Ineke Angel’s Trumpet

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Angel’s Trumpet was the second in the scent library sampler that I got a while ago and only just got around to now.

Angel's Trumpet

Angel’s Trumpet

In Bottle: Light and green with a refreshing melon note and a nice floral finish.

Applied: Gentle and green like it was in the bottle, the melon provides a pleasant freshness to the scent more akin to a sweet aqua note than an obnoxious candy melon note. The florals come in during the midstage (and they come in rather quickly) with a soft layer of orange and spice and an agreeable clean cedar. Angel’s Trumpet is a touch of a fragrance, very lilting and smooth and clean at the end. It’s all white florals and white musk with a bit of green and clean added in. Overall nice and very wearable.

Extra: I really need to get on my game and put in my order for a full size of one of these scents. I am still with Sweet William on this one, but Angel’s Trumpet is also quite beautiful. I wish the coupon that had come in the sampler worked on the smaller travel versions.

Design: Similar look to Sweet William, I’m rather attracted to the soft golden color of this design, it’s bright and happy and gentle at the same time.

Fragrance Family: Floral

Notes: Orange, melon, green notes, angel’s trumpet, cinnamon, allspice, cedar, white musk.

Angel’s Trumpet is a pleasant fragrance, but I don’t find it particularly memorable. It’s lovely, of course, but there’s nothing about it that stands out to me.

Reviewed in This Post: Angel’s Trumpet, 2013, Eau de Parfum.

Hermes Un Jardin En Mediterranee

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I’ll be the first to admit that I know nothing about the Mediterranean. I’ve never been, and won’t be for quite some time. Though from all that I’ve seen, heard, read and apparently, smelled, it is a lovely place. Hermes’ version of the Mediterranean, as they’ve declared, tries to capture the concept of the cool, watery, light aura.

Un Jardin En Mediterranee

Un Jardin En Mediterranee

In Bottle: Citrus, green and full with a light refreshing feel to it.

Applied:  Light citrus lots of juiciness in the opening and quite green and pleasant. I like how light handed, Un Jardin En Mediterranee starts off. It falls a little in the mid-stage, floating a floral my way very briefly before it settles into this thick cypress and cedar fragrance with a bit of green kick. This is a fragrance, I imagine wearing if I had an excess of flowing dresses and a beautiful garden behind my historical estate. As it is, wearing it while hunched over my work computer and contemplating its intricacies at a ridiculous hour makes me feel a bit uncomfortable. Like this isn’t the fragrance for me. It smells pleasant enough. Light, green, citrus and cypress and the cedar isn’t too bothersome either. It just doesn’t seem like it meshes with me in general.

Extra: Developed by Jean Claude Ellena, Mediterranee is a part of a collection. Others in this collection include Un Jardin Sur Le Toit and Un Jardin Sur Le Nil.

Design: Lovely, simple Hermes design. I’m a sucker for the specific colors they chose to do this series in. Would look great lined up in a row.

Fragrance Family: Fresh Floral

Notes: Orange, lemon, bergamot, oleander, orange blossom, fig leaf, cypress, cedar, musk, juniper.

I got into gardening over the past year, having moved somewhere that experiences more months of non-winter than “two” and discovered how fascinating growing and tending to plantlife is. It’s a real shame that I apparently have a brown thumb and maybe that’s why Mediterranee makes me feel like a fraud :-D.

Reviewed in This Post: Un Jardin En Mediterranee, 2003, Eau de Parfum.

Petrochemicals and Perfume

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So something that’s bothered me a lot in recent years is hearing people complain about petrochemicals in their perfumes and how, since these chemicals are in fragrances, the fragrances must therefore be bad for you.

I’m sure when you say “petrochemicals” to someone, the first thing they’ll think of is either a barrel of oil or gasoline. Then if you link perfume to that word, people will probably imagine dabbing what amounts to unleaded gasoline on their necks and wrists. Of course, it doesn’t help when a tiny local news outlet builds on this misconception with a delightful morning segment they lovingly called, “Are Perfumes Poisoning You?”

So, are perfumes or, rather, are the petrochemicals in perfumes poisoning you? No.

Here’s the thing with petrochemicals, they’re in a lot of things and not just in perfumes. Nor are they in any significantly large quantities in perfumes compared to something like–say, a plastic bucket. I’m not a scientist and don’t pretend to be, but my understanding of petrochemicals is that they’re used in the manufacturing of a lot of products. From things you might expect like plastics, computers, electronics and furniture. Then there are the things I didn’t expect like in medicine. Then there are the cosmetics, which see a lot of petrochemical use as for a large variety of reasons.

