Tag Archives: ylang-ylang

Tuberose Challenge: Bond No 9’s I Love New York Earth Day vs. Frederic Malle’s Carnal Flower

11 Apr

I did a side by side comparison of I Love New York Earth Day and Carnal Flower, since both are powerful green tuberose fragrances. I Love New York Earth Day is more homogeneous, exceedingly smooth, and the green aspect here is sweeter and translucent, though the fragrance overall is declarative and a great projector.

Pronounced as it is, Earth day has zero sharp edges and rough spots. It’s not even grounded next to Carnal Flower. It’s more like a luminous tuberose liquid, or something that hovers in the air.I find it to be an extremely wearable floral with great longevity, but after a time, something subtly generic/synthetic-smelling emerges in the base, which makes me lean in favor of Carnal Flower’s superior ingredients and crisp, articulated profile. Synthetic hues have no place in this particular green soliflore. Over time, the smooth elixir quality of Earth Day continues to sublimate into an ephemeral and relatively unremarkable state, while Carnal Flower retains its dimension and unwavering decisiveness.

Carnal flower is standing firmly planted on the ground: High heels, ballgown, and hand held way out in front of her to “yield”. Carnal Flower is majestic as #&%@! She’s compositionally layered and dynamic, multi-faceted, sweet, green, vibrant, sparkling, rich, and you can not sneak past her. She’s right in the middle of the cross-walk, with textural green elements containing an almost mentholated tinge. She warns you that you better wear her before she wears you; a challenge you gladly accept. She is daring you to dodge her, to get around her, but you know you’ll never succeed. Better just to surrender. Alright, Carnal Flower. Game over.. you win.


Officina Profumo-Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella: Melograno

28 Mar

I have been wearing Melograno for years but never attempted to describe it. It was gifted to me by a close friend and was one of the first fragrances I ever owned, so I was wearing it well before I understood doodly squat about thinking of fragrance in terms of classifications like chypres, note pyramids, and the idea of notes in the first place.

Instead I thought of all fragrances in terms of the colors they evoked in my head. Since then, I have learned a little more, so I’ll give it a shot. Melograno is no longer just the powdery opalescent white layered over burgundy fragrance it once appeared to be. Now when I smell it, I see rainbows. That may sound sentimental, but I really do.

Melograno opens with a sharp, spicy-green, soapy powder with a sweetish/bitter tinge. There is no “true to life” anything in Melograno. It doesn’t even smell like true to life baby powder, though the powder aspect is very prominent. The green is a dry, spicy green, not a lush verdant one; it’s very classic-smelling. The citrus is barely there in the top notes if at all. The rose/orris root is cool and soapy. The patchouli and vetiver are earthy and sweet, but run no risk of obscuring the other elements.

A trace of warmth comes through from the amber, ylang and tobacco, but this fragrance is so well blended and has so much dynamism that it really just IS. Though its notes are not so easy to separate, and are not “true to life”, they aren’t trying to be. Melograno smells like itself, and nothing else. It smells calm, wise and stern.

There is an entire world living inside Melograno, and in that respect I think it actually is very much like a pomegranate, though I am generally not too concerned with names and their accuracy. It fuses seamlessly with my own skin’s scent, but there is also so much complexity that I feel like I can peer into it and never get bored.

Melograno is like a woman who has seen it all. I could sit around admiring her all day.

All the pics From the Old Computer 1332

Chloe See by Chloe

28 Mar

See by Chloe  is the scent of a doll’s hair in a little girl’s bedroom. It’s the smell of the bin containing all of the clothing the little girl uses to play “dress-up”.

See by Chloe opens with powder, and artificial sweet tart apple, with a tiny shake of clean musk. …MMM… fake apples!

The end.

This is a warm, linear, powdery, very sweet, forgettable fragrance with excellent projection and exceptionally good longevity.

I could envision someone deciding to OWN this fragrance and making everyone she encounters associate it with her. The question is, do you want to be this person? Whoever wears this is gonna have to do the leg-work so to speak in terms of lending it character, because it really is nothing more than a sweet chunk of fake apples and powder.

