A Perfume By Another Name . . . Wait, They All Smell the Same

Allow me to continue to geek out on perfumes. I am having a boring streak in perfume sniffing. For the last three days I have worn Flower by Kenzo, Lolita Lempicka, and Chanel's Coco Madamoiselle. Besides from very slightly different floral notes they all smell so boringly similar: sweet saccharine powder with a touch of vanilla or musk.

I think I have narrowed down my stereotypes of perfume, divided by gender:

For Women
Old Lady - aldehydes, e.g. Chanel No. 5
Bombshell- gourmand, sugar, and musk (see above)
Hip Young Thing - lychee, citrus, tea, e.g. L'Occitane's White Tea
Hippie - incense, neroli, patchouli, e.g. Ormond Jayne's Orris Noir

For Men
Cab Driver - MUSK, e.g. too many to specify
Frat Boy/Clubber - aqua notes and pine, e.g. Cool Water, etc.
Old Boy's Club - polished leather, smoke, bourbon, e.g. classic Polo
Cowboy - rugged leather and spice, e.g. Stetson

I got a kick out of the notes in Britney Spears' perfume Fantasy: red lychee, golden quince, kiwi, cupcake accord, jasmine, white chocolate orchid, musk, woods, and orris root. "Cupcake accord" - it doesn't get better than that. And why "red lychee" and "golden quince"? All lychees are red. And quinces are yellow. Period.

I did just send for a sample of Parfum D'Empire's Fougere Bengale, supposed to evoke India under British colonial rule with notes evocative of a tiger hunt: straw, horses, tobacco, musk, etc. Isn't great how we get to romanticize imperialism, now that enough time has passed so people won't be so damn sensitive about it? Bring on the safari hats and gin and tonics!

Retail Therapy & Sniffing

So I've moved into a house my parents own in Palo Alto - the tenants had unexpectedly vacated the place, leaving it to me and my sister. My sister, however, is out gallivanting in Italy so I have this 3 bedroom place to myself for now. Without furniture. This was incredibly depressing until I realized that I could use the empty master bedroom and its mirrors as my fitting room, post-shopping.

I've also indulged in a bit of perfume sniffing today. I finally got down to smelling three fragrances I've longed to try: Agent Provocateur, Agent Provocateur Maitresse, and Fracas by Robert Piguet. If you sense a theme, yes, there is one. I won't elaborate.

Agent Provocateur surprised me. I suppose I forgot that it was a chypre. It is supposed to be an in-your-face scent of seduction. To me it smelled like money, which could be seductive . . . but instead of saying "come hither" to me it said "I am expensive and sleeping in crisp sheets at the Chateau Marmont." Its dry down on my wrist was a pleasant woody musk. Chandler Burr, New York Times perfume critic, mentioned "black plums on hot skin," but I'm not feelin' it.

AP's Maitresse began promisingly enough, sweet and musky, which I love, but it evolved ultimately into an overwhelming powderyness, which I associate with suffocating in an elevator when certain uber-coifed older ladies enter.

Fracas, thank goodness, did not disappoint. It is a tuberose so strong it knocks you off your feet - but it is exquisitely beautiful. Roja Dove, in The Independent, described it as smelling "like very, very hot flesh after you've had sex." Well. I think of tuberose as the scent that makes me say, "That - what is that? I've smelled that long ago in a garden after dark. I'm so happy to smell it again." I think I must own a bottle.

And then I did some unplanned sniffing. While in Bloomingdale's I was handed a strip of John Varvatos. Ugh. Cloyingly sweet and way too much like a knock-off of Thierry Mugler's Angel - marshmallows and weirdness. I will never understand all the rage over Angel. I had to scrub it off my wrist after trying it on, kind of like I have to do now with Maitresse.

Bathroom Humor

Woops. This was taken in China.

Then again, the opposite extreme is also absurd. I took this in Kaua'i.

A Room of One's Own

I've spent the last week alone at my cousin's studio in Santa Cruz (except for one night when my sister joined me). I had no idea that living a solitary, autonomous life could be so invigorating for me right now. I actually went and bought groceries, cooked for myself, and had to answer to no one regarding how late I slept or how many episodes of the West Wing I watched on my laptop!

Please excuse the flowery pj's. Hey, what's the point
of getting away if you can't be in your pj's all day?

Hiking at Pogonip, a nature preserve right by UC Santa Cruz
- the campus, by the way, is set in a redwood grove.

Hiking at Wilder Ranch, right along the sea cliffs.

I found this cove at Wilder Ranch, down a little footpath to the beach,
nestled between two arms of a cliff. In a more adventurous mood,
I would stay overnight in it.