See, the thing with petrochemicals is, you really are fighting a losing battle if you want to avoid them. If you’re on the internet, reading this post then chances are, you had to touch a petrochemical product at some point seeing as computers are made of the stuff. Heck, the chair you might be sitting in is made out of it. Perhaps even the clothes you’re wearing, or the soap you use.

When we think about how many products with petrochemicals in them or were made out of petrochemicals that we use, the numbers are really mind-boggling. I could cast my eyes around the room I’m sitting in right now and I’d actually have a harder time finding something that didn’t have a petrochemical in it or wasn’t manufactured using petrochemicals.

Years ago, a friend and I were exploring “healthy” alternatives to big brand cosmetics. We were teenagers, barely into college. We liked cosmetics though. Having read something or seen something somewhere, my friend informed me of all the toxins inside of the big brand cosmetics we were using. We promptly swore off of them and looked high and low for alternatives–the more natural the better.

Eventually, we found an all natural cosmetics line that boasted no preservatives for health-conscious individuals. The packaging was cute, done up in pastels and greens to really drive home that “nature” thing. I decided to ditch my big brand stuff and go for the natural line. Because hey, I was young, I loved make-up but I didn’t want to damage my body over it. With some of the things they say, it’s really no surprise that people become alarmed. I’ve heard everything from, “it’s an allergen” to “it causes seizures”.

Long story short, a few months later and I had the worst acne in my life and my skin was horribly dry. My friend didn’t fare that much better. It seemed the longer I tried using the natural stuff, the worse my skin got. I’m not saying every natural alternative product will do this to people. A lot of individuals use these products to great success. But making my skin dry and break out was what it did to me, and that could be because my skin just didn’t mesh well with the product.

I stopped using the natural stuff. The acne went away, the dryness got better too–but I was still out a lot of money and very disappointed that my foray into no-preservative cosmetics was a disaster. It also took a really long time to get my skin back to normal. I went back to the big brands after that. Almost a decade later and my face is still intact so I guess those petrochemicals aren’t that bad for me after all.

The thing is, when I look back at the reasons why I tossed my cosmetics and jumped on the natural bandwagon was because I was afraid of something horrible happening to me. It took a while for me to realize that people have used petrochemical products for decades or even longer and a great deal of them are perfectly fine. How much does the use of petrochemicals in our every day lives really affect us? And does it matter to me that much in the end?

How long do I expect to live if I swore off all the stuff that I enjoy because someone, somewhere (of questionable credentials, I might add) told me that it was bad for me because it’s not “nature made”? And do I really want to be around that long even after I gave up everything I like to do it? All I really know is that my face is fine and it’s been layered in petrochemical containing products a lot over the years. I’m still kicking and I’ve used perfumes almost daily for a while now. I also sometimes eat out of plastic bowls, drink out of plastic cups, sat on, laid on, stood on plenty of petrochemical-containing materials and I don’t think I’m any worse for wear.

Some more interesting read for those concerned with ingredients in their cosmetics:
Lucas from Chemist in the Bottle on Parabens
Perfume Shrine on the Demonization of Perfume
Chemist Corner on Companies Caving to Fearmongering

Ineke Sweet William

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I was wowed into trying Sweet William from seeing its packaging. There are two things I can’t resist (okay, there’s actually  a lot of things I can resist, but these are the two I can think of right now) 1) perfume, 2) books. You slap those two things together and you might as well just take my money right now.

Sweet William

Sweet William

In Bottle: Sweet William opens with a sweet and spicy peach with a smooth application of clove.

Applied: The fragrance goes on so light and sweet and pretty that I feel like putting on a flowery dress and frolicking in some random fields. The peach is so uncandy-like (thank goodness!) that it almost verges on a spicy orange opening. Sweet William is girly with a dose of spice to make sure it’s not all silliness and has a little bit of sophistication as well. The mid-stage is a sweet carnation with a soft beautifully done sandalwood and vanilla waft. Its dry down marks no sharp notes, no stray and misused cedar or patchouli at all. It’s a lovely, soft, warm spicy woods. Just lovely!

Extra: Sweet William by Ineke is a part of a limited edition collection of scents called Floral Curiosities. The packaging is adorable, and I was delighted to find that the sampler collection comes in what appears to be a book.

