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Exciter76
Greasy Raspberry Jam Donut Tries To Be A Casanova In The Bra Section—Mission Failed
Originally written April 21, 2010:
I have no idea how the folks at VS were able to incorporate amber into a fragrance and yet keep it from being too heady, too overpowering, too ...much. Amber can be wonderful in very small doses, but wanting amber to be tempered in scent is like wanting a redwood tree to be smaller in stature--it's nearly impossible.
At first spray the scent is a bit strong, maybe even a bit odd. Amber is ever present, from first spray to last drydown, but it is always romantic at its very core. The initial impression is a sweet, rich, and an ever-so-slightly fruitiness. Then there is a subtly sexy heart of rich amber which transforms to something powdery soft and uber-romantic.
It was most appropriate that this fragrance was sold during the winter holiday season. It was definitely meant to be worn while snuggling close to one's paramour by the yuletide fire. The wearer will be transported by the romantic nuances that mark the essence of wintertime encapsulated in this bottle.
I'm thinking of a meme song from the 2010s on September 20, 2023:
I believe the chorus went like this (forgive the eluded crude language):
That little ditty is directed to myself. I despised "Dream Angels Heavenly Enchanted | Victoria's Secret", with its excessively saccharine raspberry jam donut scent. I paid for it—at a time before I discovered swapping, when I believed I was stuck with it for all eternity—so I felt obligated to embrace it and love it. I tried desperately to find the good in this scent. I figured if I said kind words both to it and about it, I'd come to love it. That never happened.
I learned from this fragrance that my love for raspberries as food did not equate to a love for raspberries in fragrance. Raspberries often become cloying, painfully sweet, artificial and unpleasant on my skin. There are a few exceptions in my collection, but mostly, I have to say no to raspberries. This greasy, jammy donut scent moved me to finally swear off (most) raspberry-dominant perfumes.
This has been relegated to the dustbin of perfume history, long forgotten and replaced ad infinitum with nearly identical clones. It would take me a few more years to realize Victoria's Secret wasn't for me. I should have understood "Dream Angels Heavenly Enchanted | Victoria's Secret" to be my harbinger of things to come; my tastes would evolve past their sugared breakfast fare perfumes to more evolved, and moderately less treacly, gourmands.
I have no idea how the folks at VS were able to incorporate amber into a fragrance and yet keep it from being too heady, too overpowering, too ...much. Amber can be wonderful in very small doses, but wanting amber to be tempered in scent is like wanting a redwood tree to be smaller in stature--it's nearly impossible.
At first spray the scent is a bit strong, maybe even a bit odd. Amber is ever present, from first spray to last drydown, but it is always romantic at its very core. The initial impression is a sweet, rich, and an ever-so-slightly fruitiness. Then there is a subtly sexy heart of rich amber which transforms to something powdery soft and uber-romantic.
It was most appropriate that this fragrance was sold during the winter holiday season. It was definitely meant to be worn while snuggling close to one's paramour by the yuletide fire. The wearer will be transported by the romantic nuances that mark the essence of wintertime encapsulated in this bottle.
I'm thinking of a meme song from the 2010s on September 20, 2023:
I believe the chorus went like this (forgive the eluded crude language):
"Why the f--k you lying?
Why you always lying?
Mmm, oh my gah, stop f--king lying!"
Why you always lying?
Mmm, oh my gah, stop f--king lying!"
That little ditty is directed to myself. I despised "Dream Angels Heavenly Enchanted | Victoria's Secret", with its excessively saccharine raspberry jam donut scent. I paid for it—at a time before I discovered swapping, when I believed I was stuck with it for all eternity—so I felt obligated to embrace it and love it. I tried desperately to find the good in this scent. I figured if I said kind words both to it and about it, I'd come to love it. That never happened.
