November 2008 Archives

Louise Vuitton Cuts Prices in Japan to Boost Sales:
"LVMH, the world's largest maker of luxury goods, lowered retail prices for its Louis Vuitton brand in Japan by 7 percent yesterday to boost sales . . . The price cuts apply to nearly all items sold, including bags, watches, apparel and shoes, at the company's 56 stores in Japan . . . Louis Vuitton sales fell 7 percent in Japan in the first nine months of the year, the report said."

Louis Vuitton has never cut its prices. Ever. They won't even put anything on sale. It's always been "Our products are so deliciously hot and desirable that consumers will pay anything to get their hands on what we sell!" But hey, times are tough all over.

Maybe they wouldn't have to resort to cutting prices if they had something more to offer than just endless variations on a logo:

Matthew Williamson is Next In Line for H&M:
"H&M's tradition of bringing in guest designers has been a big hit for the group, which is contending with a tough environment for retailers. Williamson will start with a women's range at some stores on April 23, followed by men's and women's summer clothes to be offered from all H&M outlets from mid-May."

Matthew Williamson just recently stepped down from being head designer for the Emilio Pucci line so that he could focus on his own namesake brand. His high-concept designs are a best-kept secret among stick-thin celebrities and socialites with eating disorders (and they're about the only ones who can afford them, too), but creating a limited edition line for fast-fashion H&M should definitely lift his profile among mainstream consumers. A video clip for the most recent Matthew Williamson collection is below:

High End Shoppers Rein in the Spending:
"Spending Pulse, which estimates retail spending using receipts from MasterCard and other forms of payment reports that sales of what they categorise as 'luxury goods' fell 21.1 per cent in the first two weeks of November compared with the year 2007 . . . Stephen Sadove, chief executive of Saks, an American luxury department store chain, says: 'I don't think any of us anticipated that high-end customers were going to fall off as dramatically as they have.'"

Meanwhile, "Ad pages at the top luxury magazines fell 22 percent year over year for the December issues, according to Media Industry Newsletter. Vogue, for example, dropped from 284 pages last December, to 221 pages this December, while Food & Wine went from 160 pages to 126, according to the newsletter."

We probably won't be seeing advertising spectacles like the clip below for at least a few years:

In related news, luxury companies still hope China can help them survive losses in the West: "'It is estimated that China will grow 8%, lower than a previous 11% originally estimated, but it is far from recession,' Versace Chief Executive Giancarlo Di Risio said at the Milano Fashion Global Summit 2008 . . . Versace, which recently said it expects limited effects from the global financial crisis on its sales, expects China to surpass Japan as its biggest single market in Asia."

Though I'm not so sure that counting on China for an economic goose on the bum is really the smartest move in the playbook: "China's manufacturing shrank by the most on record and export orders plunged, adding to evidence that recessions in the U.S., Europe and Japan are dragging down the world's fastest-growing major economy."

Marc Jacobs pays $1 Million for Bribery Charges:
"Designer Marc Jacobs will soon have one million less dollars after he and his company have agreed to pay a fine to the city of New York stemming from his connection to bribery charges in securing a regular spot at the 26th Street Armory for his fashion shows . . . New York's attorney general, Andrew Cuomo, said that tough action had been taken to protect the reputation of the fashion industry. 'New York City is a global epicentre for fashion and cultural events, and we will not allow corruption and greed to tarnish one of our most lucrative industries.'"

James Jackson, the manager of the Armory who demanded the bribes from parties interested in snagging the prime location for public or private events, is facing up to 15 years in prison.

Sex and the City Sequel is a Go:
"Sarah Jessica Parker has confirmed plans for a Sex And The City movie sequel in 2010, but she and writer/director Michael Patrick King are struggling to pick a storyline . . . 'We've had very general conversations about the idea. That's the big hurdle: the idea. The studio is very enthusiastic, which is lovely and seductive. We're at the place where Michael has a wealth of stories so now it's, 'We think we have this story and how do we put this together and are we completely sure that it's the right thing to do?'"

If we're still slogging through an economic recession in 2010, when the film is scheduled to be released, the shop-til-you-drop ethos of SATC might prove to be just the escape that fashion-friendly movie audiences will be craving. Clip below from the filming of SATC -- some random spectator on the street filmed them filming the movie:

In related news, Selling upscale items during an economic downturn: "Many experts believe that the economic pain of the deepening recession could fall disproportionally on ... marketers of high-end perfumes, trendy clothing or sleek fashion accessories . . . A study by Bain & Company released in October found signs of a slowdown in the personal luxury goods sector, which includes shoes, jewelry and fashion, with sales falling 3 percent to 7 percent in 2009 if current trends continue . . . 'This is not a time to panic,' Alexandra Gillespie, who launched her own FLR Group for luxury marketing after a stint as senior vice president of Gucci, said. 'This is a time to define and redefine the brand.'" Sales in elite luxury houses are said to have dropped from $225 billion last year to $172 billion this year.

And remember all those articles just six months ago predicting the death of the "IT" handbag and the birth of the "IT" shoe trend? Well, shoe sales have stumbled, while classic bags, fragrance and homeware sales are up. "Everyone got it wrong about shoes," says Averyl Oates, buying director at Harvey Nichols. "We thought they were going to be the new It bags. We overdid it. The mags overdid it. The buyers overdid it."

A video clip below of the shoes that started a (fizzled) revolution:

What am I thankful for this day after Thanksgiving? Fragrance companies that don't cheap out, wimp out or fake out.

After gritting my teeth and trudging through Ava Luxe, Boudicca and Neil Morris on Wednesday, it's my pleasure to spend today awash in Frederic Malle and Roja Dove, two high-end lines that take the task of perfume production seriously.

DANS TES BRAS: You know how the Malle Vetiver Extraordinaire was earthy and excellently crafted yet, in the long run, just not distinctive or interesting enough to cause my credit card to spontaneously burn a hole through my wallet? Well, Dans tes Bras is earthy and excellently crafted and if I don't get my wallet out of my pocket in about two seconds, I'll need the entire Dallas fire department to hose down the inferno.

