasionally emulated by very young men, but no longer an icon. Cologne showed up and got the party started again, being just louche enough for interest, but not enough to be offensive. Now Neroli is trying to hit the scene, and has followed Cologne’s style to the letter, but didn’t forget 4711′s original key attractions, but still couldn’t pull it off. Neroli imitated the right swank from his brothers, but forgot to become his own individual on the way to the party.

Neroli Portofino sample arrived unasked-for in the mail from Neiman-Marcus. Large bottle of 4711 bought from a bridal discounter. Cologne sample bought from the now-defunct ReiRien.

Lys Méditerranée & Wild Honeysuckle: Separated at Birth

by Frederic Malle & Bath and Body Works, 2000  & 2006, good & good

Fraternal, not identical sisters, but surprisingly similar all the same. A fine scent from Frederic Malle slumming into cheap body splash territory? Not quite. Lys Méditerranée is supposedly iris, according to its name, but other than a slight rootiness is almost the same sweet-flowery scent as Wild Honeysuckle. Both have a lemony top note, but predictably enough Lys Méditerranée ages more gracefully than Wild Honeysuckle, having things like “development” and a “base note” involved. Wild Honeysuckle just cracks her bubblegum and smells exactly the same for four hours until she disappears into the shopping mall. Not to say Lys is a paragon of sophistication, either, she’s in the garden getting her summer frock dirty rooting around near the stream bed, even though company’s due any minute.
Wild Honeysuckle used to be compared favorably to her older cousin, Beyond Paradise, but Beyond isn’t what she used to be and really hasn’t aged well: from being an early-summer honeysuckle goddess to now an almost leathery crone of nothing but base notes and a large floppy sun hat. Wild Honeysuckle sometimes goes along with Beyond, just so a bit of familial resemblance can been perceived.
Lys Méditerranée sample bought from The Perfumed Court (when it still existed), Wild Honeysuckle bought from usual mall outlet.

Black Cashmere

by Donna Karan, 2002, good

Another sadly discontinued perfume that both renowned & mourned. Until I happened across an unopened sample vial at a yard sale, I was a little mystified what the wailing & gnashing of teeth was about for what I thought had to be yet another mere flanker –in this case of Cashmere Mist, an otherwise good but unremarkable all-purpose scent. Black Cashmere is head & shoulderpads above its Cashmere Mist origins, with its sister, Chaos (also very sadly discontinued) the only other Donna Karan fragrance able to hold a candle to it.
As I inferred above, there’s an old-fashioned style to it, strong, assertive, a bit loud, with a deep voice, it’s not at all wispy nor demure like every other scent DK has put out (the Be Delicious line is candy, the Women/Men line is trying to be CK One, and Pure is nonexistent). As I inferred above, it has shoulderpads in its tailoring, but these aren’t 1980s shoulderpads, but 1940s shoulderpads. It’s the sort of scent people would think Joan Crawford would’ve worn, before they knew about the wire coathanger-mediated child abuse.
Spice & incense rounds it off to an elegant winter’s night on the town. It goes well with leather & fur. It achieves this rounded, assertive, earthy, strong yet mellow, slightly sweet pushy elegance by containing oakmoss. Real oakmoss, the stuff that smells like a hardwood forest on a damp autumn day. The stuff that has been a staple of quality perfumery since perfumery existed as an art & business, a necessary ingredient in classy chypres, is an excellent basenote, and the stuff that the European Union recently outlawed as an ingredient. Oh @*!$%^
Well, there’s you’re problem. Bureaucratically-mediated stupidity. We lack the magnificence of Black Cashmere and its sister Chaos, another DK scent with strong similarities and the same base accord, due to politicians and overly-cautious regulation. Thanks for nothing, EU. Thanks.
Can be found on eBay and other etailers for both an arm and a leg, payment plans for firstborn not out of the question. Still worth it. Reformulations of both using oakmoss substitute recently made available, but seriously not worth it. Thin & weak, the notes go seriously off in about an hour.
Nothing lasts.