Design: The bottle itself is fairly similar to other Ineke 75mls, packaged in a lovely box and looking very nice. I have to shamefully admit that I would rather get the travel spray just because it’s packaged in another adorable book box. I’m a little obsessed with this packaging, you see.

Fragrance Family: Woodsy Spicy Floral

Notes: Peach, cinnamon, clove, carnation, sandalwood, cedar, patchouli, vanilla.

At the time of this writing, I haven’t yet tried the other fragrances that come with the sampler (I highly recommend giving this a try, especially if you’re looking for something outside of the standard department store fare for someone extra special), but I’m already delighted enough with Sweet William that I wonder what the others will be like. If nothing else, the beautifully done Sweet William has my vote.

Reviewed in This Post: Sweet William, 2013, Eau de Parfum.

How I Fell Into Perfumes

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I’m a very new face in perfumes. Barely three years on my belt and not a whole lot of technical knowledge about the art. I don’t even like calling myself a perfumista or accepting the label because I still feel like just an admirer of fragrances, sort of like how I can’t and won’t ever call myself an art critic and am much more content as an admirer of art. I’m still on a discovery journey, and wanted to know how you all came to love, admire, hoard, or blog about fragrances.

Guerlain Collection

I wish they had this image in desktop wallpaper size.

I started out probably in a very similar situation as most people. My mother liked fragrances, had a collection of her favorites that, to this day, whenever I smell I still equate to her at different points in her life. It was her collection that inspired me to start my own, seek out my own favorites. My first perfume was a Nina Ricci. Not one of the classics, of course. It was that apple thing, Nina that came out in 2006. I loved the stuff. I still love it even though it smells absurd on me these days.

One day, I caught a whiff of Chanel No.5 after having been away from it for a few years. My mother wore No.5 since before I was even born. She had been taking a break for over a decade so when the scent jogged some memory in my mind, I had to find out what it was. Having no knowledge of perfumes at the time, still wearing my Nina and being perfectly content with it, I had no idea where to look or what I was smelling.

When I described it to my mother one day, she wondered idly if it was No.5. The next day I smelled it at a department store, saw how many beautiful perfumes there were. Glass bottles, gorgeous displays. I wanted a vanity table covered in perfume bottles. I started collecting samples, all the samples I could get from department stores. Then I jumped online, started talking to others who liked perfumes. Found some friends whose addictions to fragrances netted them massive collections of exotic decants.

The hoarding obsession for me actually started with Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs. I had ordered six samples out of curiosity, having been drawn to their line thanks to a friend. My first six samples didn’t turn out the way I liked. I read the descriptions of the samples I got, decided to go for the ones that my friend recommended and found them too strong for me. One of the bunch was impressive though. It was The Unicorn from BPAL (now discontinued). It was soft, flower, utterly feminine and brilliant to me. I got a full bottle of it that came with more samples. I tried those, liked more of them got more bottles, got more samples and it ballooned from there.

While I was feeding my BPAL addiction, I was also testing out fragrances in department stores. Finding many of them delightfully sugary and sweet. I was young, smelling like a berry explosion seemed acceptable, but I couldn’t commit to any of them because I was still reeling in the BPAL collection that I was amassing.

When I finally found something I liked, it was Guerlain’s Champs-Elysees. If I remember right, it was followed my Guerlain’s Samsara, then Shalimar. A bottle of Opium from YSL (not much appreciated at the time by me), Chanel’s Allure, Coco Mademoiselle. Then I jumped to the big boys by falling in love with Spiritueuse Double Vanille. From there, I got more serious and had started blogging a few months before.

I started taking note of what scents I preferred. Writing down the stuff that I like and the stuff that I don’t to the point where I have amassed a list of flimsy maybe “yes” and possibly “no”. I found out shortly afterward, that notes that I like or don’t like didn’t necessarily lead me to winners and favorites. I still find that whether or not a fragrance contains or copiously uses a note that I love or loathe seldom correlates with how much I like the juice. It really is in how it’s mixed, the proportions, the combinations, the quality of the ingredients itself.

The result is my position right now. I find that I like very general things. Scents that are classical, heady and historical. I like light scenes, clean things that aren’t aquatic. Authentic and spicy vanillas usually melt my heart. Good honey-based fragrances make my nose happy. Incense and spices and ambers keep me coming back. I’m turned off by heavy uses of cedar and aquatics–maybe I’m crazy, but I think a fragrance can smell clean without resorting to a bunch of aquatic notes. I don’t particularly like the sharp twang of generic woods that a lot of mass market men’s fragrances sport. Nor do I adore the sugary sweet fruity florals that I once used to love.