I've admired the Frederic Malle line for its uncompromising commitment to quality, even though I had yet to experience an "Oh, okay -- this belongs on my trophy shelf, like, yesterday" moment while sniffing away at sample vials. Dans tes Bras, however, belongs on my trophy shelf, like, yesterday!

Right from the start, Dans tes Bras leaps from the bottle in a big old schnozzful of roots and spice with a subtle ambered sweetness hovering in the background. What would ordinarily be a soft powdered iris root is butched up with an injection of dry clove spice, camphorlicious patchouli and the high, sharp stab of violet leaves, then smothered in a special sauce of smooth musks and resinous woods that hurts so good you forget to say "Ouch!"

Shake, bake and slam-dunk.

I now know what Simon Cowell must feel like when, at the tail end of a full weekend of torturously deluded performances, in through the door walks some genuine, honest to god talent: "Finally! And thank you!!!"

Perfectly suitable for both men and women -- classy on the guys, striking on the gals. The white musk drydown may be soft and subdued, but it's still hanging in there.

Maurice Roucel is the name you'll find on the label. He's also the perfumer behind Gucci Envy, Bond No. 9 New Harlem, Hermes 24 Faubourg, Shalini Shalini, Le Labo Labdanum 18, Lolita Lempicka L and a long list of other accomplishments, not to mention Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur.

ENSLAVED: I hate the name, but the fragrance is terrific --big, bold, dramatic and completely over the top, but in a hedonistic and decadent fashion rather than hyper-fussy or muddled.

With a roster of scent notes that reads like a Who's Who manual of "Ingredients Guaranteed to Get Up in Your Grille," Enslaved is a throwback to the glory days of the classic orientals, stuffed with so much awesome awesomeness that you wonder how they could even fit it into a bottle, much less on planet Earth. Bergamot, Orange, Lemon, Geranium, Orange Blossom, Rose, Ylang-ylang, Jasmine, Carnation, Clove, Oakmoss, Cedarwood, Vetiver, Patchouli, Labdanum, Ambergris . . . is there anything this fragrance is missing? Besides subtlety, manners and good breeding, I mean -- but who cares about good breeding when you're having so much fun?

More powdery sweet than Dans tes Bras (likely due to the inclusion of ambergris, plus the laundry list of fruits and blossoms), and ten times stronger as well, Enslaved is the prime accessory for towering heels, updos, slink-a-dink dresses, push-up bras and Happy Hours that lasts all night long.

If I smelled this on a woman, I'd think she was dragging a full luggage rack of bravado behind her. If I smelled this on a man, I'd think he was insane. Or a screeching drag queen. Or both.

Wrap it up: Frederic Malle Dans tes Bras -- high class in a clear glass bottle; Roja Dove Enslaved -- Vero Profumo Rubj's loud, boisterous cousin. No one's sayin' that's a bad thing.

FETISH: I don't really agree with the title, as there's nothing that strikes me all that fetishistic about Fetish, with its rather subtle and somewhat sweet nature. I suppose it was meant to be a dark, leathery experience (hence: "fetish!"), but there's too much restraint in the mix to take its stated feint at psycho-sexual obsession seriously.

I'm generally not much a fan of the often overly simplistic Neil Morris style, and I haven't even written about all the Neil Morris perfumes I've actually sampled, since a few of them were just too dull and/or awful to spend the time typing about (i.e. Hologram, Prowl, Dark Earth -- meh, meh and double meh), but Fetish works a little harder than, say, his Burnt Amber or Dark Season fragrances, and it wears close to the skin so that the warmth of the body eventually becomes the warmth of the fragrance, which is a nice touch.

There's some burnt sugar and smoke in the drydown, and maybe a bit of cigarette ash and fine saddle leather, which makes me think that perhaps this "fetish" is more Morris' personal fondness for the glam butchitude of classic Hollywood screen sirens like Marlene Dietrich and Barbara Stanwyck -- tough and preternaturally feminine -- than any contemporary fetish as explicated by the likes of Quentin Tarantino.

I take my positives where I can find them.

I'm not sure I'd recommend Fetish as a full bottle purchase (it's pleasantly attractive, though lacking in spark and drive), but if you gravitate to the more unisex side of the spectrum, you likely won't regret spending a day wearing a sample of it.

A clip of Barbara Stanwyck below:

WODE: I don't "get" this fragrance. I know I know, it's supposed to be very hip and British and wow, but it smells like . . . a bulb of fresh fennel, kind of green and celery stalk-ish, with anise seed mixed in.

And it never gets any better.

The EDT version of Wode apparently turns blue when you spray it on your skin, then vanishes like some kind of disappearing ink act, but I'm testing the EDP version so I don't have the luxury of irrelevant visual trickery to distract me from the fact that this is a piss-poor excuse for a perfume, no matter whose fartsy Trend Of The Moment designer name is slapped across the bottle.

Unless, of course, you actually enjoy smelling like you just rolled around in the salad bar at your nearest Pizza Hut. Obviously, I don't.

KRETEK: A cold clove cigarette stubbed out in a dirty ashtray. I spent a good portion of my early twenties smelling like this, but only because I was hopelessly mired in the idea that dark, filthy, smoke-filled bars full of drunk and depressed pseudo-hipsters was, like, really cool.

I have to wonder at what point the Ava Luxe people will stop tossing out half-baked scent memories like this and focus instead on producing and supporting a much smaller roster of viable, genuine perfumes that smell like they took longer than three weeks to cobble together.

I mean, have you been to the Ava Luxe website lately? As of today, they offer a total of 111 fragrances broken down into 28 florals, 6 fresh fragrances, 11 gourmands, 19 animalic/musks, 26 woods/resins, 26 orientals, 7 fruity/citrus types, 9 chypres and 6 green fragrances (there's some overlap). 111 different perfumes! Enough is enough.

Ava Luxe has produced a few decent individual scents (Incense Rose, Opopnax Intense), but as a whole, they're starting to remind me of those companies that manufacture truckloads of cheap, clinky jewelry for an easily distracted pre-teen market, a market that happily turns colorful magnet necklaces made of recycled bottle caps into a multi-million dollar industry.

