Cryptic

Because I happened to be wearing Eau du Ciel today, I decided to check out its Parfumo page. I was shocked to see the low ratings for sillage and longevity. Since I know a lot of the members here and respect their noses, I can't help but suspect a reformulation. My bottle is about ten years old, and I'm trying to conserve it because it was my wedding perfume and I'm goofy and sentimental that way. To compare my bottle's sillage and lasting power to something that is familiar to most perfume enthusiasts, I would say it is similar to the original EL White Linen.

In any event, my old, possibly pre-reformulation EdC fit the whole "blushing bride" cliche in that it has an innocent, young vibe that seems to be a thread running through some of the early Goutals, such as Petite Cherie and Eau de Charlotte. You absolutely have to be a fan of linden blossom in order to warm up to this perfume, as that is the most prominent note in the composition. There's also neroli, which lends a soft, soapy touch and a whisper of iris and violet. It's not a complex fragrance, but it is a bit unusual, as are quite a few of the Goutals.

If I ever (God forbid!) get married again, I'll be sporting a tuberose bomb like Carnal Flower or the like, but I nevertheless look back on my Eau du Ciel days with fond memories and happiness. Hopefully I'm dead wrong about the reformulation and what I'm seeing is just a disagreement among noses, but I will try to find a new bottle to compare to my old one and report back.

Update: Yes, Ciel has been reformulated. :( Not only watered down, but the big linden note that made it so special has been scaled back and the rosewood trimmed, as well. Some people actually might prefer the reformulation as it is no doubt more of a blended floral now, but I find it a bit vapid compared to the quirky, off-center beauty of the original, however unbalanced it might have been. So, my precious old bottle that used to sit on my dresser next to my husband's wedding boutonnière is now wrapped up in tissue and stowed away from the light of day. :: sniff ::

If you're looking for an office-friendly scent that conjures up fields of blue flowers and blustery spring days, Wild Bluebell is a safe choice. It won't make you sniff your wrist in ecstasy, but it is quite pleasant and it's unlikely to offend anyone.

If you compare the note pyramids, Wild Bluebell shares some DNA with Penhaligon's iconic Bluebell: clove, rose, lily of the valley, etc. Where they part company is at the galbanum, which lends an icy green touch to Penhaligon's version, and the rather aggressive hyacinth which is Penhaligon's choice to represent the scentless bluebell flower. In contrast, the Jo Malone uses the much softer bellflower to stand in for bluebell in their compostion.

Penhaligon's version is distinctively lovely and unforgettable to its fans, but detractors find it synthetic and harsh. No one will think Wild Bluebell is hideous, but I'm betting that few, if any, people will embrace it as their signature fragrance. I have both, because as much as I love my Penhaligon's in that lovely Victorian bottle, the Jo Malone is much easier to wear and allows me to have that dose of spring dressed in blue any time I like. As with most Jo Malones, sillage is a bit wimpy and longevity is fair to middling.

The Lush fragrance line deserves a lot of credit. It is cruelty free, earth friendly, well-crafted and incredibly cheap. If you haven't already, do yourself a favor and check out the line.

Based on the name, I expected TSOWT to be a straightforward ozonic in the mold of Acqua di Gio and its progeny. Instead, this fragrance is a somewhat gothic powerhouse of swirling smoke softened by tender notes of beeswax and chamomile.

The top note of mint conjures up nothing so much as a grove of eucalyptus trees. As the scent evolves, the wind gusts through the grove, bringing with it a vaguely disturbing burnt smell from forest fires nearby. The danger lingers until the rains come, washing away the cinders and bringing forth a delicate waft of grasses and flowers. Not the sort of scent you'd want to wear to the prom, but a great frag to wear for yourself and enjoy as a fab example of perfume as art.

The advance rave reviews of Interlude Woman prompted me to haunt the decant sites until it appeared, and I immediately ordered a good-sized sample. That sample arrived on a ridiculously hot day. Normally I would have avoided testing a heavier fragrance in extreme heat, but in this case I couldn't wait and stupidly sprayed myself with abandon.

My initial reaction was that Interlude was horrific. Out of that huge pyramid of notes the only one that emerged with any distinction was immortelle, a note I loathe. If you've ever lived in a US college dormitory, you're probably familiar with Roach Motels. They are cardboard traps that are coated on the inside with a mixture of maple syrup (to attract the "tenants") and pesticide. This gruesome smell was what Interlude evoked for me. I was tempted to toss the sample but fortunately I didn't.

Once the weather cooled a bit, I decided to give Interlude another shot, and I'm so glad I did. The dreaded immortelle retreated to the background and all the loveliness emerged. I don't know that I ever encountered a walnut note before in perfume but it is delicious, especially in conjunction with the strong coffee aroma that permeates the heart of Interlude. I should tell you that this is not at all a fruity fragrance, despite the presence of kiwi and grapefruit, so don't let that scare you away from trying it. What I found Interlude to be was a warm, woody, tonka-infused fragrance with just a suggestion of rose and incense. Men could wear it just as easily as women, but I do think that it will end up being a fall/winter frag for me if I ever decide to spring for that gorgeous blue bottle.