L'Artisan Parfumeur - La Chasse Aux Papillons

The first thing I smell is linden. I do like linden. This is a good one, too; most linden fragrances have this hard-to-describe quality to them, kind of soapy and unctuous. The linden in La Chasse Aux Papillons doesn't have so much of that. It's more floral, maybe on account of the other floral notes. I'm liking this so far.

You know, until recently I was a little confused about the classification of the linden tree. I blame Jo Malone and her French Lime Blossom, another linden-heavy fragrance. After a little Googling, and some delicious lime flower tea, I came to the conclusion that lime trees and linden trees were the same. It sort of made sense, considering that neroli oil comes from orange blossoms. Kind of like how pork, ham, and bacon all come from pigs, and to be perfectly honest, I don't really know which part of the pig is bacon, and so on. And is ham a kind of pork? I've always referred to ham and bacon as "pork products."

I need one of those diagrams that shows you the different parts of the pig. I probably also need one for orange trees.

Anyway, I still had my doubts about lindens and limes being the same plant, considering all the Linden Avenues I've seen throughout the Midwest, and I know citrus trees don't grow in Kansas. Something wasn't right.

Turns out that the linden tree, genus Tilia, is known as "lime" in Britain, and is unrelated to the lime fruit, Citrus aurantifolia. Thanks, limeys.

I kind of wonder what the flowers of Citrus aurantifolia smell like now.

...And wouldn't you know, in the time I took to explain that, La Chasse Aux Papillons has completely disappeared on me. I don't smell anything anymore.

L'Artisan does make a "La Chasse Aux Papillons Extreme," which I suppose may last longer than fifteen minutes, but I'm not wearing any perfume with the word "extreme" in it.

Other Stinky Stuff: Tyvek Envelopes

Here at Diversey Stinks, I like to focus on things that smell lovely, whether they're perfumes, candles, soaps, or the Fullerton El stop (which always smells like french fries, courtesy of Demon Dogs).

However, on occasion, something smells so vile that I have to share it with the public--partly as catharsis, partly as a public service.

For instance, Tyvek envelopes.

I appreciate the sturdy, indestructible wonder that is Tyvek, but every time I have to send a FedEx, I want to gag.

These things smell like poo. Literally. I can't decide which Tyvek smells like more: manure or vomit. And there's nothing I can do about the stench. There's no sense in washing an envelope, after all, and I bet you anything that Tyvek is impervious to Febreze. (Not that Febreze can effectively eliminate odors on any material, but that's for another post.)

I mean, for crying out loud, DuPont, you've invented so many fantastic things. Surely y'all are smart enough to invent an envelope that doesn't stink?

The People of the Labyrinths - Luctor et Emergo

Who are these people, and where are these labyrinths from whence they struggle and emerge?

And what's with the trend of designer brands sounding like ancient cults, anyway? I'm scared to buy jeans from Seven for All Mankind, True Religion, Blue Cult, or Citizens of Humanity, because I'm afraid they might require some sort of animal sacrifice, or that I might be somehow brainwashed into buying $180 jeans forevermore. And if you think about it, fashion is a cult in itself--the dumbest, brainwashiest cult of all. How else do you explain people willingly paying so much for a pair of freaking jeans that probably won't be in style five years from now? With my jeans, I just cross "Old Navy" off the back and write in "Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra," and everybody thinks I'm the coolest kid of all.

So these people, in these labyrinths. I'm thinking maybe there's a minotaur, Pac-Man, and David Bowie sitting in a damp, mossy conference room, discussing perfume and occasionally sending robots to thwart Sonic the Hedgehog. The Labyrinth Zone is one of my favorite Sonic levels, probably because the music's so good. Don't laugh, but I made up lyrics:

I wonder where you are
You are now in the lab-y-rinth
You think you've come so far
But you're still in the lab-y-rinth
Where did I park my car?
I parked it in the lab-y-rinth
Da da da da da dar
Da da da in the lab-y-rinth zone

You're in the labyrinth, everybody's happy
We're in the labyrinth too
You're in the labyrinth, everybody's happy
Da da da da da da da da da da

It's a work in progress, and anyway, it really has no bearing on this fragrance, unless you take into account that the Labyrinth Zone boss is probably the hardest in the game, and it always takes me three or four tries before Sonic can successfully luct and emerg. So this is sort of a perfume about that.

I guess you want to know what it smells like.

It's pretty good on me. Mostly vanilla. It's a smoky, powdery vanilla, with a little bit of cherry syrup and marzipan thrown in. It smells a little bit like cookie dough. It smells a lot like the Original Vanilla perfume oil from the Body Shop, which I think has been discontinued, not that I'm mourning it, because I still have a full bottle gathering dust on my shelf. I just couldn't wear Original Vanilla; it was just too syrupy and sweet. Once I was wearing it, and these two people about ten feet in front of me remarked that something smelled like Dr. Pepper, and I knew it was me.

Here's the thing, though: Original Vanilla is like cookie dough after you've eaten three-quarters of the tube, and you can't even bear the smell of it, and you're sure you're going to die of salmonella within the hour. Luctor et Emergo is like the first bite of cookie dough, right after you've snipped the end off the tube, and it stays delicious for hours and hours. Maybe it's the smoky note that makes the difference. Mmm, smoked cookie dough.

(And before you point out that I'm a philistine who doesn't make her own cookie dough: Cookie dough from scratch is for baking. Cookie dough in a tube is for eating raw.)

It's a good fragrance. I like it. I don't like it enough to pay $170, though. Maybe I'd buy it if it were $60. If Original Vanilla perfume oil smelled more like this, I'd buy that.

But if you've got $170 to burn, and you like smoky cookie dough and singing the Labyrinth Zone song (feel free to add your own lyrics), then be my guest.

People of the Labyrinths Luctor et Emergo is available at LuckyScent.com.

Bath and Body Works - Violet Bouquet

Violet Bucket. Bile Bucket. Vile Bouquet. Violent Buffet?

The new limited-edition fragrance hits Bath and Body Works stores today, and as soon as I get a chance I am running out there and stocking up. It's a great, light candy-violet fragrance, and violet is so hot right now. I think maybe violet is the new green tea.

Oh, how I have waited and waited for Voylent Bookay Day.

Also they're coming out with Gardenia or something like that. It's OK I guess.

Lucky Not Yucky

I swear, the exact moment I posted my last entry, my sample order from LuckyScent arrived in the mail!

It's a sign. It's a sign that I was destined to... blog about perfume.

Also possibly a sign is that the sample vial of Comptoir Sud Pacifique Vanille Quelquechose rolled off the desk, into my lap, and disappeared under my desk. Well, I didn't want to smell like you anyway, Vanille Thing.

Anyway, in case you haven't been, LuckyScent is a lovely website. They've got tons of obscure expensive culty perfumes, and you can get samples of all sorts of stuff for $2 per and up.

What's that smell?

It's me, isn't it?

For quite some time--months and months and maybe years--I'd had the brilliant idea of having a website where I review perfumes, though I'm far from professional at it. Just like Manolo loves the shoes, I love the stinks. (I know I may come off as derivative, but I had this idea long before I discovered the world of accessory blogs. I swear on the house of Creed.)

Anyway, it took me until today to realize that, duh, blogs are free, and just as good. This is my first time working with Blogger, so be patient if things get screwy.

So enjoy and spread the word! I'll be starting by writing about fragrances in my own embarrassingly large personal collection, and maybe then I'll move on from there.