Molinard Habanita

You may have heard of Habanita’s original purpose by now. Yes, it was a product introduced initially for people to scent their cigarette smoke. Yeah, you heard that right. Scenting cigarette smoke in 1921 was probably not as weird or as novel a notion as it is now. Habanita evolved into a regular perfume just three years after its introduction in 1924. Habanita

In Bottle: Dry green and woodsy fragrance. Like leaves clinging to a branch and scorching in the sun.

Applied: Initial flare of dry woods that doesn’t evolve much for a little while and by the time the flowers hit you, you were probably wondering when that happened and why no one gave you the memo. Habanita is a dusty, woodsy, mildly floral fragrance with a slightly grassy note in between its opening and middle stages. It’s strange–but very interesting when compared to most other recent perfume offerings. One of the best things about this fragrance for me is the dry down that reaches a warm, leathery, amber note at the bottom with a hint of sweetness and a lingering dusting of the dry woods. It’s fascinating to smell. Even more fascinating to contemplate cigarette smoke that was supposed to smell like this.

Extra: I imagine with its initial purpose, Habanita might have mingled a bit with the smoke which would have altered the fragrance just a little bit possibly tempering or at least masking how dry this scent can be.

Design: Black bottle with Molinard’s signature water nymph design on the glass. The nymph design is very reminiscent of the 1920s’ sensibilities in design. The bottle features a gold metal cap and sprayer nozzle.

Fragrance Family: Woodsy Classic

Notes: Bergamot, peach, orange blossom, galbanum, oakmoss, jasmine, rose, ylang ylang, heliotrope, patchouli, amber, leather, vetiver, cedar, sandalwood, benzoin, vanilla.

Habanita is surprisingly cheap for a fragrance that’s been around for so long and is, by all accounts and purposes, a rather pleasant and unique take (well, unique when you consider the other stuff being put out these days). Online discounters often carry Habanita’s  Eau de Toilette version for $20-40.

Reviewed in This Post: Habanita, ~2000, Eau de Toilette.


Old Spice

Today we’re smelling Old Spice. I’ve smelled new Old Spice (hah) plenty and I’m sure you’ve smelled Old Spice plenty too, so let’s take a minute to appreciate what Old Spice smells like. Just because.

Old Spice

In Bottle: Spicy sweet floral with a citrus palette cleanser, bold for a men’s fragrance I gotta say. This is sharp, clean, sweet and strangely complex. A surprise to me immediately as it adds to its opening concoction a slightly boozy note intermixed with a dash of sugar sprinkled in.

Applied: After the citrus is done its job, the spice lingers around as is to be expected as the fragrance slowly introduces a fantastic miasma of cinnamon and clove with a few powdered flowers tossed in there for good measure. This scent is very dry, like a basket of cinnamon sticks at a spice market sitting near a bunch of burning incense on a hot summer day. It’s dry and warm and comforting with an interesting note of smoothness that comes up to mix with the florals and the spices that I want to say is sweet vanilla. Old Spice is a remarkably complex fragrance that goes through several stages on me but it’s mid-stage–that mix of sweetness, smooth vanilla, dry spices, and incensed florals is truly something else. Don’t turn your nose up at this or you’ll miss out on a very, very respectable scent. When Old Spice dries down, it takes a while to get there, but when it does it introduces a woodsy quality to the spicy floral sweet vanilla incense and warms things up even more with an amber and toasty tonka bean scent. Something this complex is mind-boggling how it could work together but it does! And it’s delightful.

Extra: Unlike a lot of people, I don’t have any early memories of Old Spice. I don’t know anyone aside from my fiance who may have once used Old Spice deodorant. And I kind of wished I did because this stuff is great.

Design: Old Spice’s bottle can be seen above. I don’t actually own a bottle of this stuff though with the affordable price tag, I really have no reason not to. The shape is reminiscent of a cola bottle but it works for this stuff and actually looks kind of nice. I can imagine that sitting on someone’s vanity. Wait, do men have vanities? I’ll just call them sink counter. Bottom line, the bottle works, it looks fine, it’s a good design for what it is and good for what you pay for.