I learned from this fragrance that my love for raspberries as food did not equate to a love for raspberries in fragrance. Raspberries often become cloying, painfully sweet, artificial and unpleasant on my skin. There are a few exceptions in my collection, but mostly, I have to say no to raspberries. This greasy, jammy donut scent moved me to finally swear off (most) raspberry-dominant perfumes.
This has been relegated to the dustbin of perfume history, long forgotten and replaced ad infinitum with nearly identical clones. It would take me a few more years to realize Victoria's Secret wasn't for me. I should have understood "Dream Angels Heavenly Enchanted | Victoria's Secret" to be my harbinger of things to come; my tastes would evolve past their sugared breakfast fare perfumes to more evolved, and moderately less treacly, gourmands.
Bottled Joy For The Nihilistic Gen-X Set
Originally reviewed on April 21, 2010:
I feel the need to defend Happy's honor. Not because it is the ultimate powerhouse of all women's fragrances—it is far from it. I need to do so because it is a fragrance that defined Generation-X girls as women who did not need to let their fragrance define them nor let their fragrance announce their presence as our mothers' fragrances did in pre-Happy years.
I do not want to imply that Happy led a revolution of "passive" scents. However, ask any thirty-something woman today what fragrance was prominent in her perfume cache and she will most likely confess Happy was not only in her collection, it was the one used most often. I call it "passive" because most scents that predated Happy were strong "power" scents (see Red Door, Safari, or Red by Giorgio). They were not bad scents but it was time for a change and Happy led the charge along with Sunflowers.
Maybe my age gives me away but it does not smell dated to me. I grew tired of it by the time I was twenty-five. I have rediscovered Happy (and all of its sibling scents) recently and fallen in love all over again.
It smells simplistic—like a white floral-tinged glass of Sunny Delight—but it was borne out of a need for scented simplicity. Admirably, though, for such a simple scent it is very distinctive. Happy cannot be confused for any other scent but it is often apparent that many post-Happy fragrances were inspired by it.
Not bad for the Gen-X slacker of fragrances.
Thoughts from a forty-something Gen-Xer on September 19, 2023:
I still respect the hell out of "Happy (Perfume) | Clinique", even if I no longer own a bottle or plan to own a bottle in the future. I still respect its quiet rebellion, its need to be joyful with a generation ascribed with nihilistic tendencies. What's more confounding than meeting a young girl in a black daisy floral dress with ten eyelet Doc Marten boots and a few spritzes of "Happy (Perfume) | Clinique"?
I'm no longer striving to confuse the masses like I used to. However, should I have a hankering for some good old-fashioned 1990s nostalgia, I'll turn to a mini of "Happy (Perfume) | Clinique".
I feel the need to defend Happy's honor. Not because it is the ultimate powerhouse of all women's fragrances—it is far from it. I need to do so because it is a fragrance that defined Generation-X girls as women who did not need to let their fragrance define them nor let their fragrance announce their presence as our mothers' fragrances did in pre-Happy years.
I do not want to imply that Happy led a revolution of "passive" scents. However, ask any thirty-something woman today what fragrance was prominent in her perfume cache and she will most likely confess Happy was not only in her collection, it was the one used most often. I call it "passive" because most scents that predated Happy were strong "power" scents (see Red Door, Safari, or Red by Giorgio). They were not bad scents but it was time for a change and Happy led the charge along with Sunflowers.
Maybe my age gives me away but it does not smell dated to me. I grew tired of it by the time I was twenty-five. I have rediscovered Happy (and all of its sibling scents) recently and fallen in love all over again.
It smells simplistic—like a white floral-tinged glass of Sunny Delight—but it was borne out of a need for scented simplicity. Admirably, though, for such a simple scent it is very distinctive. Happy cannot be confused for any other scent but it is often apparent that many post-Happy fragrances were inspired by it.
Not bad for the Gen-X slacker of fragrances.
