Dark Season & Gotham by Neil Morris : Perfume Reviews

It’s Friday, which means we have reached the last day of Neil Morris reviews here on Fragrance Bouquet. I am closing this week -which has been incredible fun by the way- with a review of my personal favorite, Gotham. For those of you who have already tried Neil’s perfumes, I have a question: Which one is your favorite and why? There are still a number of perfumes by Neil I really want to try and top of my list are October and Midnight Tryst. I hope I get to review those here on Fragrance Bouquet soon as well.

Dark Season:

I won’t lie to you: There’s something about Dark Season’s opening that I find deeply perturbing. There’s this almost fluid bitter core, surrounded by strange sweetness. There’s something almost medicinal and a strange body scent, I can’t ignore. There’s this mustiness that makes me feel as though I am all alone in a dark old house, rummaging around for some unfathomable reason... And then I open a drawer that creaks with resistance. It is wooden and empty, but it contains all the mustiness of an unaired tiny space and scent-memories of the various objects held in the past. My heart beats faster, anxiously. I need to get past it, for underneath I smell beautiful sweet spice and I so want to reach it... Patience. Patience for five or ten minutes, no more. And then comfort. The sweet, soothing scent of cinnamon washes it all away.

Candles are lit all at once and the old house is bathed in warm light. I’m glad I waited, every single time. Dark Season transforms into a beautiful oriental scent, perfect for keeping you warm in cold weather. Dark Season whispers of winter holidays, crisp cold air that makes the cheeks go red, happy smiles and joyful hearts as friends get ready to come together under one roof, in a house glowingly inviting. A house which smells sweetly of cinnamon and vanilla. Balancing the light, spicy sweetness, there are decorations of pine needless, smelling fresh, green and pure. Their branches are oozing sticky resin: a strong note with a sticky feel that lances through the composition from beginning to end and makes it positively addictive. But what I admire most about Dark Season, and what keeps me returning to my little sample is the cinnamon. As with clove and carnation, it is a note that can quickly become too thick and overbearing. Too obtrusive, if you will. But Dark Season’s cinnamon is simply perfect. Sweet, light, magical and sheer. It feels like it’s almost sparkling. The overall feeling of this perfume is warming, and as is the case with most of the Neil Morris scents I’ve so far tried, comforting. It has this beautiful ability to form an aura around the wearer, sweet and spicy smelling, rounded and deep, that can be gently smelled from a few feet away, inviting others to come ever closer to find the source. If I’m honest, I’ll admit that this fragrance has made me once again long for cold weather, and believe me, that’s quite a feat. I am SO ready for summer!


Gotham:

I’ve saved the best for last. From all the Neil Morris perfumes I’ve so far smelled, this is my absolute favorite. Every time I wear Gotham, I have the pleasure to see a different side of it, a different manifestation of its beauty. At times it’s all about the flowers, at times it’s all about its animalic base, at times it’s all about the leather. This is not only absolutely gorgeous, it is absolutely timeless. This is exactly the type of fragrance I favor: a “yes Mistress” perfume. Don’t laugh! This is all polished hair, immaculate attire, impossible yet utterly chic heels and... a whip. Cruel seduction, where the coolness of ice meets the heat of the flame. If I could choose only one word to describe this fragrance, it would be ‘magnificent’. The opening is an assault of the senses with a blast of seductive pepper and sparkling citrus. A period of reasonable, deceptive calm follows: a beautiful accord of narcissi and hyacinths that starts out smooth but soon intensifies in the most hypnotic manner. From incredibly floral and ladylike, Gotham soon goes dark and mysterious: A thorny rose scent, whose aroma is accentuated and deepened by the green scent of galbanum. And soon, our diva readies for the kill: the animalic base becomes all the more apparent with notes of musks and leather and even though I’ve never seen a mention of civet in the official notes, I swear I smell its warm pungency rising from my skin. Instant glamour. Instant Sex. Just add red lipstick. Diamonds are optional.

Images: www.imageafter.com and Flickr, originally uploaded by “Lady K!!”

Tsukimi by Annayake : Perfume Review

Since I promised to start with Hanami and Tsukimi, I will unorthodoxly suspend a review of the second seasonal fragrance, Natsumi, to write about Tsukimi. The third fragrance in the seasonal quartet of the Annayake fragrance line, Tsukimi, means Moon Viewing. It embodies the spirit of autumn and is meant to represent a woman who is radiant, devoted to tradition and family. This characterization might sound a bit archaic to western, individualistic societies, but this is most certainly not how it would be viewed in the Japanese collectivist culture. Keeping with tradition, Japanese tradition specifically, is a great virtue, and such a woman will be revered, like a precious flower that is never to be sullied, corrupted by unworthy elements. She will be the most attractive ray of light, sought after like a rare, incandescent jewel. She is the woman with the magical ability to bring out the best in the most contemptible of men; she is the bringer of redemption. Her radiance is an eternal, ever-giving spring. Everything she comes into contact with will be blessed by her virtue and beauty, enabled to shine a bit brighter each time for it came to be in the presence of her unyieldingly pure kindness.

Annayake places this woman in the setting of the Harvest Moon. Moonviewing, just as Hanami, flowerviewing, is a tradition that originated in China and was embraced by the Japanese court initially, before spreading to the masses during the Edo era. It is the time of year when farmers harvest the last crops and offer thanks to the moon. It is the time of year to come together with family, friends and loved ones to admire the beauty of the moon, to put seasonal offerings next to the moonlit window and to celebrate togetherness under the silvery lunar rays. The Tsukimi woman will go meet her lover on a hill, to hold his awaiting hand, to bathe in the moon’s light with him under the starry sky. She will be the joy of her family, an emblem of the continuation of tradition. A tradition that might be sadly, slowly fading.

Tsukimi reminds me in many ways of Féminité du Bois by Shisheido, which is not very surprising since they share a lot of the same notes. But having smelled Tsukimi, Féminité du Bois now almost seems aggressive and harsh. The top citrusy notes fly off quickly and leave the skin enveloped in the intensely woody, ambery veil of the fragrance. There is also the scent of lovely, smoky incense there, making the experience all the more interesting. Cumin haters beware, for this is a note that plays a prominent role in this perfume. It blends marvelously with cinnamon, sunflower, violet and precious woods, in a manner that makes me think of fine, viscous oils of anointment. Despite the intense notes, the overall feel of Tsukimi is that of calm sweetness, warm, effusively graceful and heart-achingly nostalgic. It stays relatively close to the skin, making one gently emanate a softly perfumed, filmy aura, like the golden body of a saint, streaming myrrh.

Pictures courtesy of: wikimedia.org, yuanryan.ld.infoseek.co.jp and www.saryou-sakura.com