Fragrance Family: Oriental

Notes: Orange, lemon, spices, clary sage, aldehydes, cinnamon, carnation, geranium, jasmine, heliotrope, pimento berry, vanilla, musk, cedar, frankincense, benzoin, tonka bean, ambergris.

Don’t knock it ’til you try it. Old Spice is a confident little classic number that’s been around since 1937. Yeah, the Old Spice really is old and I have to say, it’s aged rather well.

Reviewed in This Post: Old Spice, 2010, Eau de Cologne.


Guerlain Jicky

So Jicky, what do you want me to say about you? Well, I ask because everyone the world over has already said what they wanted. It just seems I’d only add yet another opinion to the already loaded mix of what makes Jicky tick. Ah well, let’s give it a stab anyway. I started off this blog reviewing Mitsouko of all things! Jicky

In Bottle: Spicy lavender, warmed up and dotted with a slight citrus topper in the opening. Jicky is immediately alarming and comforting at the same time.

Applied: Initial flare up of citrus, a big yellow splash in the opening to get you ready for the lavender that rolls in soon after. The lavender really shines with Jicky for me. It’s normally a comforting scent, this lavender, but the Jicky lavender gets a bit indolic at times thanks to what I can only assume is the civet used in this. It’s very heady and frankly speaking, she doesn’t smell “right” but that doesn’t stop her from smelling awesome. For those of you not in the know, “indolic” is a polite term for “smells like poo”. Breathe past that minute note of “off-ness” and you’ll be rewarded with a spicy leathery quality to it. There’s definitely animalic swayings in this fragrance. It’s not soft and tender lavender for sure and if you were to drop this into a soap people would be wondering what’s wrong with you while at the same time wondering how they could get in on it too. This is dirty stuff but it’s classy stuff, and it amuses me a great deal. She doesn’t try to fruit it up or pass it off as some sort of therapy and just for that alone, Jicky should be given a crown. It’s simply you and lavender, leather, spice, and hilarious indole. And you had better take it. Jicky uses that full lavender with an air of sophistication and a sense of daring all the way into the closer where the lavender fades a warmed dusty tonka greets you at the bottom with that ever present indole. Something about Jicky smells familiar but at the same time incredibly lush and hard to grasp. If Jicky could talk, I imagine she’d say, “What? You don’t like it? Then it’s obvious you don’t get it and I’ll thank you for getting out of my way”. Yeah, that’s Jicky. She doesn’t care if you don’t like her. She knows she’s good.

Extra: I love Jicky. I don’t love how she smells because I am a self-professed, shame-faced lover of clean and easy to wear. But I love what she stands for and appreciate what she is. She’s an era in perfume long gone but stubbornly and regally embodied in her bold presence that just refuses to go quietly. She’s one of the few Guerlains that I will probably never wear simply because she’s too much for me. But I can appreciate her all the same. Especially for being so “in your face” with all the fresh, clean, fruity stuff being pumped out today. I find it delicious to imagine a group of bottles, a hundred or so in number, of celebrity fragrances could be placed on the floor in a room. And there might be a bottle of Jicky sitting in the middle, waiting for some unsuspecting person to come by, pick her up and get slapped in the face with all that she is. Never change, Jicky. Never change.

Design: Those of you familiar with the Nahema design will recognize the image above. Though it should be noted that Jicky most definitely came first. Beautiful bottle, classical look, wonderful feel. Pictured above is the parfum concentration placed into an fantastic, elegant flacon. It’s Guerlain at its best.

Fragrance Family: Classic Aromatic

Notes: Lemon, mandarin, bergamot, lavender, orris, jasmin, rose, patchouli, vetiver, leather, amber, civet, tonka, incense, benzoin.

You don’t really need me to rehash the romantic story of Jicky and her creation again, do you? Nah, I’ll just leave this post to say that if you were here and reading about Jicky, and were interested, there is a large online database of information readily available with a quick Google search about the conceptualization of Jicky, where you can get Jicky, and what–if anything at all–has happened to her in all these years since 1889 when she was first introduced. Or you can click here.