Thoughts from a forty-something Gen-Xer on September 19, 2023:
I still respect the hell out of "Happy (Perfume) | Clinique", even if I no longer own a bottle or plan to own a bottle in the future. I still respect its quiet rebellion, its need to be joyful with a generation ascribed with nihilistic tendencies. What's more confounding than meeting a young girl in a black daisy floral dress with ten eyelet Doc Marten boots and a few spritzes of "Happy (Perfume) | Clinique"?
I'm no longer striving to confuse the masses like I used to. However, should I have a hankering for some good old-fashioned 1990s nostalgia, I'll turn to a mini of "Happy (Perfume) | Clinique".
2 Comments
If A Perfume Could Smell Like A Victorian-Era Porcelain Doll...
Originally reviewed on May 6, 2012:
I remember my best friend from high school had this on her vanity back when everyone else had Sunflowers and Tresor on theirs. I used to snoop around in her collection as our tastes ran similar. Sung was my favorite in her collection. I believe I even used up her bottle and tried to offer up a rancid bottle of Primo (Kmart’s answer to Giorgio Beverly Hills) in exchange. She was a true friend—she forgave both my overindulgence with her bottle of Sung and my reparations in the form of an insult-in-a-bottle. Fast forward about fifteen years. I had long forgotten the name of my friend’s emptied bottle but I knew the scent immediately. It was about time for a long overdue reunion.
Sung is a very verdant white floral that I cannot help but associate with white lace. To be exact, I smell lily-of-the-valley first and foremost, sweetened by other white flowers and grounded by woods. It dries down smelling of soft and powdery white flowers, a real gem among rocks for white floral lovers. It has real tenacious staying power and it is quite the sillage monster, a quality many contemporary fragrances lack. It is as precious, as romantic, and as much an anachronism as lacy gloves. It is a fragrance that may seem a bit out of place these days but it will endure fads and whims of the present and find its place among the classics.
Revised reminiscence on September 19, 2023:
I take part in an online project, "Monthly Perfume Tray Project," in which I create a tray featuring a small subset of perfumes from my collection. It's an ideal project in which to take part because I'm able to focus on my collection in an very intimate way. It has (mostly) tamed my desire to acquire new bottles and helped me cull those bottles that no longer speak to me, assuming they ever did. This month I added "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung" to my tray.
I'd always loved "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung" but, at some point in the 2010s, my mother discovered it, too. She got a whiff of it on me and was reminded of a perfume her grandmother wore, a long lost Avon. Once my mom got a hold of it, it was no longer my high school nostalgia scent—it was one of mom's signature scents. I felt awkward wearing it, so I gave her my bottle.
My mother passed away in 2021. I inherited her perfume collection, which included a new 100mL bottle of "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung". I tried to wear it soon after her passing but I found it too painful. Fast forward to September 2023: I'm able to wear it but it's taken on new facets and associations. I find it much mossier than I remembered. Maybe it's my body chemistry, or maybe it was my mother's chemistry that gave it a mossier quality that I couldn't "unsmell." It's also possible that the new bottle was a reformulation, thus giving the appearance of being greener and mossier. The white florals that I associated with white lace gloves became a little louder and brasher. Again, I don't know if that can be associated with my body chemistry, reformulation, my memory or any other combination of factors.
To be frank, "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung" always felt anachronistic, even in the few years that followed its release (I discovered it in 1991). This may seem irrelevant but my aforementioned best mate in high school used to do some modeling, particularly vintage Victorian costume modeling. She was also a model for porcelain dolls. She looked like a turn-of-the-century doll, with porcelain white skin and large hazel eyes. She was the girl that boys were too intimidated to approach because she was so beautiful and otherworldly. "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung" fit her and her aesthetic so perfectly; it, too, was hauntingly beautiful with its porcelain white essence and otherworldly presence. Much like "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung", though she was all those qualities listed, she was also very accessible and likeable, if you took the time to get to know her.
I'm glad I'm reconnecting with "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung". It still feels awkward to wear again. It's still anachronistically beautiful, nevertheless.
