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Mystery, Wrapped in a Riddle, Inside an Enigma
It took me quite some time to appreciate Sarah Jessica Parker COVET, which to my nose is a "mystery, wrapped in a riddle, inside an enigma" perfume. When I first purchased a bottle (scent unsniffed) a couple of years ago, I was very disappointed and confused. After a single wearing, I relegated the beautiful bottle filled with a strange peridot-colored liquid to the "Mistakes Were Made" shelf of my armoire.
Months later, when I decided to give this perfume a second chance, I was pleasantly surprised. There was something resiny and complex and enticing about this unorthodox composition. Greens and chocolate and honeysuckle and lavender and lemon and amber? What? Well, yes, somehow they work together very well in this perfume, which in addition to containing better-quality components than are typical for celebrity scents, is also unique. I know of no other perfume similar to SJP COVET.
On a 91F afternoon with relatively low humidity, I was delighted to find that COVET held up extraordinarily well and seemed even more appealing than I had found it to be during the winter. But I should say that it changes radically with all sorts of environmental factors, and therefore defies objective description. Different notes become salient under different conditions. How to convey the beauty of COVET? I think that this is a clear case where words cannot do justice to the perfume. I find it quite compelling and yet too weird too describe. I might say that the chocolate is dominant, but then that sentence would be rendered false (and me, therefore, a liar!) a few seconds later. The notes of COVET wax and wane and undulate in a manner that could only be modeled using a very complex differential equation. Around every corner is a new twist throughout the course of COVET's reasonably lengthy life on my skin.
Like the perfume, the bottle, too, is unique; smooth and hefty with an odd shape I've not seen before. Even the color of the liquid—perodot–is rare in perfumery and unique in my collection. Happily the color has not degraded or faded since I acquired my bottle two years ago. But the best part of all is that the juice inside continues to smell really great.
It took some time, but I finally sniffed the splendor and saw the COVET light. COVET is a "challenging" perfume in the way that the films of Werner Herzog are sometimes said to be "challenging". However, COVET is not, for me, at all difficult to wear, now that I've cracked its hard outer shell.
Months later, when I decided to give this perfume a second chance, I was pleasantly surprised. There was something resiny and complex and enticing about this unorthodox composition. Greens and chocolate and honeysuckle and lavender and lemon and amber? What? Well, yes, somehow they work together very well in this perfume, which in addition to containing better-quality components than are typical for celebrity scents, is also unique. I know of no other perfume similar to SJP COVET.
On a 91F afternoon with relatively low humidity, I was delighted to find that COVET held up extraordinarily well and seemed even more appealing than I had found it to be during the winter. But I should say that it changes radically with all sorts of environmental factors, and therefore defies objective description. Different notes become salient under different conditions. How to convey the beauty of COVET? I think that this is a clear case where words cannot do justice to the perfume. I find it quite compelling and yet too weird too describe. I might say that the chocolate is dominant, but then that sentence would be rendered false (and me, therefore, a liar!) a few seconds later. The notes of COVET wax and wane and undulate in a manner that could only be modeled using a very complex differential equation. Around every corner is a new twist throughout the course of COVET's reasonably lengthy life on my skin.
Like the perfume, the bottle, too, is unique; smooth and hefty with an odd shape I've not seen before. Even the color of the liquid—perodot–is rare in perfumery and unique in my collection. Happily the color has not degraded or faded since I acquired my bottle two years ago. But the best part of all is that the juice inside continues to smell really great.
It took some time, but I finally sniffed the splendor and saw the COVET light. COVET is a "challenging" perfume in the way that the films of Werner Herzog are sometimes said to be "challenging". However, COVET is not, for me, at all difficult to wear, now that I've cracked its hard outer shell.
Evanescent Beauty
Sometimes less really is more, and Annick Goutal EAU D'HADRIEN perhaps exists precisely in order to demonstrate this verity. Unfortunately, tempus fugit, and so does EAU D'HADRIEN, faster than the father of an unwanted child, I'm afraid.
Of course, all good things must come to an end, but EAU D'HADRIEN edt is extraordinarily evanescent on my skin. Looks as though I'll just have to try the edp, because this lemony-cypress wonderfulness has really won me over. We are in high EAU D'HADRIEN season here in Boston, and I'm reaching for this bottle all the time. Really this has turned out to be one of my favorite citrus compositions. EAU D'HADRIEN is to lemon and cypress as Hermes CONCENTRE D'ORANGE VERTE is, well, to green oranges!