Additionally, the quality of the fake apple scent is so opaque that I really can’t handle it after a while. If I needed something in this category, I would either head to Bath & Body Works and save a bunch of money, or I would save up my money and get a Kilian, since he seems to be all about the peachy, apple blossom frags, only with a much more delicate hand.

If you are especially attractive because you have an authentic uninhibited personality, leave this on the shelf. You can do so much better.

Red Flower Organic Perfume Champa

23 Mar

Champa has a sweet bitter floral aura. Floral Aura. Say that five times fast.

Like fellow blogger Sherapop, I can not discern a whole lot in the way of individual notes, but I can pull out geranium essential oil, palmarosa, and something like sweet orange. When I exhale, there is a strange oily note sort of like petroleum jelly.

Champa is simultaneously smooth, sweet, earthy, balsamic, and sharp. It is very well blended, though in terms of its composition, it leaves me with some unanswered questions. Thank you to the lovely people at Red Flower for the sample.

Champa’s floral mixture conjures up a round shape and orange-yellow hue for me, but it also has a sinus-tingling potency from some of its bitter notes that makes me think it would repel insects.

It reminds me of Nature’s plethora of compelling warning signals, reminding potential enemies that it’s as deadly as it is pretty. It lasts quite a while but it does not project very far. However, something tells me insects can somehow smell this from miles away.

Champa seems like it was intended to be more of a functional fragrance than an aesthetic one. I get this sensation with quite a few (but definitely not all) essential oil-blend all natural-type fragrances.

Sweet orange, earthy bitter geranium, palmarosa, and Vaseline? This is not a bad scent and it gets the job done.. What that job specifically IS remains to be seen. I’ll try it again in mosquito season. I’m not joking. Mosquitoes love me.

Tom Ford Black Orchid

26 Feb

Tom Ford Black orchid starts with a pink/purple puff of sweet air like a whiff of a sweet chemical bi-product from an unknown location in Newark, New Jersey. It makes you think of vapor from the runoff from some sort of fragrance factory where super sweet fragrances are bottled. You try to figure out which direction the wind is blowing…

Just then, WHAM, you get hit in the face with a tire swing. Somewhat stunned, you stagger backward, touching your nose carefully to see if blood is streaming out, and when you find to great relief, that you didn’t get injured, you notice that the “pink wind” doesn’t smell nearly as off-putting as when you first noticed it.

It even smells a little like chocolate sandwich cookies with vanilla creme filling and flowers mixed with rubber and burning chemicals, kind of compelling in a strange way. Then you worry that you might be concussed.

Black Orchid is a mysterious fragrance. It is standing outside, trying to take cues from the scents surrounding you, and failing.

It’s an overcast day, when the sky is an impenetrable grey, but you can’t tell for the life of you whether the cloud cover is normal water vapor or pollution.

The longer I wear it, the more I like it, but it is beautiful in the way an industrial landscape is beautiful. Scary, majestic, and so unapologetically man-made, that it commands awe.
Literally awe-some.

M. Micallef Ananda

21 Feb

Ananda begins with the soft perfumed fruit scent of a babysitter’s hair.

It is an inoffensive though synthetic impression of pear and it is soft, very delicate, and feminine. It is sugary sweet, powdery and tart with citrus and currant. There is nothing remotely visceral about it as with other pears that have a pulpy, over-ripe pungency to them. This is a young innocent woman wearing pear in a gently lit children’s room.

The rose makes this fragrance slightly green, but as the fragrance wears on, the vanilla musk/mimosa in the base takes a gentle powdery control over the tart green notes, and only the synthetic silhouette of the pear lingers. Despite the sweetness, the soft delicacy of the dry down ensures that this fragrance never becomes cloying, if applied with reasonable discrimination.

Though it eventually turns into quite an easy and soothing skin scent, there is nothing overtly memorable in the conclusion to Ananda. The babysitter is warm, pleasant, and comforting, but in a few years you will forget her name, her face, and even the scent of her hair.

Tasha Pilot-Slow

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