Reviewed in This Post: Jicky, ~1970, Eau de  Parfum.


Terre d’Hermes

Ahh, Terre d’Hermes. People could write poetry about you–and sometimes they weren’t poets to begin with. The truth about Terre d’Hermes is that it’s a very, very good masculine fragrance. There few men’s fragrances that would outright agree to being truly good masculine fragrances and Terre d’Hermes just happens to be one of them.  Terre dHermes

In Bottle: Beautiful sweet and mild citrus mingled with a very light woodsy note.

Applied: Upon application Terre d’Hermes wastes no time letting you know it’s a citrus and that it’s sweet and charming. I get the citrus, slightly sharp but not overdone. I get lots of orange with a full-bodied spice that mingles so well with the citrus that you could have sworn oranges were always this spicy. Terre d’Hermes is a wonderfully well-blended concoction, it’s billed as masculine but I could see a woman wearing this too. The opener of Terre d’Hermes blends into the mid stage with a lighter, greener, fragrance that slowly introduces the wood notes along with that lingering spice from the end of the opening. As Terre d’Hermes comes home in the base, it rounds off with a not overdone, well tempered, well meaning, and well used cedar wood.

Extra: Composed by Jean-Claude Ellena in 2006, Terre d’Hermes has gone on to become one of those esteemed recent men’s fragrances. It blows the water out of Bleu de Chanel anyway.

Design: Terre d’Hermes comes in two concentrations. Eau de Toilette and Parfum. The bottle is the classic rectangle glass bottle with a couple of orange dashes at the bottom that look like the bottle’s feet that I think is–for lack of a better word–cute. There’s nothing cute about this fragrance otherwise. It’s grown-up, lovely, lauded and you would be hard pressed to go wrong with it or its aesthetics.

Fragrance Family: Citrus Woodsy

Notes: Mineral, grapefruit, rose, pepper, geranium, cedar, benzoin, patchouli, vetiver.

Another perfume that doesn’t blast cedar up my nose? Something so rare sometimes that I fall to my knees and sob when I find another.

Reviewed in This Post: Terre d’Hermes, 2008, Eau de Toilette.


Marc Jacobs Bang

Marc Jacobs came out with Bang (raise your hands if you read that as ‘came out with a bang’) earlier this year to a fairly decent media frenzy that at first revolved around his statements about the fragrance, then about the advertising that came out with the fragrance in which some men begged to wonder, “if I were to choose a cologne, do I want it to be the one with a naked Marc Jacobs on the advertisement?” Query of the ages right there. Bang

In Bottle: Bang slaps me in the nose right away with a gigantic dose of peppers. Red, white, pink, black. You got the entire pepper rainbow in this thing. And hey, it’s off-putting but I actually like it.

Applied: Pepper, pepper, pepper. Like grinding peppercorns and spraying them into my nose. The initial reaction I had was to sneeze but it didn’t get to that point. I love pepper. I love how strong and blatant the initial pepper blast in this stuff is. If you want something to wake you up, Bang’s opening is it. But after the pepper blast, Bang heads into something a little more conventional as it veers into a leathery woods scent with a tickle of vetiver and a now very familiar cedar note. But all that is second fiddle to the pepper that just doesn’t go away. Thankfully Bang is light-handed with its used of cedar and has ended up with a competent woodsy mid-stage instead of a cedar mess that so many other cedar-based fragrances suffer from on my skin. The dry down is a decent play between bitter green notes, a lingering tickle of pepper, and a pleasant bit of earthy patchouli and woods.

Extra: The less said about the advertising campaign for Bang, the better. I thought they could have taken this in a few different directions but ultimately picked the obvious, which was disappointing to me. Well, if nothing else, the ad caught a lot of people’s attention.

Design: Bang’s bottle is not for me. It’s a little silly looking, if you ask me, and seems overly gimmicky. The bottle boasts a metallic exterior that looks like it would have once been a statement piece in the world of metal rectangles before someone punched it out of shape in a blind rage. Surprisingly enough, despite its non-traditional appearance and respectable weightiness, the bottle is fairly easy and comfortable to hold.

