Fragrance Bouquet’s Top 5 for Fall

What are you wearing this fall? Fragrance Bouquet and For the Love of Perfume are sharing their Autumnal loves for 2007 today. Are you going to stay and share your own loves with us? Have you brought out the big guns already? I am talking about the spices, of course! I’ll admit, I never really put them away – there’s always going to be a day when I need some spice in my life, even if it’s during high summer! Fall to me though, is all about woods and amber. Lovely warm notes that will ease me into winter and comfort me as the weather gets progressively colder. Now, without further ado, my personal top 5:

• 5. Sequoia 7 by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz
  It is worth to wait through the slightly shocking opening: the reward is finding one of the most beautiful wood-scents. A deeply satisfying soft, subtle and slightly aloof wood fragrance, that dries down to an unexpected smoky, incense-like clove. It is resilience against the winds of Fall; it is walking in a space of personal calm while the startlingly beautiful dry leaves swivel around, unable to fly any closer.



• 4. Palisander by Ava Luxe
  The thirst of the rich, dark soil quenched by rain. The golden brown leaves that will feed the trees that once bore them. A barefoot dance on the soft earth under a silver sky that hasn’t seen the sun in days. And then night-time, dark desires, bewitching female mysteries. The smell of heat. This has become a firm favorite, possibly the sexiest autumnal scent I have reviewed. Wearing it makes me just a bit more daring, as though I’m wearing pheromones. (For a full review click here)



• 3. Ambre Précieux by Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier
  Luxurious and warm, this is one of the most exquisite amber scents I know. Myrrh and myrtle, amber, precious balsams and resins and just a little bit of nutmeg to tamper the already gentle vanillic undertones, this fragrance smells as good as the notes sound. It is at once a warm embrace and a sway of the hips to a mystic melody of the east. Close your eyes and enjoy. Need I say more?



• 2. Miyako by Annayake
  You already know I love this! Ever since I bought it, it has been the perfume I turn to every time I need comfort. It does not cheer me up, it just hugs me, soothes me, helps me get on with things. Incense, resin, wood and amber infused with a soft milky accord and the peculiar, lovely sweetness I couldn’t possibly describe in a different way than I did in my original review: “(...) rather curious, reminding me of the subtly sweet and oh-so-comforting warm air one finds in a house, after a full day of baking spiced goods made of lovingly kneaded dough.” (For a full review click here)



• 1. Tsukimi by Annayake
  The loveliest autumn scent for me - I can’t do without it. Wearing it, I feel I’m bathed in gold, my forehead anointed with the most precious essences. Tsukimi’s effulgent aurora is as kind and mellow as the sun of autumn. (For a full review click here)

Autumn Don’ts: Or rather “Autumn don’t–even-think-about-its!”. I should have known better – I’ve yet to find a Van Cleef & Arpels fragrance I like- but for the sake of ...autumnal research I thought I’d get a sample of their Autumne scent, from their Les Saisons series. The notes sounded vaguely attractive, although far from special and the opening was agreeable enough. And then... disaster. Autumne smells like the chemicals of an epilating cream! This is not just an Autumn don’t – it is plainly a perfume don’t!

Images courtesy of www.freefoto.com

Forget me Not : Ivoire by Balmain

It’s the third Monday of the month and it is time for the first installment of Forget me Not, a monthly feature brought to you by Fragrance Bouquet and For the Love of Perfume. I wish I could offer some deep, meaningful justification on why I chose Ivoire by Balmain to be the first fragrance featured in this joint project, but I have to admit I cannot. It is not a choice that emerged after thoughtful contemplation, juxtaposing of reasons and ideals. It was instead what seemed like the only choice, for once I thought about this feature it was the first fragrance that came to mind and there it remained, with willful persistence. Despite my best efforts to veer into a different direction, it kept popping up in my thoughts in the same manner a pink elephant would, were I to try to banish all thoughts of pink elephants for the next five minutes. I have to add though, that I am deeply pleased with the fact that Ivoire enthroned itself in my thoughts and refused to leave, lest I sound like an unwilling participant. Ivoire does not deserve to sit on the bottom shelf – it deserves eye-level status in the shops that still carry it.

