hortus conclusus

Well, I've come through one long, rainy day on a night of a full moon with no major attitude problems; there's no way to prove it, but it could very well be the calming, misty, divine influence of the Bois Des Iles. My husband also seemed quite attracted to me today, although he claimed not to smell anything special on my skin. Perhaps it was just me knowing how special I smelled to myself.... Now all I have to do is get to sleep--I wonder if a spritz or two of L'Occitane's discontinued Lavande would send me off to The Land of Nod.

I love true citrus fragrances, and this Hermes always hits the spot for me. It has a very classic profile, and is extremely well-mannered. It opens with a lovely, extremely true, sour citrus, then quickly dries down to a lovely, gentlemanly bergamot/oakmoss. Although I love my large sample of this, I will never invest in a bottle simply because I have found it to have almost no staying power. If it were a 30 dollar bottle, this wouldn't be a problem, but at this price point, its better just to keep a little sample around to sniff from time to time.   That is the problem with citrus in general. Like Guerlain's Eau de Fleurs de Cedrat with its evanescent lemons, or Pacifica's Tuscan Blood Orange, it doesn't seem to hang around too long. It took me a long time to figure this out in my journey towards loving fragrance. I used to find--and still do most of the time-- the synthetic-smelling citrus topnotes in mass-marketed perfumes completely repulsive, proba

My friend Jane, a born business executive (it's only a matter of time before she scales to the highest ranks of the company that is lucky enough to retain her for good) LOVES all things Burberry. She is singlemindedly dedicated to its aesthetic, and longs for the day she has the resources available to obtain all the Burberry goods she can possibly imagine. I hope she likes the new fragrance release, Spor t , available in formulations for men and women. I got a whiff of the masculine version, and was intrigued, although I have been burned by Burberry in the past; they nearly always seem to almost get there with their fragrances, but then take a wrong turn and end up with something unpalatable or banal. This one seems to explore the idea of ginger in intriguing ways. It reminds me--appropriately--of a bottle of liqueur that Jane and her husband Zach prefer, the niche-y, gingery Canton, produced by the same folks who brought us my favorite, St. Germain: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/0

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/29/fashion/29bazaar.html Sometimes I wonder if the incredibly high-profile ad campaign (4 A-lister Spokeswomen!!!) might have killed the positive critical reception of what I think is one of the best mid-market fragrances released in a long while.

Well, it's a rainy, moist, somewhat gloomy day here in my town--typical spring, I guess. Luckily, I have just the remedy for the sluggish malaise that can creep up on me on days like these. Chanel's Bois des Îles interacts with the wet, muddy, rainy smell in the most miraculous way, making even the most mundane walk to the library seem like a mystical event of deep significance. The reainy smell makes the sandalwood go nuts, and it becomes like a prayer to divinity, offered up on my skin. I feel cloaked in an aura of otherworldliness, an untouchable magical splendor. (I must wear this to my job interviews next year). The bitter nutty notes add just the slightest edge to the warmth of the gingerbread. This is a masterwork, and every time I don it I feel like I am wearing a work of art of the highest order. And that is the best thing about perfume. It offers a forum for the individual to interact with art in a deeply personal way, beyond even