'Nuff said.

In Summation: Neil Morris Fetish -- perhaps; Boudicca Wode -- I think not; Ava Luxe Kretek -- when hell freezes over.

Unlike Vero Kern's Onda, which is a fragrance I wanted to love but was forced to ditch at the altar after it mutated from a breath of rich earth and grass into a jug of laundry detergent (but that's just my experience -- Onda sends other wearers into what can only be described as near ecstasy), Rubj managed to grab my attention from the get go and never veered off course for the duration of its journey.

Allegedly crafted as a response to the sexually intimate writings of 16th century scholar Sheikh Nefzaoui, Rubj is an opulent floral that even a woods and leather fragrance fanatic can enjoy. The orange blossom intro is pulpy tart and tangy acidic; the cool, white, night-blooming jasmine at the heart is captured as if in mid-flight; and the musky base is one smooth slip-n-slide into warm, embraceable goodness swathed in layers of patchouli and sweet smoke.

Unabashedly romantic in nature, Rubj exhibits a dramatic streak a mile wide and it's pretty much Game Over once it digs its stilettos into the parquet. Uniquely suitable for the dressiest of parties as well as the most naked of ambitions, though I wouldn't recommend it as a good choice for the office -- unless your sole aim is to seduce the boss and embroil the company in scandal, in which case I say, "Pour it on!"

ADDED:

For no discernible reason, I decided to do a quick test drive of CB I Hate Perfume Patchouli Empire and L'Artisan Merchant Loup after finishing with Rubj.

L'Artisan Merchant Loup is a big dose of Aunt Betsy's spice drawer, with special emphasis on the cloves. Not terrible, but by no means particularly elegant, either -- rather, Merchant Loup begs for a heavy wool sweater, a cold rainy day and a mug of hot spiced cider in your hands. In fact, it actually kind of smells like a mug of hot spiced cider.

CB Patchouli Empire is a straight-forward, straight-up interpretation of everyone's favorite natural bug repellant. Said to be a blend of five different types of patchouli and a dash of black pepper, Patchouli Empire (once it settles down from its near noxious intro) is a rather striking example of how good patchouli can get when it's shaped by the right hands.

Not sweet, or floral, or anything at all that might cover up the inherent leafy, woodsy, au naturale beauty of a quality patchouli scent, P.E. is interesting enough on its own, but would be a great layering fragrance -- use it to add earthy depth or forested oomph to something else in your collection, like L'Artisan Merchant Loup, for instance.

If there's one thing to greatly appreciate about the fragrances from Sonoma Scent Studio, it's that there are no coy titles or misleading descriptors -- you get exactly what the fragrance says it is, with no beating around the bush about it.

I wonder sometimes if this is a uniquely American trait when it comes to perfumers. I've mentioned this in previous reviews for Sonoma Scent Studios, but it bears repeating: perfumer Laurie Erickson works much in the same vein as Neil Morris and Christopher Brosius, exhibiting a fragrance trend in which the perfumer is upfront and bluntly honest about his/her craft while creating scents that cut right through the traditional bull***t of mainstream fashion marketing and hype.

All four fragrances I tested today are solid pieces of craftsmanship, featuring charming intros and lively mid-phases, with three of the four moving into enjoyable drydowns, as well.

My favorite of the four is probably SIENNA MUSK, but only because it does that spicy, woodsy trip across the musk-rope that I seem genetically predisposed to like. A surprisingly inventive balancing act that teeters on the edge of gourmand yet has the good sense to counterbalance its warm, orangey-sweet spices with a well-chosen combo of cypress and cedar woods. The drydown is a pleasantly sweetened amber-musk that refrains from overdoing it . . . in any direction.

VINTAGE ROSE is a casual plum-flavored rose that reminds me somewhat of Le Labo Rose 31, only with the woods turned way down and the rose cranked way up. It goes slightly powdery at the end, but it's still one of the better dark rose fragrances you'll find at this price point. Drydown is a somewhat powdered, earthy rose, though not as sweet as Sienna Musk so it could easily work as a masculine floral.

WOOD VIOLET is lighter in character than the previous two, and the same plum note featured in Vintage Rose is included here, as well. It makes for a nice stepping stone from the green note of violet leaves to the woods, musk and spice mix that follows (the clove and cedar play nicely together). Drydown is soft, dry and almost Houdini quiet.

CHAMPAGNE DU BOIS rounds up the selection with Jasmine adding a velvety floral touch, reaching across the woods and amber to connect with the vetiver root in the base, resulting in a near holographic interpretation of the full flower -- petals, leaves, stem, earth and roots; unfortunately, the drydown had a tendency to move in and out of sour on me, which is too bad, as I really enjoyed the green shimmer of the jasmine flower in contrast to the deeper base elements.

But all in all, these are four good ideas supported by an adept hand in the mixing lab.

So Louise came to visit, and we spent some time hitting one of the malls here in Dallas. Knowing that the more upscale department stores are experiencing financial tension due to the down-spinning economy, we figured we'd cruise through Neiman Marcus and see what they had on sale.

Little did we know that meant over half the entire store.

Seriously, the aisles were crowded with long tables filled with handbags at 40% off, the shoe department was just one huge grab-bag of sale items, and we got separated more than a few times by acres of reduced price blazers amid a sea of half-off trousers. We even had to dust off our Marco Polo skills when she inadvertently got lost in a maze of discounted Burberry trenchcoats. I finally found her, dazed and weak, clutching for support at a rack of "take an additional 15% off the marked sale price!" Tod's totes.

We barely made it out alive -- though she did manage to score these awesome Marni platform pumps right before we fled:

I love the design of Marni shoes -- much more so than their apparel or handbags, though that doesn't mean the apparel and handbags are unworthy of consideration, they're just less sleek and sexy than the towering platforms and MOMA-ready wedges.

Consuelo Castiglioni is one of the few fashion designers to which the word "visionary" could genuinely be applied, and Marni shoes are always cutting edge, more like pieces of modern architecture than mere footwear. The tweed, wood and leather combo on the pair above is a perfect example of the "so crazy it's cool!" ethos that infuses the entire Marni line.

