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.