I should add that my first encounter with this fragrance was less than felicitous, as I, too, encountered the dreaded Lemon Pledge effect reported by so many disappointed naysayers. I have since been persuaded to believe that Annick Goutal sample vials are undependable. This fragrance was launched in 1981. How long was my sample vial sitting in a warehouse? That is the question, and thanks to my natural predilection for skepticism, I went ahead and bought a bottle of this splendid citrus scent, on the strength of the rave reviews it has received far and wide.
I am delighted to be able to report that they were right! I stand corrected, and now will think twice before rendering a final judgment on any perfume based on a sample vial of unknown origin, handled in unknown conditions, and stored God knows where, for who knows how long?
Of course, all good things must come to an end, but EAU D'HADRIEN edt is extraordinarily evanescent on my skin. Looks as though I'll just have to try the edp, because this lemony-cypress wonderfulness has really won me over. We are in high EAU D'HADRIEN season here in Boston, and I'm reaching for this bottle all the time. Really this has turned out to be one of my favorite citrus compositions. EAU D'HADRIEN is to lemon and cypress as Hermes CONCENTRE D'ORANGE VERTE is, well, to green oranges!
I should add that my first encounter with this fragrance was less than felicitous, as I, too, encountered the dreaded Lemon Pledge effect reported by so many disappointed naysayers. I have since been persuaded to believe that Annick Goutal sample vials are undependable. This fragrance was launched in 1981. How long was my sample vial sitting in a warehouse? That is the question, and thanks to my natural predilection for skepticism, I went ahead and bought a bottle of this splendid citrus scent, on the strength of the rave reviews it has received far and wide.
I am delighted to be able to report that they were right! I stand corrected, and now will think twice before rendering a final judgment on any perfume based on a sample vial of unknown origin, handled in unknown conditions, and stored God knows where, for who knows how long?
Coppertone or Bain de Soleil?
It is rare to find the near unanimity seen among sniffers of Bond no 9 FIRE ISLAND. It seems that everyone who has ever been to a beach agrees: this perfume is a suntan lotion facsimile. Whether this composition mimics Coppertone or Bain de Soleil—or perhaps a combination of the two—seems to be the only real dispute, at least as far as descriptive olfactory qualities are concerned.
What reviewers disagree radically about is whether capturing the smell of suntan lotion—whether Coppertone or Bain de Soleil—is something that any perfume should really be doing. I'm inclined to answer "no" to that question, not because it is somehow wrong aesthetically, but because it seems stupid to pay big niche bucks for something one can find in a homely little blob of sun protectant. Fortunately FIRE ISLAND does not remain purely a suntan lotion facsimile throughout the duration of its life on my skin. I find that the neroli and tuberose mingling together with the musk end up producing a not unlikeable perfume in the drydown. But I must say that I'd rather skip the suntan lotion opening and, in fact, when it's hot outside, tiny wafts of those top notes continue to emanate off my skin.
In the end, FIRE ISLAND strikes me more as a novelty scent than a perfume, when all is said and sniffed, along the lines of some of the more literal vacation-ready offerings from the house of Comptoir Sud Pacifique. I would not choose to wear FIRE ISLAND as a perfume during any season but summer, though I suppose that it might offer a therapeutic escape during the depths of winter, if one were holed up all alone in the midst of a snowstorm.
What reviewers disagree radically about is whether capturing the smell of suntan lotion—whether Coppertone or Bain de Soleil—is something that any perfume should really be doing. I'm inclined to answer "no" to that question, not because it is somehow wrong aesthetically, but because it seems stupid to pay big niche bucks for something one can find in a homely little blob of sun protectant. Fortunately FIRE ISLAND does not remain purely a suntan lotion facsimile throughout the duration of its life on my skin. I find that the neroli and tuberose mingling together with the musk end up producing a not unlikeable perfume in the drydown. But I must say that I'd rather skip the suntan lotion opening and, in fact, when it's hot outside, tiny wafts of those top notes continue to emanate off my skin.
In the end, FIRE ISLAND strikes me more as a novelty scent than a perfume, when all is said and sniffed, along the lines of some of the more literal vacation-ready offerings from the house of Comptoir Sud Pacifique. I would not choose to wear FIRE ISLAND as a perfume during any season but summer, though I suppose that it might offer a therapeutic escape during the depths of winter, if one were holed up all alone in the midst of a snowstorm.