The shoes fit Louise like they were made for her, too. Honestly, a well-designed, well-crafted pair of shoes is a wonder to behold. I almost feel fortunate that we were able to rescue them from the ignominy of the sale rack (where they so did NOT belong).

But nobody's buying anything that's not on sale right now. The name brand boutiques we walked past on our way to Neiman Marcus were empty of customers -- every single last one of them: Valentino, Burberry, Oscar de la Renta, Michael Kors, Salvatore Ferragamo, Bottega Veneta. Empty empty empty empty empty and empty. And it was a Friday night, when there should have been a lot of foot traffic, even if it was to just look around.

Louise mentioned several times that she thought the whole "Everything Must Go!" vibe was kind of scary.

ADDENDUM:

We also snagged these Henry Beguelin shoe boots:

*sigh*

I love Italian design.

Smelly masterpieces: Why is great perfume not taken more seriously?:
"Why is great perfume not taken more seriously? While many art professionals are very serious about many branches of literature, architecture and music, I have yet to find a curatorial colleague who regularly beats a path to the fragrance counter in search of, say, Joy Parfum, the 1930 masterpiece by Henri Alméras for Jean Patou, which, if it were a painting, could hang beside Matisse's nearly contemporary "Yellow Odalisque" in Philadelphia."

As if to add fuel to the "What Is Art?" controversy, comic-book legend Stan Lee was awarded the United States Medal of Arts this week, an award granted by the National Endowment for the Arts.

Excelsior!: Stan Lee Wins Medal of Arts Honor:
"In the 1960s, Lee built the success of Marvel Comics on the backs of his famous characters: Spider-Man, Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, The Fantastic Four, and The X-Men, among many others who are still followed today by millions of fans. Rather than mimic his contemporaries with stalwart, righteous super-heroes, Stan Lee created flawed characters who instantly tapped into the growing pains of his readership."

Perhaps this new perspective on what constitutes "art" has something to do with the following:

Is Google Making Us Stupid?:
"As we use what the sociologist Daniel Bell has called our "intellectual technologies"--the tools that extend our mental rather than our physical capacities--we inevitably begin to take on the qualities of those technologies . . . The idea that our minds should operate as high-speed data-processing machines is not only built into the workings of the Internet, it is the network's reigning business model as well. The faster we surf across the Web--the more links we click and pages we view--the more opportunities Google and other companies gain to collect information about us and to feed us advertisements."

I don't think the Google changing our brains issue is good or bad, it just is. This instant plugged-in nature of our society is bound to affect the way we view the world around us, and that includes broadening our ideas of what is (or is not) art.

If great art is meant to have a deep, lasting impact on our psyches, if not our souls, then who can say that comic books don't belong in that category, especially when you consider the enormous psychological pull comic books have exerted on popular culture for the last fifty to sixty years.

And if you talk to someone who deeply appreciates perfumery, you quickly come to grasp the lasting emotional and intellectual influence a good perfume can exert on its wearer, if not the people around him/her. It's almost like the ultimate in abstract art -- you can't see it, hear it, touch it or taste it, but it shimmers in the air all around an individual or space, creating pockets of inspiration and expression to walk through, around and upon.

I don't agree with the author of the Google article that our continuous and near ceaseless technological interfacing has flattened our intelligence into nothing more than a reflection of artificiality, but I do agree that technology, and in particular the Internet, is reshaping the ways we think about the world around us, including our definition of what constitutes Fine Art.

I have some friends flying in today and we're going out to dinner tonight, but while I wanted to sample something new before they showed up, I didn't want to greet them at the door in a haze of four clashing fragrances, or inflict anything especially challenging on them, either. So I dug through my sample box and "A-HA!" -- the heavens parted, the trumpets blared, and Tom Ford's Amber Absolute stared unflinchingly into my eyes.

I've ragged on Ford in the past, but if there's one thing he's particularly good at, it's knowing how to create products that sell. He may package and market them like they're pieces of art, but he's got the blood of a true salesman running through his veins, so I felt pretty confident that, even if I didn't particularly groove on Amber Absolute, it would be a safe bet for when company arrives.

But what I'm actually a little surprised about is how much I genuinely like the stuff -- granted, it's not going to win any achievement awards for artistry in repudiation of the mass consumption monster, but it's not trying to, either. What Amber Absolute does achieve, however, is uncomplicated affability -- if you appreciate amber as a scent genre, then there's nothing to dislike about Amber Absolute.

It's warm, it's sweet, it's smoky and woodsy . . . it's a f***ing Golden Retriever of a perfume, all wagging tail and approachable, shaggy charm. Miles above anything on offer from Gucci or Dolce and Gabbana, yet without the slightest bit of snobbery about it.

Is it similar to a lot of other quality ambers on the market? Yes. Is it distinctive enough in its own right to warrant purchasing if you already own, say, Annick Goutal Ambre Fetiche, Profumum Fiore d'Ambra, Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier Ambre Precieux or Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan? Probably not. But Amber Absolute is extremely easy to wear, and if you're in the market for a no-nonsense, crowd-pleaser of an amber fragrance, you could do way (way!) worse than Tom Ford Private Blend Amber Absolute.

Other Opinions:

Perfume Smellin' Things: "Delightfully smoky amber: incense, woods and rich amber goodness."

Now Smell This: "Amber Absolute is a honey colored scent infused with the purest form of Amber, joined by a tenacious refrain of African Incense, Labdanum, Rich Woods and a touch of Vanilla Bean."

Victoria's Own: "Swoonworthy is my final verdict to all my fellow amber lovers. Be forwarned, save your pennies or do not sniff at all."

Perfume Posse: "Amber Absolute is not only an amber I can wear easily, but one I love."

Vetivresse: "Deep but not terribly dark or cloyingly sweet, and with a truly memorable incense drydown."

See? I told you it was easy to like!

OFF-TOPIC:

In case there's anyone reading this who battles with extremely dry facial skin in the wintertime the way I do, I want to recommend: Fresh Sugar Face Polish and Fresh Rose Face Mask.

