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

Yukimi by Annayake : Perfume Review

When I was a child, time seemed to stand still. Each season was endless, each year lasted a decade. As I grow older, seasons seem to come and go in the most fleeting of manner, each one melding quickly into the next, a year gone in the blink of an eye. So have the seasons of Annayake passed before our eyes and we have invariably arrived to the last one, the longest stretch of the year, Winter.

Yukimi means “snowviewing”, and once again, the name bestowed upon this fragrance fits the composition wonderfully. I’ve never experienced coolness and warmth blending at once with such effortlessness, with no sense of dissonance whatsoever. And what is perhaps most curious is the overwhelming sense of quietness and stillness that this fragrance delivers.
It is the same sense of quietness I experience when I wake up in the morning with the unwavering certainty that it has snowed the night before, for every single sound in nature is eerily muffled. I love mint in fragrances, and its addition in Yukimi is utter perfection, boldly announcing crisp cool winds and steely light. The fruit in the blend quickly brings me back inside the warmth of the house, where mother is throwing rinds of mandarin oranges and peels of apples in the lit fireplace, thereby scenting the air with festive aromas. Cool musks, cedar and soft powder, enveloped by the warmest of amber, enfold me in a bubble no sound can fully penetrate. They form a safe cocoon, offering protection from over-stimulation and the demands of adulthood. Time stands still again, affording me the luxury of reflection.

The woman that will gladly dance among the falling snowflakes, the woman this perfume is meant for, is rare, uncustomary. She is a self-assured innovator. It is not by chance that my mind places her dancing in winter wonderland. Even though she is a grown up, her essence is that of a child. She sparkles, full of joie de vivre. For her, time will still bend, making every season last a lifetime, just so she can suck every single drop of life out of every single day. When snow falls, she’ll still try to catch snowflakes on her tongue. When she goes to bathe in a hot spring up on the hill, she hopes to encounter macaque monkeys, completely unafraid. When she walks home at night, she’ll stop to marvel at the light twinkling inside the stone snow-viewing lanterns, yukimi-gata – even though she has seen them countless times before. Her laughter is crystaline and clear, like snow melting on the first days of spring. Her perfume of choice is subdued, to counter and contrast her playful character. Her perfume is that of innocence and clarity, quiet happiness and sweetness. She chooses something that blurs the lines between her own sweet skin’s scent and the perfume itself. She chooses Yukimi, scenting her neck with a childhood her body has outgrown.

Pictures courtesy of: www.japaneselifestyle.com.au, www.japonia.org and www.hikejapan.com

Burberry by Burberry : Perfume Review

Last night an email prompted me to prepare a skin scent review for today. I wanted to challenge myself by picking something I do not personally wear and I thought I had the perfect contender in my samples drawer: Murmure by Van Cleef & Arpels. Such a misleading name... The darned thing was nothing short of a scream, a foghorn in the dead of the night! Disappointed, I decided to fall back on a well-known friend instead: Burberry by Burberry.

In a series of puzzling marketing moves, the perfume released in 1995 and originally known as Burberry was subsequently renamed Burberry London, only to have its name changed once again recently to plain old Burberry when the new Burberry London scents were released by the British fashion house. The folly of those moves becomes especially apparent when one considers than not all online listings have been brought up to speed with the changes, resulting in considerable confusion. Fans of the fragrance have affectionately dubbed it Burberry Classic, or less eloquently in times of exasperation, as “the one in the pebble shaped bottle”. This is not an undeserving description of the flacon. It is indeed very reminiscent of a large pebble, not only in shape, but also in weight and feel. Its smooth surface fills the palm of one hand very adequately and its substantial weight somehow turns the process of application into a simple luxury, if only because of the slight extra effort one has to exert when using it. It is not a bottle you can just pick up for a quick spray and then drop back onto your dressing table thoughtlessly, and it is this that forces application to be more thoughtful than usual even in the most casual of perfume wearers. The masculine stopper and the simple lines of the flacon set the stage for the clean luxury of the perfume itself.