Its opening is soapy, effortlessly evocative of large soft hands washed with the most luxurious, ivory bar of soap. Cool, soothing and silky, these are the hands I wish to have holding my face when I need comfort. Even though the scent is clean and asexual at this stage, my mind’s eye interprets this as a paternal, caring touch. And even though the soft, clean smell of soap is so emphatic that I have trouble seeing it change to anything else, it is surprisingly ephemeral. Suddenly, not progressively, Ivoire intensifies, shedding its innocent purity. Like a chrysalis, it goes about its metamorphosis - from quiet simplicity to the complex beauty of an adult butterfly. It becomes free-spirited, fleeting and romantic at the same time: A young adult venturing into her first real love affair, still finding true commitment unthinkable. The purity and chastity of the soap now serves as a backdrop to the spicy green, intense interest of the labdanum. And as time passes by, we enter a world of florals, almost all soapiness passed by. A coming of age. Seduction is no longer clumsy, but deliberate, using all nature has to offer. Carnation holds court on a bed of assorted blooms, a scepter of black peppercorns in hand. The naturally redolent ylang-ylang plays a quieter, supporting role to its queen of choice, lovingly caressing the carnation’s dainty toes with its aromatic, golden tendrils. Muguet enhances the beauty of both with its truthful elegance. This time the change is more gradual. The florals are muted slowly, one by one, until only the memory of the carnation survives. It is strange that this, the last stage Ivoire enters is also its most intense. Unlike its inflorescence, it has refused to become muted. Instead, it grows in spirit, becoming the most beautiful mixture of earthiness, resin and moss. The moss is magnified, announcing like a Diva that this whole production was there for her to play the starring role. And this outrageous claim is actually not that hard to believe, gorgeous and glorious as she is. This drydown stage is very reminiscent of Ava Serena Franco’s own Moss fragrance, which I also love, by the way. And what has become of the emergent chrysalis, entering adulthood? She has learned how to seduce, but has she learned how to love with fervor? Perhaps she has indeed, but we will never know. Ivoire is not giving away the ending to that story, just a glimpse of a stage in her life. It is tantalizing, yet still aloof. It lacks the musk or leather that would make it a sexually active beast. But that’s alright by me: Ivoire remains a promise, a possibility. In my mind, there is no doubt that this is a fragrance that tells the story of resplendent youth – so eloquently it describes innocence and the tune a heart sings when it really falls in love for the first time. It is so optimistic, as though maturity and the responsibilities and consequences it brings with it are light years away. As far away in fact, as they indeed seem to youthful arrogance. For the cynics amongst us, this can be heartbreaking.

To see which perfume TMH has chosen for our Forget me Not Feature, please visit For the Love of Perfume.

Images Courtesy of: www.ycsznet.com, butterfly image from StarJem’s webshop on Etsy

Skin² by Ava Luxe : Perfume Review

Give me something that blurs the lines between the point where my own skin’s scent ends and the point where the fragrance itself begins and chances are I’ll love it. I passionately seek these fragrances out and it always gives me such a feeling of satisfaction when I find a new one to add to my collection. It comes as no surprise then, that when I found Ava Luxe a year or so earlier, the first fragrance I wished to sample was Skin². The blurb, which read “A wonderful classic skin musk scent. This is a clean and slightly powdery musk that blends with your natural skin scent and creates your own unique fragrance.” was simply irresistible. My expectations were so high, I was almost disappointed when my sample arrived. I was expecting the Holy Grail of skin-emulating scents; the skin scent that would end the search for any other once and for all. Of course, as any perfumista will confess, this is a futile aspiration: There is always something else to sniff. Hope springs eternal in the true perfume addict – there is always something else to sniff and who knows, it might be extraordinary, more extraordinary than last time. It is the search for the ultimate high, if not its darker twin, the search for the original high... But, as I was saying, the sample arrived and before I had the chance to be fully disappointed by the fact that it was not perhaps the One, I fell deeply in love. I placed an order for a full bottle the next day, without ever feeling the need for a second thought, for Skin² is, as it turned out, perfect.