The Sugar Face Polish is a once or twice a week treatment, and it provides an infusion of necessary oils for dry skin, while the hard sugar crystals in the formula are for scrubbing away dead, dried-out skin cells. It stuffs a lot of oil into the skin, so don't use it unless your face really needs it.

The Rose Face Mask can be used every day, and genuinely helps relieve symptoms of tightness and discomfort from over-dry skin -- it also helps combat redness and irritation. If you need additional moisture and find that most skin creams just further irritate your facial skin, you might want to give Murad Redness Therapy Correcting Moisturizer a try. It's light and non-greasy, and contains a slight tint to smooth out redness.

I also use Fresh Brown Sugar Body Polish a couple of times a week for the rest of the skin on my body. Seriously, I dry out like the f***ing Sahara in the winter, especially when I'm working out regularly and often have to shower twice a day. The Fresh Sugar line has been a life saver for me in this regard, and while it imparts a sweet, vanilla-ish aroma, the scent is subtle and won't interfere unduly with any other fragrance you're wearing.

My sample vial was labeled "Vetiver Extraordinaire Dominique Ropion" -- so at first I didn't realize that I was spraying on a sample of a Frederic Malle fragrance until I remembered that Frederic Malle is the only fragrance line that features the names of the actual perfumers on the label. But when you come right down to it, why don't all the fragrance lines do that?

The way that designer labels sell perfumes now is like Sony or Warner Brothers trying to sell a pop album with only their corporate logos emblazoned across the cover: "WARNER BROS RECORDS -- 4 Minutes (to Save the World)" really doesn't offer much insight into what the music might actually sound like, and I wonder if this is why consumers are so confused when it comes to the modern marketplace. Very few fragrance lines employ just one head perfumer, so we have a revolving door of perfumers with their own styles behind a flood of new releases under every major fashion label in the world, and it becomes impossible to know whether we'll actually like the new Dior, Armani, YSL, or Gucci fragrance when the actual talent behind its creation is hidden behind what equates to a corporate curtain.

I mean, how much nicer would it be if, as a consumer, the name of the perfumer was featured on every perfume bottle? That would change the way we shop for fragrances entirely. Stores could cross reference the names with what's currently in production from that particular perfumer, and sales representatives would say: "Oh, you like Dior J'Adore? That's one of Calice Becker's pieces, so you might like to take a sniff at Cuir de Lancome, Secret Obsession and Beyond Paradise, too!" At which point they'd start pulling items off of shelves neatly grouped according to perfumer instead of perfume house.

My god, that would be so much easier for everyone involved . . . so of course it will never happen.

Dominique Ropion, the name behind Vetiver Extraordinaire, is an extraordinarily prolific perfumer, responsible either singly or collaboratively for over 40 fragrances and counting, with numerous mainstream hits to his credit, such as Burberry The Beat, Thierry Mugler Alien, Givenchy Very Irresistible, Calvin Klein Euphoria and Vivienne Westwood Anglomania. He's also the perfumer for two other Frederic Malle releases, Une Fleur de Cassie and Carnal Flowers.

Erin over at Now Smell This proclaims two of Ropion's fragrances, Wet and Une Fleur de Cassie, as strikingly original yet nearly unwearable in public due to their feral, bodily fluid qualities. Vetiver Extraordinaire is, thankfully, neither feral nor unwearable, though it does exhibit a dark, loamy earthiness that might be difficult to handle if you're in the mood for a mist of sweet, floral splendor to start your days.

Vetiver Extraordinaire is said to contain one of the highest concentrations of vetiver essence on the market (25%), accessorized with musks, woods and moss, so you have to be a bit of a fanboy for the inky, damp smell of vetiver root if V.E. is going to get your groove on. Opening with citrus, ground peppercorns and an ozonic tone that evokes the cool bite of a deeply shadowed forest, once the lighter, spicier tones burn off, the fragrance reverts to form and wears like a slice of genuine earth, sprinkled with wood chips and served up on a bone china plate.

While this isn't what I look for when I reach for my own fragrance bottle to kick off the day, it strikes me as an obviously heartfelt rendition of vetiver root on the part of Ropion, and I can admire the quality of the construction even as I'm taking a pass on including it on my shelf.

ADDITION:

I also tested a sample of Claus Porto Musgo Real Água-de-Colónia No. 2 Oak Moss, but it really didn't merit much more reaction than: "Hmmmm, fresh and . . . mossy."

UN BOIS SEPIA: Begins with a cubist-like expression of candied citrus rinds, all angles and planes, made more so by that familiar sinus-clearing element I get at the opening of most every Lutens I've sprayed on my skin.

With Un Bois Sepia, the culprit at the root of this sharpened intro is an exceptionally dry cypress wood, an ingredient I'm usually disinclined to gush over, yet while cypress isn't my favorite scent note to find featured in a fragrance (CdG Monocle Hinoki, anyone?), Un Bois Sepia distinguishes itself with a kinder, gentler version -- a cypress that cues the horns for the fanfare entrance, then wisely dials it back for the duration of its visit.

In other words, it knows the difference between its outdoor voice and its indoor voice.

A commenter on Base Notes states that "I consider Un Bois Sepia to be dried red fruits in a wooden dish", and this is a fair enough summation of how Un Bois Sepia presents itself after the cypress dials back, with the concentrated sugar of dried fruits wrapped in a deep patchouli bow.

I've read some commentary discussing how Un Bois Sepia is overly sugary and sweet, but I didn't find this to be true; in fact, my experience was that the candied citrus sheds the spotlight about two hours in and the fragrance was pretty much a glowing wood/patchouli scent for the rest of its duration, softened with a slathering of incense notes.

If you're a fan of Andy Tauer's L'Air du Desert Marocain, then you'll likely find the drydown phase of Un Bois Sepia appealing, as well. While L'Air du Desert Marocain is a dry, raw cedar fragrance, the layers of sugar and incense in Un Bois Sepia add a not unwelcome coat of polish to the olfactory furniture.

