Sultry summer lemon; Or, Dior's Eau Fraîche

A lemony cologne can't be sultry, you say? I thought the same thing. Colognes are all about the sunny citrus fruit–cool and dry or juicy and sweet–and not much else, so I thought. I wasn't much interested. But then I found Dior's Eau Fraîche. I had no idea Dior had bottled the formula for an ideal summer "vacances."

Eau Fraîche is all warm, savory lemons on a bed of naughty oakmoss and civet. The citrus isn't sharp or sweet, but very rounded, making me feel indolent rather than refreshed. Having smelled Guerlain's Mouchoir de Monsieur lately, I would describe this as a more unaffected, more effervescent, and more interesting version of fresh lemon on an animalic base. I haven't found any confirmation that there is civet in this perfume anywhere else, and I almost couldn't believe it when I first sniffed. I mean, civet skank in a juice with "fresh" in the title? You gotta love that. It's so perverse, and in only the best way. This perfume is best suited for Adriatic breezes and drinks after a swim at the Lido, or an amorous siesta on crisp sheets at the Grand Hotel Excelsior, Venice, circa August 1928.

I am turning into a Dior girl, that's for sure. Lately my Guerlains have been too heavy, my Chanels too powdery, my Lanvins too dark. In summer, the old Diors just have that perfect husky but effortless tenor to them. I fell for Miss Dior and Diorling long ago. I started loving Diorissimo this spring, and now I can't live without Eau Fraîche. Now all that I need is to get over my anti-melon stance to truly appreciate Diorella and Diorama, and to find the untraceable Dior Dior, and I'll be a true fanatic. Well, okay, it may be too late.

Perfume Shrine wrote a very knowledgeable review of Eau Fraîche that you'll enjoy, I'm sure, if you want to learn more.

You can find Eau Fraîche on fleabay and on some perfume discount websites still, but I don't know details on its production status. It is really rare in the U.S., at least, from what I can tell. Does anyone know if it's still being produced by Dior?

My Top 12 of Summer

I've seen lots of fabulous spring fragrance top 10 lists lately, which I love reading, but here in Texas let's face it: spring was sooooo two weeks ago. It's summer, really. So I thought I'd start a best of summer list, and I can't seem to stop at ten, so here's twelve. Gosh, I can't believe I haven't reviewed all of these yet. I have much blogging to do, don't I?

o1. Miss Dior (recent parfum or vintage edt/edc)
02. Givenchy Le De (This recent reissued edt is so lovely and subtle, it's easy to overlook. Easy like a Sunday morning, baby.)
03. Dior Eau Fraiche (A Dior-lover's heavenly dry cologne)
04. Diorling (This is the recent edt, which is more of a gorgeous jasmine and tobacco fragrance with an astringent top than it is a leather. Addictive.)
05. Guerlain Vetiver (Refreshing, tonic, palate-cleanser)
06. Vent Vert (vintage edt)
07. Frederic Malle Une Fleur de Cassie
08. Chanel No. 19 (The iris and vetiver edt is essential to me for summer, but the parfum works in summer too, with that beautiful galbanum in the top notes.)
09. Prada Infusion d'Iris (Another iris-vetiver combo for when I feel like a more modern, understated mandarin burst in the topnotes.)
10. Worth Je Reviens Couture
11. 1000 de Patou edt (Anyone else find Luca Turin's description of this as "dowdy" just uncalled-for? This has a self-assured, I-don't-need-to-impress-anybody beauty.)
12. Jasmal by Creed

Image is Rome from Mount Aventine by J.M.W. Turner

In Which I Consider a Trip to Paris, Again

On top of the recent Now Smell This report of the Perfumes Exposition taking place in Paris this September, I've have fallen deeply in love with Muscs Koublai Khan, a Paris exclusive from Serge Lutens. Both have me seriously considering a trip to Paris.

As the (lamentedly) ex-perfume-blogger Ina of aromascope described it, Muscs Koublai Khan is my "favorite olfactory pet." And I love that she described it that way, because that sense of a creature with a beating heart connects MKK to another animalic charmer for me: Joy parfum. That jasmine wonder, once I got past the petrol whiff it's jasmine initially gives off, has always seemed to me more closely related to a furry creature than a perfume. I've never "gotten" civet until I smelled it in Joy, and I've never "gotten" musk until I discovered it in MKK. Both seem to take on lives of their own on the skin.