It all begins with almost effervescent, sparkling fruit. Mouthwatering peach and apricot shine brightly with the addition of fresh mint and brisk bergamot. Despite the full-bodied appeal of these fruits, Burberry always remains rather dry even at the top of its development, with the helpful combination of apple and tagetes. Even though I am not a fan of fruit notes generally speaking, Burberry is one of the few examples that brings out a different aspect of how fruit can be done and manages to get it right for me. It is the dryness of this fragrance that always keeps me interested and intrigued, explored further with the addition of geranium and cedar in the middle notes. Together with sandalwood, musk and amber, these notes conspire to make this fragrance intensely powdery. The end result feels completely parched of any moisture; it is a sheer powder that covers the skin with comfortable cleanness, warmed by a generous dollop of bourbon vanilla. It adheres to the body like a second skin, blurring the lines between one’s own personal scent and the fragrance itself. It is at once comforting and sensual, classy and familiar, like the bosom of a sexy, curvaceous woman in a cashmere sweater. In fact Cashmere would have been the most apt name for this perfume in my oppinion, done so much better than Cashmere by Chopard. While on the subject of perfume comparisons,
Skin by Trussardi smells very, very similar to Burberry, but it is far inferior and nowhere near as dry. Speaking of which, it is still early days, but I do wish to start archiving these reviews at some point – and aside from the more obvious house-name archiving, I would also like to make a perfume-alikes / comparisons link. Something to look forward to in the future.

Pictures courtesy of www.amazon.com, www.dann-online.com and www.duon.de respectively.

Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan : Perfume Review

It is not surprising to me that Cashmere Mist was released in 1994, the same year CK One was introduced. The market was ripe for perfumes that were clean, unobtrusive and almost asexual – perfect matches for the heroin-chic, boyish figures that were advertising clothes at the time. Although admittedly more feminine than CK One, and a good deal more interesting than L’Eau d’Issey, Cashmere Mist is very much a child of its time. Even so, I only discovered it recently and I have to admit it, it was love at first sniff. There is something incredibly comforting about this scent, so aptly named. It smells like clean, powdery skin, skin that is begging to be caressed. It is an abstract concoction that responds so sensitively to my chemistry that it manages to smell slightly different each time. It is a skin scent whose character is always dry; it never smells sweet, despite its soft jasmine and muguet blend. The musk and iris combine beautifully and feature prominently throughout the development, making it powdery and soft from the beginning. And what makes it most special is the gentle, well-worn suede note that is ever so soothing, as well as tame, which I appreciate, since most strong leathers overwhelm me. Cashmere Mist elicits strange memories in my mind, that play like a fast-forwarded flashback scene in a movie: the Noxema roll-on deodorant my mother used to use when I was a child, a visit at the doctor’s when I was a kid – the scent wafting from the clinically clean female doctor comforting me as she laid a hand on my head, clothes straight out of the dryer on a snowy winter’s morning, fast-forward, fast-forward to pictures constructed from the media, colorful Lacoste polo shirts above tiny, blindingly white tennis skirts on a sunny spring day. The smell that fits innocence before adrenarche... and yet, warm flesh wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe on Sunday morning, a scent worn for one’s lover just to say: “I want to have coffee in bed with you”. I did not mean to turn this review into an exercise of freestyle stream of consciousness method, but somehow I found myself compelled to record the strange associations this fragrance elicits in me. After discovering this perfume, I had to rush out and buy it, I find it so charming and well made. I do not regard it as simple, even though it can appear deceptively so. Some have described it as “mumsy” and “old”. If you agree with this statement but have somehow found yourself stuck with a bottle for one reason or the other, here’s a suggestion: Layer it with a tiny bit of Fracas. The end result is very cheerful.

Picture of Cashmere throw courtesy of www.wise4living.com. The limited edition flacon of Cashmere Mist was sourced from www.donnakaranbeauty.com where it is currently available for purchase, with the designer’s signature.