SAVEUR D'ARTICHAUT: Saveur D'Artichaut bills itself as an artichoke fragrance, yet it rides out of the bottle on a plume of citrus notes that are even sweeter and stronger than the intro to Un Bois Sepia. Citrus and cedar? Okay, I can see a certain logic to it, but citrus and artichoke? I feel like I'm being played.

Like Un Bois Sepia, Saveur D'Artichaut takes a few hours to shake off the more heady aspects to its bergamot nemesis, but once it does, it's an attractively salty, herbacious scent, leaning toward the vegetal side of life without totally falling overboard into the wide celery sea (and yes, there's a faint aqueous tint around the edges -- I have no idea where it comes from or why it's there).

A vaguely floral sweetness creeps into view and becomes more and more persistent as the fragrance hits the drydown phase, which is a little disconcerting -- first the citrus opening, now the lightly sweetened homestretch. It seems that the pleasantly salty and warm scent of the artichoke plant at the heart of the perfume is transformed into a riff on the lighter aroma of the artichoke blossom.

Pity. I would have liked a lot more of the former, as this left turn into blossom land only manages to turn what seemed like an unusual concept into yet another vegetal floral perfume, and it's not as if we aren't already up to our hip-boots in all that.

So unless you're the owner of a perfume collection with an aching, artichoke-blossom shaped hole at the center of it, the mishmash that's Saveur D'Artichaut is at times creative and interesting, but it doesn't stand out enough from the pack of niche scents to warrant more than cursory attention.

UPDATE:

After posting this entry, I decided to do an experiment -- I suited up and went to go work out without having first scrubbed off the two fragrances I was testing. I've found that the heat of exercise jumpstarts a fragrance, even if it's the next morning and it was the fragrance I'd applied yesterday.

Sure enough, halfway through my routine, Un Bois Sepia was all revved up and glowing on my skin, full of woodsy patchouli, while Saveur D'Artichaut intensified into an unpleasantly dank and brackish scent; whatever that aqueous note is that Sinfonia added to it -- it's a real deal killer for me.

***Review revised: 11/22/08

I picked up the Bruno Acampora sampler pack from Lucky Scent, and while it's not nearly so nicely packaged as the Ineke sample box, the pack does include a small booklet listing the scents, accompanied by brief descriptions. The booklet is really more about pictures and poetic prose than helpful information, but what redeems the lack of info in the booklet is a carboard sleeve that encases each sample vial, listing the actual, honest to god ingredients rather than some whimsical collection of made-up scent notes.

For example, the list of ingredients for IRANZOL is listed as: alpha-isomethyl ionone, cinnamyl alcohol, citral, citronellol, coumarin, eugenol, geraniol, hexyl cinnamal, hydroxycitronellal, isoeugenol and linalool.

I have no idea what most of these ingredients actually are, but now that I'm armed with the information, I can search the net for my own answers, which is what most of us really want -- I mean, if I were to pick up a package of food from a grocery store shelf and the ingredients list consisted of bulls**t like spirit of life and sea breeze accord, I'd be less informed than when I started, not to mention completely annoyed.

So I absolutely applaud this move toward transparency, and hope to see more of it in the future.

IRANZOL: Bruno Acampora perfumes are produced in a concentrated oil format, resulting in a very soft, yet long-lasting fragrance experience. Every scent to the pieces smells rounded, smoothed out, buffed down, without a sharp edge for miles.

Described in the PR prose as a full-bodied, resin fragrance, "soft, damp green grass and fresh buds in flower in stark contrast to seasoned sandalwood," it's important to note that Iranzol doesn't contain any actual sandalwood or natural floral essences, but is, instead, a nicely blended chemistry project that comes out smelling woodsy and sweetly floral with a damp hay aroma floating through its center.

While many of the smell molecules contained in Iranzol are derived from plants and flowers, they are not actual plant or flower essences, which makes this softly floral, damp woods perfume a rather remarkable product of the modern laboratory. Up against a truly natural fragrance, such as a perfume from Ayala Moriel, Mandy Aftel or Dominique Dubrana, it's easy to tell that Iranzol is nowhere near to smelling like real roses, genuine jasmine or smooth sandalwood, though it does reference such essences with a decent amount of humility.

And it just gets prettier as the day passes . . .

SEPLASIA: Described as "a sensual embrace from an island called desire," there actually is a faint scent of a salty Mediterranean breeze lurking in the background of Seplasia, a hint of seawater and seashells without going unpleasantly aquatic about it.

Actual ingredients listed are: alpha-isomethyl ionone, benzyl salicylate, cinnamyl alcohol, citronellol, coumarin, eugenol, geraniol, hexyl cinnamal, hydroxycitronellal, hydroxyisohexyl 3-cyclohexene carboxaldehyde, isoeugenol and linalool.

As you can see, the ingredient list of Seplasia, though arranged a bit differently, is quite similar to Iranzol, but with the addition of hydroxyisohexyl 3-cyclohexene carboxaldehyde (a soft, floral aldehydic utilized as a blending agent to achieve richness and tenacity) and benzyl salicylate (a balsamic floral molecule that often serves as a foundation for heavier floral elements in the mix). This results in Seplasia as a richer, warmer perfume in contrast to Iranzol's straight-forwardly pretty nature, though both are merely variations on the artificial floral theme.

If you're into light, sweet florals with a bit of damp grass and smooth sandalwood rolled underneath, then Iranzol is your bag of tricks, but if you prefer a warmer, thicker type of floral with a bit of sand and ocean breeze, Seplasia is for you.

So if you have your heart set on a Bruno Acampora fragrance, I'll stand on the sidelines and cheer for the decidedly more woods and rose drydown of Iranzol -- in my opinion, it's lovelier and more satisfying than the somewhat olive-oil drydown of Seplasia.

UPDATE:

I was contacted by Laurie Erickson, the perfumer for Sonoma Scent Studio, who informed me that the lists of ingredients that I saw for the Bruno Acampora perfumes were only partial lists.

