Sniff Fest - Neil Morris Fragrances
7 years ago
So happy to discover this niche purveyor of high quality scents, who is also a member here. An appreciative nod to him as I sniff my way through his Signature Collection Parfums, and a few additions.
First, to those who haven't tried them, these are artfully-composed perfumes that will not cause sneezing, asphyxiation, or make your eyes water unless you happen to be allergic to a specific ingredient. Like great perfumes, they project and last. This line also has a personality. Think earthy, resinous base notes, haunting floral absolutes, and unexpected replications of natural phenomena, like rain. Though, to my nose, Neil Morris fragrances are unique, together they bring Slumberhouse to mind. I plan to own every Slumberhouse ever made, whether or not I can personally wear them. I thnk they are that incredible — scent experiences not to be missed. How do Neil's compare? Very well indeed, displaying an equal artistry—genius at work at the perfume organ with a little of D.S. & Durga's regional flair. To me, some are an acquired taste, like several from Slumberhouse, yet I don't just admire the ones of Neil's I like, I adore them. IMO, only the last two Slumberhouses are very wearable, particularly the spectacular New Sibet. Of the 7 Neil Morris's I've sampled, three I have to own immediately, if not sooner. I'll start with them and hubby's favorite, Aegean.
Aegean
If the Aegean doesn't smell like this, it ought to—citrus, sandalwood, musk, lavender combine with quince and basil blossom to evoke the fresh outdoors when at seaside. Getting it for hubby's birthday
Afire
This made me forget about my yearning for Mary Greenwell's completely unavailable (TMK) Fire. Unsuccessfully I searched for it, hoping it would be similar to nearly unavailable (and, IMO, stunning) Amouage Tribute Attar. Hard to explain why my brain has made connections between these three. Apparently they only share Frankincense for sure, possibly some citruses and woods. Yet when I sniff from my dwindling sample of Tribute and my newly-arrived one of Afire, I no longer mourn the loss of Tribute as much.
Aptly named, Afire starts out like a house afire, smoldering up my nose and into the surrounding air—taking possession of the olfactory space as if a few Las Vegas showgirls, eating cotton candy, just rode in on the backs of lions. What a fragrance! I lost my mind immediately, just as I recently did over Bogue's achievement, Gardelia. Somehow to my brain the caramel/berry heart of Afire mimics Tribute's intense floral/leathery appeal. They're not the same, of course, but for me these two have the same effect — an exuberant desire to apply them unstintingly.
Rainflower
Freesia ups the ante on this marvelous floral, grounded in musk. Caught in the rain in a field of flowers, my feet muddy, seeking shelter from approaching lightening, this is what I'd expect to smell. It is a must-have, earthily sweet, joyful fragrance.
Summer of love
Moaning began at first sniff of this animalic scent, civilized by Freesia, Patchouli and Cedar and I am back in a long-ago garden pool, a bee landing on the palm of my hand but not stinging. Trois Gymnopedie No. 1 is playing from the house and I think I will l never forget this garden, the deep purple of the pool, these flowers — and I never do. This fragrance is likely to take you back to your own summer of love, or conjure one for you. I find it brilliant—sensuous, passionate, and not remotely crass.
Kudos to Neil Morris. I expect to find more loves among his creations.
To be continued …
First, to those who haven't tried them, these are artfully-composed perfumes that will not cause sneezing, asphyxiation, or make your eyes water unless you happen to be allergic to a specific ingredient. Like great perfumes, they project and last. This line also has a personality. Think earthy, resinous base notes, haunting floral absolutes, and unexpected replications of natural phenomena, like rain. Though, to my nose, Neil Morris fragrances are unique, together they bring Slumberhouse to mind. I plan to own every Slumberhouse ever made, whether or not I can personally wear them. I thnk they are that incredible — scent experiences not to be missed. How do Neil's compare? Very well indeed, displaying an equal artistry—genius at work at the perfume organ with a little of D.S. & Durga's regional flair. To me, some are an acquired taste, like several from Slumberhouse, yet I don't just admire the ones of Neil's I like, I adore them. IMO, only the last two Slumberhouses are very wearable, particularly the spectacular New Sibet. Of the 7 Neil Morris's I've sampled, three I have to own immediately, if not sooner. I'll start with them and hubby's favorite, Aegean.
Aegean
If the Aegean doesn't smell like this, it ought to—citrus, sandalwood, musk, lavender combine with quince and basil blossom to evoke the fresh outdoors when at seaside. Getting it for hubby's birthday
Afire
This made me forget about my yearning for Mary Greenwell's completely unavailable (TMK) Fire. Unsuccessfully I searched for it, hoping it would be similar to nearly unavailable (and, IMO, stunning) Amouage Tribute Attar. Hard to explain why my brain has made connections between these three. Apparently they only share Frankincense for sure, possibly some citruses and woods. Yet when I sniff from my dwindling sample of Tribute and my newly-arrived one of Afire, I no longer mourn the loss of Tribute as much.
Aptly named, Afire starts out like a house afire, smoldering up my nose and into the surrounding air—taking possession of the olfactory space as if a few Las Vegas showgirls, eating cotton candy, just rode in on the backs of lions. What a fragrance! I lost my mind immediately, just as I recently did over Bogue's achievement, Gardelia. Somehow to my brain the caramel/berry heart of Afire mimics Tribute's intense floral/leathery appeal. They're not the same, of course, but for me these two have the same effect — an exuberant desire to apply them unstintingly.
Rainflower
Freesia ups the ante on this marvelous floral, grounded in musk. Caught in the rain in a field of flowers, my feet muddy, seeking shelter from approaching lightening, this is what I'd expect to smell. It is a must-have, earthily sweet, joyful fragrance.
Summer of love
Moaning began at first sniff of this animalic scent, civilized by Freesia, Patchouli and Cedar and I am back in a long-ago garden pool, a bee landing on the palm of my hand but not stinging. Trois Gymnopedie No. 1 is playing from the house and I think I will l never forget this garden, the deep purple of the pool, these flowers — and I never do. This fragrance is likely to take you back to your own summer of love, or conjure one for you. I find it brilliant—sensuous, passionate, and not remotely crass.
Kudos to Neil Morris. I expect to find more loves among his creations.
To be continued …
Last edited by ScentFan on 09.07.2017, 15:52; edited 3 times in total