I think perfumes is an ongoing journey that will never end. Even if the juices get more basic, more mass marketed, more sugary and sweet there’s still a huge amount of history in fragrances that used to be. And there’s still plenty of wonderful choices in the lesser known stuff. Niche and especially independent perfumery is more and more exciting place every single day.

So how did your fragrance journey start? 🙂

Amusements of a Vintage Perfume Addict

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One of the best things about being a vintage perfume fan is finding a tiny, hand-labeled vial of vintage fragrance with a date on it that goes back a few decades. Then squealing excitedly about it, unstopping the vial and lightly coating my skin. The best part is obviously enjoying that wonderous, heady, classic smell that all vintages tend to have. That beautiful thing that makes me imagine what the history behind the scent must have been like. That smell that I think everyone–whether they’re perfumistas, fans of perfume, or just people who are just curious about perfumes in general–need to smell. Whether or not they like it is besides the point. There’s just something completely awesome about smelling history.

Coty Ad

Did I forget to mention that I love vintage perfume ads too? Just beautiful stuff.

Whenever I get to wrangle someone into sitting and smelling stuff with me, I’ll pull out all the stops from the recent stuff that I know they’ll probably like and work them up to some of my most precious collections of old stuff. Hidden away from light and air and major temperature shifts, this old stuff is what I consider to be the real treats. Much to my amusement (and bemusement), most people wrinkle their noses at the vintages.

“Smells like my grandmother.” Seems like the most common response I get. And we already know how perfumistas feel about this particular sentiment. Some other common reactions:

“It smells–old.”

“Wow. That’s weird!”

“Whew, too strong.”

“Hmm, gives me a headache.”

Once in a while, one of my non-perfume crazy friends will be delighted because they think it’s awesome to be smelling something classic. But the most joy I got from sharing my vintages was when I converted one of my friends over to my addiction. Her initial reaction to it was that it was strange, too strong and that it probably wasn’t for her. She kept on the perfume thing, amassing bottle after bottle of mass market, then got more adventurous with niche fragrances. When her and I met up again for a perfume sniffing get-together, she sampled the same vintages I gave her the first time and discovered that not only did she grow an appreciation for the stuff, but that most of it was downright enchanting.

I started out in much the same way. Finding vintages a little strange, too heady, too strong or bitter. After a couple of years, I couldn’t get enough of the stuff and needed more.

Maybe it was because I started out like most young women, liking the Burberry offerings and finding perfumes that smelled like food to be a delightful novelty. So I went and got a bunch of fruity, floral things and wore them. It may have also helped that I blogged about my experiences and maybe it was because I had easy access to some more complex fragrances from the get go thanks to my mother. Whatever it was, I discovered that fruity florals and most teeny gourmands were…well, kind of boring. Maybe it was because I kept smelling those same fruity florals and gourmands everywhere. Or maybe it was because after smelling like a vanilla cake for a few months, I started to be turned off by sweet, sugary things and wanted something else with a little more kick. After all, it’s not all that fun to smell like everybody else–or have your dog look at you accusingly because he thinks you ate a cake that he would have liked to stare at and whine about first.

These days, I look in antique stores on the faint hope of finding an intact bottle with beautifully preserved juice inside of it. I don’t go antiquing often, my husband being of the mindset that he’d really rather get new things than old things (weird), but when I do go, I often see stuff of the non-perfume variety. Just as well, I suppose. I mean, the bills still need to be paid. I also find it incredibly hard to walk away from a vintage fragrance. I need to smell it. I need to know what it was like. I think it’s because those vintages were better built. But then, I’m biased, and mass market fatigued. Mostly, I’m tired of the berry candy openings, and the faux rose middles, with finishing splashes of plastic vanilla. At this point, I’d much rather be accused of smelling “old” and while knowing that fine fragrance is an artwork, than being told that I smell nice because of Cupcake Explosion No.45 by Faceless Celebrity. Heavens know, Justin/Selena/Katy/Gaga/et al. don’t need any more of my money.

So maybe vintage isn’t for everybody. But it’s got a way of winning over people who’ve been mired in the scent scene long enough to get fatigued from all the modern fruity florals, the floppy, same-y flowers, and the boring vanilla sandalwood dry down.