Here's a quote from her email: "the ingredients lists you see are usually just partial lists that include the potential allergens required to be disclosed by EU regulations. The list usually also includes the word "fragrance" or "parfum" and that is the all-inclusive term for everything not considered allergenic and thus part of the trade secret for the scent. The US doesn't yet require that allergens be listed so you'll just see the ingredients list as something like water, SD-39C alcohol, and 'fragrance.' ... See if you can find the word "fragrance" or "parfum" in the list and that's your clue that there's lots more unlisted stuff."

And indeed, the word "parfum" preceded the list of allergens that I had mistaken for the entire list of ingredients, so some of the statements regarding ingredient lists in the reviews will be incorrect, but you still get the general gist. Suffice it to say that there is undoubtedly a lot more to the ingredient lists than I had assumed, and there may very well be natural essences included, they just aren't listed (and this might just be where the missing sandalwood is hiding).

Gosh darn it! And I was all happy with Bruno Acampora for what I had assumed was a refreshing transparency. I should have known better . . .

Barbie Turns 50 -- Designers Cash In:
"Teaming up with fashion designers Jeremy Scott and Vera Wang, as well as The Council of Fashion Designers of America (headed by Diane Von Furstenberg), Barbie is to be transformed into a bona fide fashion brand complete with cosmetics collection and runway show . . . A full list of designers has not been revealed yet, but headed by the CFDA they will create life sized outfits that reflect the world of Barbie, for a spectacular catwalk show at February's new York fashion week."

Uh . . . I had no idea the world was clamoring for a Mattel Barbie Doll fashion and cosmetics line, but I can't say I'm surprised. I'm sure it won't be long before a Barbie fragrance hits the shelves, too. Mmmm, the smell of pink plastic!

Video clip below of Barbie in all her commercial glory:

Luxury Brands Cut Prices in the Face of Global Recession:
"For the first time in recent memory, luxury-goods makers are cutting prices on designer apparel, shoes and handbags in the U.S. market ... luxury companies from Chanel to Versace, Christian Louboutin and Chloé are reversing the industry's maxim that luxury prices only move up. The cuts range from 8% to 10% on most products sold in the U.S. . . . 'Never before have we done this,' says Ralph Toledano, chief executive of Chloé ... 'This is an unusual time. You have to be creative at this moment.'"

There was just a report last month that Chanel was going to up the prices on their classic handbags by 20%. The United States and Western Europe are 80% of the luxury brands' market, so with sales deteriorating in the U.S., the bottom line must be looking fairly grim at the moment.

In similar news, retailers are also talking about an increase in returns of merchandise: "The percentage of sales that are returned are expected to rise in 2008 to 8.7 percent, or $219.1 billion, from 7.3 percent a year earlier, said the National Retail Federation, which polled 82 retailers for its return fraud survey."

Get Your Hands Off My Comme Des Garcons H&M:
"After the frenzied debut last weekend in Tokyo of its Comme des Garçons guest designer collection, H&M on Thursday gave the rest of the world a chance to see what all the fuss was about. Large crowds queued up for the launch in Paris, London, Milan, Hong Kong, Shanghai and Manhattan. Shoppers stampeded into stores . . . The Comme des Garçons collection bowed on Thursday in 200 stores worldwide, including eight overall in the U.S. and three units alone in Manhattan . . . An H&M spokeswoman estimated that about 200 consumers were lined up outside the Fifth Avenue flagship at 9 a.m., when the doors flung open. Some had been waiting since 11:30 p.m. Wednesday. "

Store reps noted that the crowd, while excited, was much better behaved than the rowdy mob turnout for the Roberto Cavalli collaboration.

Video clip of the collection:

Making a Buck Off the Back of Obama:
"When he launches a new men's fragrance next month, Sean "Diddy" Combs, the hip hop impresario turned marketing mogul, hopes his sales pitch will resonate with the same consumers who voted for Barack Obama. Mr. Combs said the campaign for the $57 fragrance called "I am King," which is licensed by his Sean John fashion label to Estee Lauder Cos., will telegraph black success. 'When you see Barack Obama, you see a strong, elegant black man and when people see my ad, it's almost like that's the trend,' he said in an interview."

So this is what the results of the last two bruising years of an election campaign translate into -- a marketing opportunity for P. Diddy's new cologne? You stay classy, Mr. Combs.

Limited Edition Dior Fragrances Arrive at Saks:
"To celebrate its 60th anniversary, the House of Christian Dior released La Collection Particuliere last year, a trio of limited-edition perfumes . . . The three fragrances--Passage No. 4, a rose scent; Passage No. 8, with hints of violet and iris; and Passage No. 9, which is billed as a "dazzling tuberose"--were launched exclusively at the Dior Couture ready-to-wear boutique, and have remained somewhat elusive, until now. Starting (November 13th), the line will be available at Saks Fifth Avenue in New York."

Unfortunately, they don't seem to be available (yet?) for online purchase from the Saks website.

And just in case you haven't yet seen the video clip of Luca Turin's talk at TED regarding the science behind the sense of smell:

GUERLAIN BOIS D'ARMENIE: When I first sprayed Bois d'Arménie on my skin and took a deep inhale, I thought: "Oh my god. This is, like, smoky, forested genius!"

I just wish it stayed that way.

Created in 2006 by Annick Ménardo, the perfumer behind Dior Hypnotic Poison and Lolita Lempicka, Bois d'Arménie is said to mimic the scent of Papier d'Arménie -- paper coated with benzoin and burned as an ancient room and air freshener. While it leaps out of the gate as a bang-up wood and smoke fragrance (and I do mean bang-up, as in "Wow, this is nice!"), the benzoin-vanilla creeps in gradually until the entire fragrance is saturated with a soft, cupcake sweetness . . . and I'm sorry, but cupcakes just don't bang anything, up, down, or even sideways.

The good news is that Guerlain had the sense not to completely over-do the sugar content, so I can happily type these words that next appear on your screen: "The included vanilla content is restrained enough to allow the "bois" of Bois d'Arménie some space to breathe." The bad news is that it's the 21st century, we're still making fragrances based on the smell of ancient room-fresheners and I had to type those words at all.