Fragrance Family: Spicy Woods

Notes: Black pepper, white pepper, pink pepper, woods, elemi resin, benzoin, vetiver, white moss, patchouli.

I’m not a fan of the reputation they built around this fragrance. I’m much less a fan of the silly-looking bottle. But the fragrance is a competent well-blended spicy woods gig.

Reviewed in This Post: Bang, 2010, Eau de Toilette.


Givenchy L’Interdit 1957

L’Interdit, the original, was discontinued then reformulated and re-released in 2002. Then slightly reformulated back to the classic version and released again in 2007. What it became in 2002 was a generic scent. Reformulated 2002 L’Interdit smells nothing like the classic, the 2007 version is closer but I still thought it lacked a certain daring feel that the original possessed. I had the chance to smell L’Interdit 1957 and the bar has been raised. L'Interdit

In Bottle: Aldehydes, very strong. Sharp and sparkling, and astringent. It’s approaching that point where it smells like urine as the aldehydes are just so strong in this. I think this may have something to do with the perfume’s age making the aldehydes stronger than they should be.

Applied: More aldehydes! The sharpness and sparkle are fleeting on the skin though as they start to evaporate but never quite leave, lending L’Interdit a constant status of glitz and high perfumery. The fragrance calms down a bit into a soft floral with touches of fruit here and there giving it a sweetness. It’s gentle like a like touch, and easy to wear. It doesn’t smell clean or fresh, just warm and gentle. The mid-stage is dominated with floral notes as sheer and light as the non-aldehyde notes in the opener. L’Interdit is  so easy to love as it approaches the dry down with a splash of incense over a bed of flowers and powder. It ushers out with a final flare of woodsy incense.

Extra: L’Interdit was composed in the 1950s for Audrey Hepburn. They released it for the public on 1957 with Hepburn  endorsing it. L’Interdit was composed by Francis Fabron. The man who created Nina Ricci’s L’Air du Temps. You may find it difficult to find the original L’Interdit in stores today but a recent reissue in 2007 of L’Interdit smells as close as you’re going to get.

Design: Simple glass bottle with a red label and a metal cap to protect the sprayer. L’Interdit knows it doesn’t need to impress you with a flashy bottle and it really doesn’t even try. I can appreciate the bottle for its simplicity though and its high contrast design.

Fragrance Family: Floral

Notes: : Aldehydes, galbanum, peach, bergamot, jasmine, rose, narcissus, lily of the valley, incense, sandalwood, benzoin, tonka, amber, musk, vetiver.

I didn’t get an exact date on how old this bottle of L’Interdit was so we compromised with a reasonable year.

Reviewed in This Post: L’Interdit, circa 1970, Eau de Toilette.


Donna Karan Liquid Nude

Cashmere Mist is one of the most popular Donna Karan fragrances. It was released in the early 90s (1994, I believe) and has been sold with much popularity since. Liquid Nude is the brand new 2010 flanker to Cashmere Mist. Liquid Nude

In Bottle: Light and floral. Reminds me of clean linen and fresh sheets with a hint of cleaned up sandalwood.

Applied: Floral top notes that lend a very feminine edge to this fragrance. It has quite a nice display of florals set against a seemingly always present perfumed sandalwood. The fragrance evolves into a clear and very floral jasmine mid-stage that lends to a nice airy clean linen-like scent. This smells like good soap and I can sort of see the connection to the original Cashmere Mist as this is set in a nicer, more modern stage than the original. It also smells a little bit younger too. The dry down is a pleasant smooth white floral with a bit of lingering warmed sandalwood mixed with a light vanilla. Pretty much the one thing you can take away from Liquid Nude here is that it’s a very good, very clear and clean floral and creamy woodsy fragrance.

Extra: Donna Karan has other fragrances with her name on them including the very popular DKNY Be Delicious line which is a big hit with younger women.