There are so many things I find hard to pinpoint about this scent. One of them is why it feels so familiar, so comfortable. The first time I smelled it, I had this feeling of instant recognition, like meeting someone for the first time and having the feeling you’d met them before. The mind becomes confused, offering ridiculous explanations ranging from childhood occurrences to the even more unlikely memories belonging to the world of dreams. A year later, that peculiar feeling of deja vous is still there, but I can let go. Skin² and I have made our own memories together and they’ve slowly replaced the aimless search for something that is not really there. They are all beautiful memories – perhaps because it feels like nothing can go wrong when I wear this scent. Even though it is not what you’d call a “sunshine” scent, it is in my eyes wellbeing encapsulated. Its sense of comfort and balance is unparalleled, almost as though it works on a hormonal level. Or perhaps as though it contains positive energy. Describing how it smells without using the word musk over and over again is hard. I feel obliged to make it clear though –because the comparison has cropped up here and there in the past- that it does not smell anything like White Musk from The Body Shop nor like Alyssa Ashley’s Musk. Not by a longshot. I personally would say that it is in a way, clean and beautiful skin, but better. To fully appreciate it, one has to wait a while for it to warm up on the skin. It starts with a mind of its own, muskier, stronger than it will soon turn out to be. Then, sooner than you’d expect perhaps, it melds with the skin, becoming strictly personal, warmer, sensual. It is indeed slightly powdery, especially in the beginning, but at the same time very, very sexy. And then, there is this fascinating feeling of sweetness that never becomes full, just remains sheer, like an overall impression. Another thing that makes me fall in love with Skin² is the soft trace of what I interpret as the smell of a smooth spirit, like a very good, well-aged brandy. Which brings me to yet another thing I find hard to pinpoint about it... The peculiar sense of something vaguely woody in there, so minute that it can only be likened to a footprint in the sand, in the process of being erased by a gentle wave. I entertain the thought of the brandy again, aging for years in dark, wooden casks. These merest hints of something I cannot quite touch or explain still drive me crazy, like familiar words that have been jumbled beyond recognition. They are in all likelihood simpler than I make them out to be, I think to myself. But whatever they might be, I love them. As to whether this is my current holder of the Holy Grail of skin-emulating scents? No... But that’s a story for another day, isn’t it?

Image courtesy of http://specialoffers.starwoodhotels.com

Palisander by Ava Luxe : Perfume Review

Ina, over at Aromascope made a post some time ago which sparked a discussion on straightforward perfumes. As I stated at the time, I believe that straightforward, linear perfumes can sometimes be a blessing, because you do not have to think too much. Too, sometimes what you are looking for can only be satisfied by a simpler creation, without too much fuss around it. I know I personally have a number of such little loves at least. Although not all of Ava Serena Franco’s fragrances are linear (some are far more complex than I had imagined before trying them), a lot of them satisfy those cravings for a clean, straightforward blend. Her line is fun, the service is amazing and I often find myself visiting her website to order samples as a pick-me-up gift to myself that will invariably bring me a lot of pleasure when it arrives.

I woke up today planning to write a review of Incense Musk, in order to continue the theme of incense I started with Miyako, but when I visited the website I found that it has been discontinued. Not wanting to write another “you can’t have me” teaser, I first considered writing about Passage d’Enfer, but then I realized that in the process I had actually become more interested in writing about an Ava Luxe scent, than about an incense fragrance in general. After perusing my sample collection for a while I decided to settle on Palisander, a delightful autumnal scent, perfect for when the leaves turn copper and the wind starts baring wintry fangs.

Palisander, conversely one of the more complex Ava Luxe fragrances I have sampled, has a strange earthiness when it is first applied on the skin. An earthiness so strong in fact, that it manages to instantly evoke images of subterranean growth, roots of trees and fibers of plants growing deep in dark, rich soil. There are leaves there too, dropped on the forest floor. They have seen countless rains and are now laying there lifeless, wet, decomposing...Becoming one with the earth that bore them. As the oil warms on the skin, the earthy scent disappears, leaving almost no trace behind. It is replaced by a heavy, woody sweetness. When I originally sampled Palisander, six months or so ago, I found the first whiff of its sweetness frightening - I thought I might have to scrub it off immediately. I do sometimes experience an extreme sense of sweetness from some woody fragrances and essential oils and it is something I honestly can’t stomach. Thankfully, I decided to be brave and let it sit on my skin for a while and this was rewarded: I found that this time the sweetness is anything but nauseating. Yes, the initial entrance is rather grand and dramatic, but it quickly becomes obvious that it is not going to be overpowering: despite its headiness, this is a rather sheer sweetness, one that graciously agrees to dance instead of a solo, together with all the other elements of the blend, one after the other. It becomes a constant, which is at first partnered up with a strange, slightly medicinal freshness, a remnant of the erstwhile earthiness. Then later on, with sensuous amber which eradicates any sense of freshness there was still to be found and allows a beautiful, enveloping warmth to bloom on the skin...until finally, it becomes smoky; dark, intense and almost incense like. There is also something else there: after some hours of wear I find Palisander to take on a peculiar animalic quality; the smell of desire heating up a cold room in winter, like a glowing ember.