In MKK I have found another pet. I might even "love him and hug him and call him George" (You know you want to watch the classic "Abominable Snow Bunny" Bugs Bunny cartoon if you don't know what I'm talking about). It's salty; it's naughty; it's utterly transfixing. To my nose, it has none of the soapiness of some musks such as Kiehl's, and it's also not the gentle woody musk of Annick Goutal's Musc Nomade. Furthermore, its perfection is further confirmed because it has none of the "soiled underwear" that Luca Turin so accurately describes in Miller Harris's L'Air de Rien. Your mileage may vary, of course, but let me just say I thank my lucky stars that MKK is the scent of my fantasy (i.e. bathed) horseman-warrior revealed by the warm, flickering light of a few beeswax candles. L'Air de Rien is Mick Jagger's skidmarked undies, circa 1968.

I need to go to Paris, obviously. Seems like a reasonable trek to take for such a beautiful beast.

The last time I felt this way, it was brought on by another Serge Lutens beauty: Iris Silver Mist. Hm, a pattern may be emerging here.

**UPDATE**
I've seen on the fantastic blog Serge Lutens: Nearly All the Facts that MKK may be joining the export range of fragrances this coming holiday season. squeee!!!

Image of a musk deer from A Manual of Materia Medica and Pharmacology, uploaded by chestofbooks.com

Shaken not stirred: Niki de Saint Phalle

I've had a bottle of Niki de Saint Phalle's eponymous perfume (edt) for several months, but didn't really know what to make of it. I've finally figured out what it reminds me of: a dirty gin martini, straight up, three olives, shaken not stirred. Now I love gin, but with NdSP I understand why some people don't. As soon as I put it on, and continuing through the drydown, it feels too moonshine-ish, too heady-flowery, too high-test. No matter how much I like a good dirty martini, I don't particularly like feeling as if I've bathed in one. That's what NdSP feels like. I guess this all could be summed up as: it wears me, not the other way around.

I hoped it would turn me into the immortal, smart-mouthed Myrna Loy in The Thin Man, martini in hand, but alas. I've heard much about the oddity, the bitter tagetes (marigold), the vetiver. However, it's not bitter in the sense I expected, from my love of leathery chypres like vintage Cabochard and Diorling. Now with those perfumes I feel like I could make an attempt at pretending to be the witty, irresistible Nora Charles. But with NdSP I get only an overwhelming, sharp, woody-flowery spike through my head, which after a while feels not like the buzz, but like the morning after a few too many martinis. Oh well, I'll give it another twirl another time. With my often-changing perfume tastes lately, I may well fall in love with it next time I try it.

Notes: Jasmin, Rose, Marigold, Ylang-Ylang, Vetyver, Sandalwood, Patchouly, Amber, Musk

Mood: blustery

Wallace Stevens can usually be counted on to be right--irritatingly so. We are the weather, he says, and like the weather right now, I'm feeling ambivalent and fickle. Reading Wallace Stevens' Harmonium is perfect for my mood. What's a better description of Spring's blustery changeableness than this:

The sovereign clouds came clustering. The conch
Of loyal conjuration trumped. The wind
Of green blooms turning crisped the motley hue

To clearing opalescence. Then the sea
And heaven rolled as one and from the two
Came fresh transfigurings of freshest blue.
-- Sea Surface Full of Clouds, Wallace Stevens

Some more quickie, fickle Spring fragrance reviews to go with my mood:

Dior Escale a Portofino
A nice orange blossom cologne, with a bit of almondy notes. I have a decant of L'Artisan Parfumeur's Fleur d'Oranger limited edition, though, and this is not as nice. Redundant.

Serge Lutens Muscs Koublai Khan
Wow, this is supposed to be intimidating? You cuddly-wuddly warrior-horseman, you. Who's a big, bad Mongol emperor? C'mere.

Guerlain Jicky edt
Hot mess of overbearing lavender and tumid vanilla, completely unbearable to me, sadly. I can't do lavender and vanilla--doesn't work for me in Caron's Pour Un Homme, either.

Guerlain Mouchoir de Monsieur
Like an eccentric and frustrating boyfriend, first repellant (an initial hit of civet, i.e. poo) who becomes more attractive (lemony citrus warmed irresistably by civet). I'm going to try layering this with something floral, since it is a bit too linear once it calms.

Kiehl's Original Musk
Floral, powdery musk, with none of the sweaty tang that makes Muscs Kublai Khan so comforting.

Jil Sander #4 parfum
Smells like panettone, the spiced, raisin-studded Italian holiday bread.

Narciso Rodriguez edt
Floor-cleaner citrus that appears to be not quite well-blended with a barely perceptible (to me) musk.

Anticipations, Quickies, Cheapo Finds, and Ambivalence

Do you have any scents you're yearning for, or a frustrating ambivalence, lately? Here are my recent anticipations, tests, finds, and fickleness.