I remember my best friend from high school had this on her vanity back when everyone else had Sunflowers and Tresor on theirs. I used to snoop around in her collection as our tastes ran similar. Sung was my favorite in her collection. I believe I even used up her bottle and tried to offer up a rancid bottle of Primo (Kmart’s answer to Giorgio Beverly Hills) in exchange. She was a true friend—she forgave both my overindulgence with her bottle of Sung and my reparations in the form of an insult-in-a-bottle. Fast forward about fifteen years. I had long forgotten the name of my friend’s emptied bottle but I knew the scent immediately. It was about time for a long overdue reunion.
Sung is a very verdant white floral that I cannot help but associate with white lace. To be exact, I smell lily-of-the-valley first and foremost, sweetened by other white flowers and grounded by woods. It dries down smelling of soft and powdery white flowers, a real gem among rocks for white floral lovers. It has real tenacious staying power and it is quite the sillage monster, a quality many contemporary fragrances lack. It is as precious, as romantic, and as much an anachronism as lacy gloves. It is a fragrance that may seem a bit out of place these days but it will endure fads and whims of the present and find its place among the classics.
Revised reminiscence on September 19, 2023:
I take part in an online project, "Monthly Perfume Tray Project," in which I create a tray featuring a small subset of perfumes from my collection. It's an ideal project in which to take part because I'm able to focus on my collection in an very intimate way. It has (mostly) tamed my desire to acquire new bottles and helped me cull those bottles that no longer speak to me, assuming they ever did. This month I added "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung" to my tray.
I'd always loved "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung" but, at some point in the 2010s, my mother discovered it, too. She got a whiff of it on me and was reminded of a perfume her grandmother wore, a long lost Avon. Once my mom got a hold of it, it was no longer my high school nostalgia scent—it was one of mom's signature scents. I felt awkward wearing it, so I gave her my bottle.
My mother passed away in 2021. I inherited her perfume collection, which included a new 100mL bottle of "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung". I tried to wear it soon after her passing but I found it too painful. Fast forward to September 2023: I'm able to wear it but it's taken on new facets and associations. I find it much mossier than I remembered. Maybe it's my body chemistry, or maybe it was my mother's chemistry that gave it a mossier quality that I couldn't "unsmell." It's also possible that the new bottle was a reformulation, thus giving the appearance of being greener and mossier. The white florals that I associated with white lace gloves became a little louder and brasher. Again, I don't know if that can be associated with my body chemistry, reformulation, my memory or any other combination of factors.
To be frank, "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung" always felt anachronistic, even in the few years that followed its release (I discovered it in 1991). This may seem irrelevant but my aforementioned best mate in high school used to do some modeling, particularly vintage Victorian costume modeling. She was also a model for porcelain dolls. She looked like a turn-of-the-century doll, with porcelain white skin and large hazel eyes. She was the girl that boys were too intimidated to approach because she was so beautiful and otherworldly. "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung" fit her and her aesthetic so perfectly; it, too, was hauntingly beautiful with its porcelain white essence and otherworldly presence. Much like "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung", though she was all those qualities listed, she was also very accessible and likeable, if you took the time to get to know her.
I'm glad I'm reconnecting with "Sung (Eau de Toilette) | Alfred Sung". It still feels awkward to wear again. It's still anachronistically beautiful, nevertheless.
Nine Out Of Ten Dentists Recommend You Avoid This Scent; The 10th Dentist Is Anosmic
Originally written on May 6, 2012:
Nanette Lepore’s eponymous fragrance reminds me of Daisy’s backwoods cousin. Certainly, Marc Jacob’s Daisy is not a scent I would associate exclusively with the 1% but while there is some level of class and refinement with Daisy, NL is a Pabst Blue Ribbon-swilling downhome gal in cute pink velour sweats. NL is actually very similar to Daisy: both have candied fruits, strong violets, and fluffy roses. Both are strong and long-lasting but the similarities end there; NL dries down to a sweet sandalwood with hints of vague fruit cocktail and generic flowers.