Images courtesy of: www.galeriabali.pl, www.csun.edu,

A La Nuit by Serge Lutens & Gardenia Rain by Ava Luxe : Perfume Reviews

I keep returning to Greece every summer. I begin my trip by going to the mountains and I end my vacation by going to an island, a different one each year. I revisit countless tastes and smells each time, tastes and smells that mean so much to me, intertwined as they are with colorful memories. I plan to visit many of those memories as I write this blog and I wish to start this journey with the white florals of summer, so abundantly found on the Greek terrain.

On each and every one of the islands I visit, jasmine is a constant nightly companion. Taking a walk in the night, whether that would be in the daedal, labyrinthine streets of a Cycladian island, or on the wider, more spacious streets of say, Lesbos or Syros, I’ve always ended up being unwittingly led by my nose at some point, following the magical redolence of its flowering vines. I usually don’t even manage to realize that it is the jasmine’s trail of scent that I am following, I just know that I have to reach the source. And I am left ensnared, peering in the darkness, until my eyes find it, in all its glory. Whether it’s hanging from an unassuming whitewashed wall, a broken down fence, or a majestically intricate old iron gate of a mansion, I’ll always stop and stare and hide my nose in its growth. I’ll twine my fingers in its vines and shake gently, to make the scent waft in a yet more heady cloud and stain my fingers with its essence. I’ll always cut a sprig and put it in my hair, then put it on my nightstand before I go to bed, so that I fall asleep with its scent next to my nose. In the morning, the magic will be gone, but that is not regretful. That is part of the jasmine’s thrill, she is the blooming queen of the night. With such a characteristic smell, one would think that someone would have captured the essence of the jasmine’s blooms earlier. But every perfume that proclaimed to bottle its scent has been failing miserably. The oils would be too strong, too pungent, too mellow; the sprays too fresh, acidic or soapy. But Serge Luten’s A la Nuit is just perfect. It’s jasmine in its truest form: seductive but soft, sweet but never overwhelming. It engulfs the wearer with the flower’s auspicious character. It makes one feel as though something beautifully romantic is bound to happen any minute now. It makes one feel young and feminine. I keep reminding myself I am not a florals-sort-of-person. I keep reminding myself I like my fragrances either strong, sexy and decisive or musky and comforting. I keep asking myself what in the world draws me to this creation. I guess the only adequate answer I can give is that A la Nuit is a true masterpiece. It has the power to turn the heathen into a believer. It is the only substitute there could ever be for the real thing.

Even though I’ll thoughtlessly and unrepentantly cut sprigs of jasmine for my hair, I reserve only the lightest touch for gardenias. I cannot resist lightly caressing the creamy-colored blooms in order to feel their leathery texture and it never fails to amaze me, how such a dense and fleshy flower can emanate such heady and rich aroma. I’d never so much think of cutting or mistreating one of those treasures. And treasures they are, as they are so hard to care for, and even healthy plants often fail to bloom. Gardenias won’t bloom in very hot environments and like moisture. The places that I find them in Greece thus are the mountainous villages I visit in the summer. It is common to see this amazingly beautiful flower planted in rusty, square iron boxes, which have been cut in half for this purpose. But this should not be mistaken for a Greek lack of appreciation for this flower. According to my grandmother, gardenias love rust. They ‘feed’ on it, she used to tell me when I was a child. You could please the gardenia even more by putting a rusty nail in the soil with it. Is this true? I don’t know, but if I ever tried to grow a gardenia I’d certainly be diligent in feeding it this treat, seeing how successful they are in Greece! Ava Serena Franco’s Gardenia Rain is a very successful rendition of the flower that always manages to take me back to a village, high up in the Greek mountains. It makes me feel I am in the shade of a plane tree, drinking a cool glass of water, enjoying the scent of the gardenia flowers around me, planted in their wonky iron pots. If you are looking for the smell of gardenias, don’t try Chanel’s version which smells nothing like it... Don’t even go for Gardenia Musk, a more soapy version by Ava-Luxe. Instead, try Gardenia Rain from the same line.


Pictures: Jasmine courtesy of www.hanini.org, gardenias courtesy of www.systbot.uu.se and rusty nail courtesy of waveofmodulation.typepad.org