1 Comment
The Battle of Angel vs. La Rose
In the battle of Angel vs. La Rose, Angel has prevailed in ANGEL LA ROSE, a flanker explicitly claimed on its packaging to be a tribute to the unmistakeable, unforgettable—and, to me, utterly unwearable—ANGEL. To my nose, ANGEL is the perfumic equivalent of a garbage pizza. I am therefore relieved to be able to report that fully half of the notes which conspire to make ANGEL such a concoction have been edited away, leaving a luscious caramelized patchouli base to buoy the rose. Because the base is so strong, however, it really does drown out the floral quality of this composition, with the overall effect of the ANGEL base plus a few rose petals attempting with limited success to break through the wall of sweet patchouli.
In spite of its lack of subtlety, I like ANGEL LA ROSE. I regard this as a successful composition because it manages to capture the spirit of ANGEL while actually being enjoyable to wear—within the privacy of one's own home. Definitely not appropriate for the office or public transportation or any other hors de boudoir context which comes immediately to mind.
In spite of its lack of subtlety, I like ANGEL LA ROSE. I regard this as a successful composition because it manages to capture the spirit of ANGEL while actually being enjoyable to wear—within the privacy of one's own home. Definitely not appropriate for the office or public transportation or any other hors de boudoir context which comes immediately to mind.
1 Comment
Tap into your Inner Diva!
FRACAS is, to me, the queen of the diva-worthy perfumes. Unapologetic and insistent, even haughty, but with every right in the world, for she is a beauty indeed. This lush, seductive tuberose composition has extraordinary longevity and diva-worthy sillage. Nothing really compares to FRACAS. Well, except maybe MAHORA, the last great Guerlain perfume, IMNSHO, not coincidentally launched in Y2K, and now out of production, in perfect conformity with numerous other managerial blunders that have characterized and indeed caused the once-illustrious house's tragic Fall from glory. But I digress...
I find FRACAS simply exquisite and peerless among perfumes still in production—at least the ones familiar to me. This is a bona fide classic which retains and will retain its integrity (I have been assured of this by the surprisingly accessible management chez Robert Piguet).
So why, exactly, is this composition so good? My best guess is that FRACAS was created by a perfumer given the freedom to work unfettered by marketing data. It's not just the use of high-quality and exquisite materials, but the way in which they have been put together. It's easy to lose sight of this once important aspect of perfumery in a world in which niche launches proliferate like rabbits, many with top-notch notes, but no real inspiration behind them. I imagine the brainstorming that goes on at some of these houses, leading to composition by committee: “Let's make a fig perfume, and an oud, and we need a coffee, too.” The list goes on and on....
The greatness of FRACAS inheres in its coherence and complex synthetic unity, which most contemporary launches lack, having been hacked together rather haphazardly under pressure to put out as many new perfumes as quickly as possible, instead of taking the time needed to incubate and nurture a genuine work of art.
In the end, to wear FRACAS successfully, you must tap into your inner diva. The wearer must conquer the perfume through her own self-confidence and self-presentation, thus completing the work through contributing directly to its ability to cast a tantalizing spell.
I find FRACAS simply exquisite and peerless among perfumes still in production—at least the ones familiar to me. This is a bona fide classic which retains and will retain its integrity (I have been assured of this by the surprisingly accessible management chez Robert Piguet).
So why, exactly, is this composition so good? My best guess is that FRACAS was created by a perfumer given the freedom to work unfettered by marketing data. It's not just the use of high-quality and exquisite materials, but the way in which they have been put together. It's easy to lose sight of this once important aspect of perfumery in a world in which niche launches proliferate like rabbits, many with top-notch notes, but no real inspiration behind them. I imagine the brainstorming that goes on at some of these houses, leading to composition by committee: “Let's make a fig perfume, and an oud, and we need a coffee, too.” The list goes on and on....
The greatness of FRACAS inheres in its coherence and complex synthetic unity, which most contemporary launches lack, having been hacked together rather haphazardly under pressure to put out as many new perfumes as quickly as possible, instead of taking the time needed to incubate and nurture a genuine work of art.
In the end, to wear FRACAS successfully, you must tap into your inner diva. The wearer must conquer the perfume through her own self-confidence and self-presentation, thus completing the work through contributing directly to its ability to cast a tantalizing spell.