Design: I don’t know if “elegant” is quite the word I want to use here but the design of this bottle is slick and nicely designed. It reminds me of a variety of things but mostly, it’s a close interpretation of the original Cashmere Mist bottle in a nice shiny pinkish tone with the swan shape toned down and smoothed out.

Fragrance Family: Floral

Notes: Orange flowers, pink cyclamen petals, lily of the valley, sandalwood, ylang ylang, Moroccan jasmine, labdanum, jasmine, white amber, skin musk, suede, tonka, benzoin.

I’m actually not much of a fan of Cashmere Mist or this particular incarnation of it. It reminds me of the perfumes I grew up smelling and I suppose my nose is a bit dulled from it by now.

Reviewed in This Post: Liquid Nude, 2010, Eau de Parfum.


Common Perfume Notes Made Easy

Ever try to read out and make sense of a notes listing for a fragrance you love? Just what on Earth is muguet supposed to be? How do you even say that? And what’s this coumarin that everyone keeps talking about? And if you thought the notes list was complicated enough, just wait until you hear about the stuff they don’t list.

The following is a brief overview of some perplexing but common notes you might see in perfume.

Benzoin: Pronounced, “ben-zoh-in”, can refer to either the “benzoin resin” from trees in the Styrax genus or the organic compound, “benzoin”. Benzoin resin has a creamy, honey and vanilla fragrance.

Champaca: Pronounced, “cham-puk-uh”, is a tree from the magnolia family. It smells woodsy, spicy and green.

Coumarin: Pronounced, “koo-muh-rin”, is a chemical compound found in tonka beans, sweet grass, and a wide variety of other plants. It has a sweet hay scent.

Galbanum: Pronounced, “gal-bun-num”, is a gum resin from plants of the Ferula genus. It has a green, herbaceous and bitter scent.

Labdanum: Pronounced, “lab-dun-num”, is a resin obtained chiefly from plants of the Cistus genus. Labdanum smells sweet, dry and woodsy.

Muguet: Pronounced, “mew-gey”, is Lily-of-the-Valley. It has a light, very sheer but distinctive sweet aroma.

Olibanum: Pronounced, “O-lib-bun-num”, is frankincense. Smells like incense to me.

Opopanax: Pronounced, “oh-pop-pan-nax”, is a gum resin that smells woodsy and lightly floral undertones.

Oud: Pronounced, “ooh’d”, sometimes referred to as agarwood is the resin that is produced when an Aquilaria tree is infected with mold. Oud is said to smell dense, sweet, warm,  and woodsy.

Ylang Ylang: Pronounced, “ee-lang ee-lang”, is a flowering tree. Ylang ylang has a delicate, white floral fragrance.


Prada Infusion D’Iris

Infusion D’Iris is a fragrance true to its name as the fragrance strength and longevity are pretty much as good as an infusion’s going to get. This is an incredibly light fragrance with a very sad, very short applied life. No wonder a 200ml of Eau de Parfum exists. Having thought it funny that a bottle (not counting fountains) so massive existed at the time, I have since seen the light. I will no longer laugh at your jug’s worth of fleeting beauty, Infusion D’Iris. Infusion D'Iris

In Bottle: Green with a slightly earthy quality to it. Dark citrus laid over breaths of earthy, woodsiness. There is a very beautiful,very clear floral in this that lands the fragrance in floral territory immediately. I love the play between the freshness and the earthiness here. The latter often used in a denser way.

Applied: There’s a very bitter opener in this that powers through and reserve thoughts you may have had of D’Iris possibly being fruity. Nothing at all fruity about this fragrance as it tells you up front that it means business. The floral is also very quick to come up along with the woods and resins that blend together to make this fragrance sing during the early application period. As Infusion D’Iris ages on the skin the bitterness eases off a little, letting the flower and the rest of the fragrance do its work as it smooths out into a light whitish-green interpretation.