Analogous to my assessment of NL’s Shanghai Butterfly to D&G’s Light Blue, this is a cost-conscientious rendition of Daisy but definitely not a replacement for it. Sticklers for bottles will fall in love with its tchotchke design or hate it immensely. Since I have both NL and Daisy—and prefer Daisy—I keep NL more for its bottle than for its juice.
Shaking my damn head on September 18, 2023:
There was a period in the early 10's when Nanette Lepore fragrances glutted the discounter market. I worked in the cosmetics department at a department store so I had access to the latest new scents on the market. I don't recall ever seeing any of these scents outside of Marshall's/TJ Maxx/Ross/Burlington. I was taken with the cutesy pink bottle, along with "Shanghai Butterfly | Nanette Lepore"'s mint green flacon. The price was right, the bottle was cute, the scent...?
I hated this. It was sweet. Imagine store-bought sugar cookies dipped in corn syrup, which was mixed with aspartame. Now make that 100 times sweeter. Oh, and splash some cranberry cocktail on top of all that. Garnish that hot mess with some violet and rose hard candies. That was my recollection of "Nanette Lepore | Nanette Lepore". I hated it more with each wearing. It gave me a migraine and three cavities every time I wore it. I'm pretty sure it stole $20 from my wallet for good measure.
I don't take pleasure in seeing the discontinuation of a perfume. This is an exception. Goodbye and good riddance.
Nanette Lepore’s eponymous fragrance reminds me of Daisy’s backwoods cousin. Certainly, Marc Jacob’s Daisy is not a scent I would associate exclusively with the 1% but while there is some level of class and refinement with Daisy, NL is a Pabst Blue Ribbon-swilling downhome gal in cute pink velour sweats. NL is actually very similar to Daisy: both have candied fruits, strong violets, and fluffy roses. Both are strong and long-lasting but the similarities end there; NL dries down to a sweet sandalwood with hints of vague fruit cocktail and generic flowers.
Analogous to my assessment of NL’s Shanghai Butterfly to D&G’s Light Blue, this is a cost-conscientious rendition of Daisy but definitely not a replacement for it. Sticklers for bottles will fall in love with its tchotchke design or hate it immensely. Since I have both NL and Daisy—and prefer Daisy—I keep NL more for its bottle than for its juice.
Shaking my damn head on September 18, 2023:
There was a period in the early 10's when Nanette Lepore fragrances glutted the discounter market. I worked in the cosmetics department at a department store so I had access to the latest new scents on the market. I don't recall ever seeing any of these scents outside of Marshall's/TJ Maxx/Ross/Burlington. I was taken with the cutesy pink bottle, along with "Shanghai Butterfly | Nanette Lepore"'s mint green flacon. The price was right, the bottle was cute, the scent...?
I hated this. It was sweet. Imagine store-bought sugar cookies dipped in corn syrup, which was mixed with aspartame. Now make that 100 times sweeter. Oh, and splash some cranberry cocktail on top of all that. Garnish that hot mess with some violet and rose hard candies. That was my recollection of "Nanette Lepore | Nanette Lepore". I hated it more with each wearing. It gave me a migraine and three cavities every time I wore it. I'm pretty sure it stole $20 from my wallet for good measure.
I don't take pleasure in seeing the discontinuation of a perfume. This is an exception. Goodbye and good riddance.
2 Comments
Why Take A Shower When You Can Just Spritz This?
Originally written on May 15, 2012:
Aqua Rush is a glorified bar of Irish Spring, particularly the Icy Blast-scented one. It’s nice, safe, and work-appropriate—all code for BORING. There is no real breakdown of notes in the traditional form of opening, heart notes, and base notes; this is nothing more than a linear stream of Icy Blast-scented Irish Spring from beginning to end. The projection is mildly medium, the sillage is a whispering trail, and the longevity is about four to six hours; all the makings for a perfect cubicle-mate scent.