Now, the next best thing about being a vintage perfume fan is watching your friends who enjoy the latest and greatest in mass market fragrances look on it horror as you slap some decades-old juice on your skin. One of my friends actually cringes when she sees me do this, like the old perfume might turn me into some sort of swamp thing. Her loss.

Lucien Lelong Indiscret

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Indescret is one of those rare finds that a lovely friend supplied me with on one of her many sojourns into antiques markets, estate sales, flea markets, and all other manner of excellent places I wish I lived close enough to her to enjoy too. I’ll always be grateful when she finds a fragrance treasure and sends me even the smallest samples though!

Indiscret

Indiscret

In Bottle: Heady and bitter, highly floral and possessing of that classic perfume scent that’s always hard to describe and can only be smelled and experienced to understand.

Applied: Indiscret is very strong upon application. It fills my nose, floods into my sinus cavity and clears things out as it hits my brain screaming of a bitter green and sharp orange. It settles down after about an hour but don’t think Indiscret gets any more mellow, it’s a powerhouse, keeps going and evolving and growing stronger the longer you wear it. The woodsiness comes up a bit more, along with some faded floral notes, the most I get is a very rounded jasmine that adds a very nice touch to smooth out the scent. The whole thing smells classic and I wish I had the eloquence to describe that classic, vintage fragrance smell adequately because it’s a beautiful thing and all budding perfumistas or fragrance fan needs to smell and experience it at least once. Indiscret, or at least the version I have, seems to have taken on a musty lower note as it ages hours later. It has a bit of spiciness with that woodsy scent but at the same time, there’s something a bit funky about the dry down that puts me off a little, but doesn’t turn me away. Judging from the other reviewer reactions, I have a feeling my particular juice may have gone off a little, which is a shame since people seem to describe the final stage of Indiscret as a smooth, creamy woodsy spicy affair.

Extra: Indiscret was released in the mid-1930s to Lucien Lelong, a very fancy brand back in the day. Indiscret was discontinued at some point, but is still somewhat available via eBay and select vintage fragrance sellers.

Design: The bottles I see have lovely, classic sweeping feminine curves and a beautiful looking flacon. If I could get my hands on it, I totally would. There are other designs as well, ranging from simpler rectangular flacons to mini sizes to more modernized bottles with shiny metallic-looking caps.

Fragrance Family: Floral Woodsy

Notes: Mandarin, bergamot, jasmine, tuberose, orange flower, rose, ylang ylang, geranium, iris, galbanum, woods.

Like most fragrances my friend picks up from antique stores, I can’t fully classify the year of the bottle and can only guess. My only recommendation for this one is to look for it, the more vintage and pure the better the experience. It’s a beautiful, full-bodied, very long-lasting vintage beauty!

Reviewed in This Post: Indiscret, ~1940, Eau de Parfum.

Katy Perry Killer Queen

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So work is starting to pick up and I might have a little bit of cash to drop on some niche and vintage goodies. And I say this with all the love I can muster for dime a dozen, easily accessible department store celebuscents that tide me over when I don’t have a decant of a rare fume on hand. Unfortunately for me, most celebuscents have lost their luster since I’ve smelled so many of them and most have the unfortunate habit of being really, really, really generic.

Killer Queen

Killer Queen

In Bottle: Sugar and berries. Almost smells like a collection of liquified jelly berries. You know, these things: Haribo Gummy Candies. Don’t get me wrong, I love those gummy berries. I just expected more out of a fragrance that’s going to call itself Killer Queen.

Applied: Smells like sweet berries, rolled in vast amounts of sugar. Killer Queen is so sweet, I’m going to assume the killer part of it is from a sugar overdose. From what I’m smelling, there’s very little else other than the berry smell. I don’t get any jasmine, I can’t smell any patchouli or anything more sophisticated than really sweet berries. The midstage does get a little flowery. But it’s that sugary-sweet frangipani flower. The dry down is barely any different from the midstage. The sugar is still very prominent, the entire fragrance is quite one-dimensional and I mean, I guess I shouldn’t expect much from a celebuscent at this rate. But I will say I was pretty disappointed that they chose to name it something pretty awesome and then did something really lame with it.

Extra: Killer Queen was the title of a song by Queen, written by Freddie Mercury and released in 1974. The fragrance, Killer Queen by Katy Perry was released earlier in 2013. I’m going to have to throw it out there that someone else ought to take the name and make a more appropriate fragrance with it. I imagine something more powerful and unique. Maybe a number with leather, roses, a touch of sleazy civet, frankincense, tonka and amber. What about you?