Extra: The iris sprouts from a bulb and like most bulb sprouting flowers tend to lack a scent, or have very little scent. There are some iris species that do have fragrant flowers but by and large you’ll find scentless iris petals. So, how come you see some people claim they can smell irises and love iris notes? They probably can because iris absolute does exist. Naturally extracted iris absolute, like many naturally produced ingredients in perfumery, are prohibitively expensive. Iris notes are made from the rhizomes of the plant rather than from the petals like most people would think. It would surprise many to discover that a lot of flower petals lack a fragrance and ye olde iris is one of them. How do they get the fragrance out of iris rhizomes then? They irradiate  them then extract the goodness. Irradiation is done to accelerate the aging of the rhizomes to get irones out of them. Irradiation simply makes things faster. Far faster, as aging iris rhizome the natural way could take years, whereas nuking them takes only a week. For the hypochondriacs out there, you cannot get cancer or radiation poisoning from wearing the extract from nuked iris root. You also will not become a superhero. I know. I’m sorry.

Design: Presented in a tall rectangular glass bottle with the Prada logo embossed on a plate. The cap is a plastic and metal affair with a band of green textured paper running along its barrel. Simple, easy, nothing flashy or complicated. I’m a minimalist by nature so the bottle here suits my tastes. The sprayer is also very decent, even, fine mist, does not distribute too much perfume. Though in this case, it probably should have.

Fragrance Family: Fresh Floral

Notes: Mandarin, orange blossom, iris, incense, benzoin, vetiver, cedar.

Here’s another surprise feature about perfume and supposed expensive ingredients. While there are genuinely expensive ingredients still used in perfume the vast majority of money that a perfume costs to you, the consumer, doesn’t go into the materials to make the fragrance. According to Luca Turin in The Secret of Scent, approximately 3% of the money goes into the fragrance components and development. The other 97%? Packaging, margins and advertising. And so my rage at Burberry Brit’s brick of a bottle continues.

Reviewed in This Post: Infusion D’Iris, 2010, Eau de Parfum.


Balmain Ambre Gris

I don’t hate ambergris despite how often I make fun of it. I just find a lot of ingredients (or former ingredients seeing as many of them are now synthetics for very good reasons) to be amusing. Who thought up extracting musk to make fragrances? And how did they come to that conclusion anyway? Similarly, the story of the first chunks of ambergris discovery must have been simultaneously awesome and hilarious at the same time.

Er, anyway, Balmain’s Ambre Gris captures the essence of the note and it did it a little too well. wnqwqf45

In Bottle: Sweet with a musky, spicy, woodsy base that goes into the back of my throat and gets caught there. I get golden, warm and cinnamon in this but it’s definitely not gourmand. I don’t want to eat this at all. The musk is distinctly telling me not to and I’m going to oblige. It just smells fascinating.

Applied: Sweet, spicy and powerful. Ambre Gris packs a big punch as it throws itself in all directs around application spot. This stuff is potent and you do not need a whole lot of it to project yourself. The musks in this fragrance and the sweetness are trying really hard to convince me that this is what real-life ambergris sitting on a beach smells like. There is a very, very minor saltiness to this but I had to work for that one. Ambre Gris is golden, warm, and a bit racy. It’ll also last, and last, and last, and just when you’ve outlasted it, you’ll get a whiff or two and think again.

Extra: Ambergris comes from whales. More specifically, it’s a regurgitated waxy, greyish lump of substance mostly used in perfumery after appropriate aging. Most ambergris in fragrances these days are synthetic, in that they’ve had various compounds mixed together to simulate real ambergris due to a wide barrage of ethical, legal, rarity and expense issues.

Design: Presented in a grey tinted glass bottle, Ambre Gris is topped with a golden, ball-like cap. The cap reminds me of a golden inverse golf ball. I’m fairly indifferent from the look of the fragrance itself. It’s easy, functional, the golf ball cap is a pleasant element.

Fragrance Family: Oriental

Notes: Pink pepper, cinnamon, tuberose,i mmortelle, myrrh, smokey woods , benzoin, white musk, ambergris.

Interesting how I couldn’t pick up on the tuberose but now that I know it’s in there, I did get that slick, slightly floral up-your-nose-and-around-the-corner tuberose kick. Or I could just be making it all up.

Reviewed in This Post: Ambre Gris, 2009, Sample vial.