Despite its droll nature I like this scent. It’s definitely gender-neutral in its inoffensive nature; a state of cleanliness is neither male nor female. Cilantro fans will be pleased with its cool leafiness, a welcome alternative to the aquatic standard: cucumber. This is well-suited for summer weather but like most aquatics for summer, it’s still dull. I’ve found Nautica scents to be equitable to body sprays; this is no exception. I’d gladly add this to my collection but not for more than $20. My suggestion would be to wait a few more months till it is in the bargain bin at TJ (TK) Maxx or Marshall’s.
Updated thoughts on September 18, 2023:
No, but really, just take a shower. If you want to keep that shower fresh feeling, spray this? I didn't hate this but it didn't grab me the way "Mugler Cologne | Mugler" did, which was far more than just a bar of expensive soap. For me "Mugler Cologne | Mugler" was the bar to surpass, no pun intended; not only did "Aqua Rush | Nautica" not surpass "Mugler Cologne | Mugler", but it didn't even keep up with it.
For what occasion is this perfect? Maybe for the gym or a jog around the neighborhood—when you know you'll be sweating out your cologne but you don't want other gym members/neighbors to think you smell like an oversized arm pit? Or, after a night of partying and drinking to excess, to rid yourself of the scent of the night before? Maybe a first-time scent for young adolescent boys and girls? Maybe a guilty pleasure? I can speak on that—I went through a soap-scented obsession, which is how I came across "Aqua Rush | Nautica" in the first place. Honestly, I'm not sure.
I'm starting to think my age is making me cynical. Ignore me. Wear what makes you happy. Just don't spend more than $20USD for this.
Aqua Rush is a glorified bar of Irish Spring, particularly the Icy Blast-scented one. It’s nice, safe, and work-appropriate—all code for BORING. There is no real breakdown of notes in the traditional form of opening, heart notes, and base notes; this is nothing more than a linear stream of Icy Blast-scented Irish Spring from beginning to end. The projection is mildly medium, the sillage is a whispering trail, and the longevity is about four to six hours; all the makings for a perfect cubicle-mate scent.
Despite its droll nature I like this scent. It’s definitely gender-neutral in its inoffensive nature; a state of cleanliness is neither male nor female. Cilantro fans will be pleased with its cool leafiness, a welcome alternative to the aquatic standard: cucumber. This is well-suited for summer weather but like most aquatics for summer, it’s still dull. I’ve found Nautica scents to be equitable to body sprays; this is no exception. I’d gladly add this to my collection but not for more than $20. My suggestion would be to wait a few more months till it is in the bargain bin at TJ (TK) Maxx or Marshall’s.
Updated thoughts on September 18, 2023:
No, but really, just take a shower. If you want to keep that shower fresh feeling, spray this? I didn't hate this but it didn't grab me the way "Mugler Cologne | Mugler" did, which was far more than just a bar of expensive soap. For me "Mugler Cologne | Mugler" was the bar to surpass, no pun intended; not only did "Aqua Rush | Nautica" not surpass "Mugler Cologne | Mugler", but it didn't even keep up with it.
For what occasion is this perfect? Maybe for the gym or a jog around the neighborhood—when you know you'll be sweating out your cologne but you don't want other gym members/neighbors to think you smell like an oversized arm pit? Or, after a night of partying and drinking to excess, to rid yourself of the scent of the night before? Maybe a first-time scent for young adolescent boys and girls? Maybe a guilty pleasure? I can speak on that—I went through a soap-scented obsession, which is how I came across "Aqua Rush | Nautica" in the first place. Honestly, I'm not sure.
I'm starting to think my age is making me cynical. Ignore me. Wear what makes you happy. Just don't spend more than $20USD for this.