Design: The bottle design isn’t that bad, though I’m noticing more bottles going for the “can’t stand it upright” design approach. Not sure how I feel about that particular choice yet, but the bottle itself is pretty attractive, if somewhat lacking in creativity.

Fragrance Family: Fruity Gourmand

Notes: Fruits, plum, bergamot, celosia, frangipani, jasmine, praline, cashmere, patchouli.

I will admit that I picked up Killer Queen and decided to give it a shot at the store because of its name. This, and I somehow managed to miss the large and very prominent poster of Katy Perry with the blasted thing on her scepter posted right above the bottle display. I’m not very observant apparently.

Reviewed in This Post: Killer Queen, 2013, Eau de Parfum.

Tom Ford Tobacco Oud

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When Tom Ford dropped a tobacco oud fragrance, I dug it, having decided that I had enough of my clean, light fragrances and was going to go for something dark.

Tobacco Oud

Tobacco Oud

In Bottle: Resinous and spice with a woody opening with a heady alcohol waft that opens rather powerfully.

Applied: Like I said above, the initial application is very strong and heady. It smells of sweet resins, woods and spice. It makes me think of whiskey and while I’d like to get the tobacco oud, the strength of the other notes in the opening doesn’t quite allow for that. And as it turns out, tobacco oud is somewhat lacking in oud. It actually smells quite smooth, like a very good resin but is it a good oud? I can’t, personally, detect any of that. I get more spicy ambers than anything else and upon dry down I get the sandalwood and a very nice smokiness but still not all that much oud unless the amber I keep smelling is supposed to be a stand in for that. Tobacco Oud is actually not bad–actually, bad is probably not one of the words I’d use for this. I quite like it. I like the amber, I like the smoky incense, I even like the big, powerful opening. It’s got a nice, strong initial presence a good middle ground personality and a pretty delightful dry down with the smoky sandalwood with that touch of amber. But it wasn’t the dark, powerful scent that I was expecting and hoping for.

Extra: Tobacco Oud was released in 2013. Interestingly enough and maybe I was a little swayed by the notes list was that it lists whiskey as one of the ingredients. Fascinating addition, though I never cared much for whiskey myself. I’m more a rum kind of gal.

Design: Fairly similar design to many other Tom Ford fragrances out there. Nice shape, very classic. Easy to own and display if you’re into that kind of thing. Not too special or flashy or different from other Tom Fords. Good and reliable are probably two words I’d use for this design.

Fragrance Family: Woodsy Spice

Notes: Oud, tobacco, sandalwood, patchouli, spices, whiskey.

So now I know that Tobacco Oud is probably not the kick I wanted out of a fragrance. Any recommendations for some really dark and smoky ouds? I have a hankering for one.

Reviewed in This Post: Tobacco Oud, 2013, Eau de Parfum.

Oscar de la Renta Tropical Flower

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I smelled this fragrance before I saw the bottle and while the fragrance left me lukewarm, the bottle really turned me off. Something about the colors, the shape and the way it felt just didn’t settle well with me. Just as well for lukewarm perfume.

Tropical Flower

Tropical Flower

In Bottle: Tropical, pleasant but not especially unique or interesting. I get a lot of fruits, sweet and cooling.

Applied: Tropical fruits upon application, smells like a dewy melon mixed in a tropical drink and meant to be enjoyed under an umbrella. There is a floral, rose note that wafts in during the mid stage with a liberal coating of sugar that runs over the opening. If this had been a bit less sweet, it might have done a little better because there’s something decent about the mid stage and its florals that are trying to class up Tropical Flower, but aren’t quite making it because of the sugar. The dry down is a dead end of white musk and the remnants of sugary fruits and frangipani.

Extra: Having been too busy this summer to make it to the beach, I tried to replace my beachless summer with a fragrance. Some day I’ll make it to the Bahamas, but for now, the Tropical Flower just isn’t a substitution.

Design: I really can’t say I like the design of Tropical Flower’s bottle. It looks very plastic, even though it isn’t. And maybe that’s what they were going for all along, it just doesn’t appeal to me.

Fragrance Family: Fruity Floral

Notes: Passionfruit, melon, raspberry, gardenia, jasmine, frangipani, white musk.

So that was Tropical Flower, a fairly underwhelming fragrance.

Reviewed in This Post: Tropical Flower, ~2008, Eau de Toilette.