Most anticipated new releases:

Robert Piquet's Futur (as reported in Sniffapalooza Magazine)
Lubin's Gin Fizz (as reported by Carmencanada in Grain de Musc)
Ego Facto's Me Myself and I
Ego Facto's Jamais le Dimanche (a new brand currently only available at Marionnaud, as reported by Octavian Coifan at 1000fragrances)

Recently tested:

Parfums de Nicolai Odalisque
Just like other PdNs I've tried, the topnotes are just an unreproachably lovely bouquet with a gentle touch of green sparkle, so well blended that I can't tell where the lily of the valley begins or the iris ends, because it all just melds so smoothly that it...then starts to bore me silly, for some reason I just can't fathom. Why me? Why can't I love these? So unfair.

Strange Invisible Perfumes Urban Lily
Ummm... I can't say yet if this is urban. Moldy lily of the valley juice crushed weeks ago into a sidewalk-crack by passersby, maybe?

Profumo.it Tabac
Beautiful. An unambery, non-gooey, non-gourmand tobacco leaf scent. I'm still not sure I've found my tobacco holy grail, though.

Jasmal by Creed
Waxy to the point of fruitiness and green jasmine. So simple I tend to think it isn't necessary, until Joy parfum is just a little too creamy and complex and brainy to deal with on a Texas summer's day. Sweetens into a banana-jasmine in the drydown.

Givenchy III
Raspy, silvery-green, and velvet-furred like lamb's ear leaves. The coriander always has me entranced up front, but then I end up getting a bit tired of it; it feels a bit too linear, even for a confirmed green chypre lover. I love it, then I'm bored, then I love it, then I don't. Another one I'm ambivalent about, to say the least.

Messe de Minuit by Etro
The first time I sniffed this, in the dry, dry, cool Texas winter, it repulsed me like a dank, moldy basement. Now, with some spring moisture in the air, it is a lovely citric-tinged incense with a musky undertone.

Cheapo finds:

Vivienne Westwood Libertine
This is making me doubt my sanity. I actually LIKE a fruity floral. With pineapple (shudder) in it.

Bvlgari Black
Thank goodness I was able to return the stinker watery bottle of this I bought off eBay a while ago, and now have a good bottle from a reputable online retailer. I already knew I loved it, but I'm newly overjoyed by the rubbery black tea topnotes.

Geoffrey Beene Grey Flannel
See recent review for my slavering adoration.

Perfumes I'm afraid I've fallen out of love with:

Oh dear, I have full bottles of these and I'm not sure I can stomach them anymore. I may need to wait until next winter to make a final stay-or-go decision on these, but I'm feeling fickle and overloaded with perfumes I don't love. I may need to clear out some bottles from the collection.

Chamade
Annick Goutal Heure Exquise

A wet black bough, or, I discover Grey Flannel

The perfect March scent is not what I expected at all. I'm finally getting out from under the workload, and the SWSX madness has awakened me a bit from all-work-no-play tedium. I've been working my way out of a perfume lull, as well. It's just getting warm enough in Texas for me to starting wanting something crisp, austere, and preferably androgynous. I've got enough girly perfumes, and my mainstays through the winter have been vintage, bosomy, animalic floral parfums like Joy and My Sin. So I was at TJ Maxx one mid-March morning, and what do I find for $16... Geoffrey Beene's Grey Flannel.

This is what I wanted Black March by CB I Hate Perfume to be, but wasn't. I was disappointed with Black March: it's nice, but too aquatic for my taste, and disappears too quickly. Why is it that aquatic scents don't capture that cold, wet, blustery, wind-chapped-cheeks feeling I actually want? How do they manage not to be envigorating? That aquatic note is like a still pond, not a rainy day, I guess.

I seem to remember having recoiled like I'd been slapped on previously sniffing this wonder. Now I'm fantasizing about finding a man just so I can spray him down with it. It's that good, people! Hm, I wonder if my next-door neighbor would let me...okay, better not go there. That initial smack of citrus and violet (is it also violet leaf, I wonder?) is a little scary at first, especially if you've grown to loathe department stores' harsh, chemically masculines, 98% of which seem to flay your nose with violet leaf topnotes, but hang in for a sec, don't judge, and ... ah, there it is: like a comforting wool sweater after walking through the woods on a moody, scratchy March day. I get rain-soaked, just-budding March branches, and the dewiest, unsweet violets nestled in wind-whipped, bitter green leaves that probably come from the geranium and sage notes, but which to me smell like artemisia. That's probably because I have tons of artemisia in my yard, so smell it all the time. As I compulsively sniff my arm, I keep thinking: not just bitter-sweet, but bitter-warm and bitter-soft, to boot. Perfection.

Notes include: lemon, violet, sage, geranium, oakmoss, patchouli, cedar, sandalwood.

So why did I ever feel the need to go niche to find a moody, rainy-day atmosphere perfume? Do yourself a favor and hit a Marshall's or a TJ Maxx and buy some of this stuff before they change it.

Image of Loch Ness from Sunny Scotland.