I give it a silver medal in the fragrance sweepstakes, but I'd of easily flung the gold around its neck if Guerlain hadn't resorted to the obvious market-appeasing vanillafication of the incense genre. Not that I blame them; I mean, they are in the business of selling their fragrances -- no matter how beautiful the bottles look all perfectly lined-up on a freshly dusted store shelf -- and vanilla is a very popular essence. Just ask Nabisco.

Mark at Peredepierre writes: "The depth and beauty of it is apparent from the first spray . . . (but) BdA is one of those fragrances whose main fault may be that it is too beautiful; too soft and sweet."

I know it may sound like I'm quibbling over nothing ("Too beautiful? Is that even a real problem?"), but I concur.

BASMA JASMIN: Basma Jasmin is a big dose of pure jasmine, and seemingly little else.

After I applied a few sprays of the Basma Jasmin juice to my wrist, I dragged out my Le Labo Olfactionary and unscrewed the cap on the small vial of jasmine absolute -- yep, just like I thought. A dead ringer.

I can understand the desire of a perfumer to go all unfussy and back to basics, like maybe creating the boot-camp equivalent of a soliflore (a fragrance dominated by the scent of one particular flower), but I'm not so certain that Basma Jasmin is my type of boot-camp soliflore.

When jasmine essence is mixed and matched, or combined and enfolded, into a broader formula, it can be striking if not downright breathtaking; but featured as a solo act, with the volume cranked way up as it is here, it comes across as monotonous and overbearing. It's a quality jasmine, to be sure, but it lacks a good Greek Chorus to soften the blow or comment on its more charming characteristics.

That said, Basma Jasmin would be a perfect fragrance to use as a base if you're into layering your perfumes on your skin ("Hey, you got your Chanel on my Basma!" or something like that). Spray a lightly floral or sweetly fruity perfume over a layer of this potent jasmine brew and you'll likely experience the joy of jasmine in a whole new way.

Note: Just as a test of my own theory, I sprayed a layer of the Guerlain Bois d'Arménie over the Basma Jasmin I was already wearing. Bingo! The two fragrances brought out the best in each other -- the vanilla sweetness of Bois d'Arménie lent a soft femininity to the jasmine soliflore while the spicy Basma punched up the smoky forest tones in the Guerlain. Nice.

I first read about the Ineke fragrance line on the Smell-O-Vision website, and due to Smell-O's enthusiastic description of their products, I cruised on over to the Ineke website and ordered their sampler box, the Ineke Deluxe Sample Collection.

The sample box is decidedly modern and upscale in its presentation, exhibiting a minimalist flair, and it won an Editors' Choice Award from CPC Packaging magazine. The cool, sophisticated look also impressed the editors at Vanity Fair magazine and they ran a puff piece on the Ineke line for their Vanity Mirror section:

"Ineke Ruhland's Ineke perfumes are best seen as parts of a whole, like the stanzas of a poem or the chapters of a book. Each fragrance in the five-piece collection has a lyrical name inspired by a different letter of the alphabet, and the scents evoke the stories displayed on the boxes through original photos, artwork, and snippets of verse. Ruhland will add a new fragrance every year until she arrives at the letter Z."

I (of course) dove straight for the deepest, richest of the scents -- Evening Edged in Gold. It's a great big leathery floral with life flowing through its veins, probably along the lines of what Hermes Caleche might have been before it was reformulated into the thin, wan ghost of a leather it is today: honied, spicy, huge (though it hits its drydown with a much lighter touch).

It's the kind of fragrance my floriental-loving sister would adore, and while it's likely too bold and aggressive for her to wear to work, she'd definitely take a nose-dive into the stuff on her weekends off.

Below are photos of the Deluxe Sample Collection -- as always, click on the photos to see larger versions hosted at Flickr:

Re: new camera -- I upgraded from a Canon PowerShot SD1100 IS to a Canon Powershot G10. I think the color and clarity of the photos show a significant improvement, not to mention that the digital files require far less tweaking in Photoshop to compensate for distortions.

It's amazing what you can get out of a lightweight, compact camera these days.

HERMES CALECHE: Since Hermes has just recently released a concentrated version of their Kelly Caleche (which many consumers and reviewers considered a whispery, mild-mannered disappointment to the leather fragrance genre -- Grain de Musc goes so far as to call it "one of Jean Claude Ellena's many variations on the smell of water"), I thought it might be nice to take a virtual time-travel jaunt and visit the original Caleche, first released in 1961 and spawning numerous flanker fragrances since then: Caleche Soie de Parfum, Caleche Eau Delicate, Kelly Caleche and the previously mentioned Kelly Caleche Parfum.

Caleche was one of Hermes' best selling fragrances for several years after its release -- bold and classically structured, it dispenses with any sweet, flowerpot pleasantries and aims its arrow straight for the warm, musky bullseye.

There's a small floral bouquet that sneaks in about halfway and chats up the amber in the base, but then both of them exit the party and pile into the back seat of a waiting taxi, leaving us to the one-two cha-cha-cha of skin musk until it fades away altogether.

I expected Caleche to exhibit a good to excellent lifespan on my skin, but it turns the volume way down not three hours into it; meanwhile, Tolu and Ambra Nera are still chugging from the keg and scoping the joint for lampshades.

Okay, Caleche doesn't disappear entirely, but it turns into a far more muted affair than I really want out of something that calls itself a leather fragrance. So, great, it suffers from the Hermes curse: "Help! I'm so classy, mannered and calm that no one can even tell I exist!"

This lack of vitality (or is it a lack of passion?) is a common complaint I have with Hermes fragrances, especially when they're of the Jean Claude Ellena variety, though I don't know what excuse Caleche can offer since it pre-dates by several decades Ellena's arrival as head perfumer for Hermes.

Short and pithy version: nice first impression, too bad it wimps out half-way through. The plus side to the equation is that you can wear it in close quarters without asphyxiating anyone, which, now that I think about it, is actually a pretty big plus.

UPDATE:

A commenter chimes in below with the notion that Caleche is not stated as including musk in its ingredients, but while the jumble of "notes" for Caleche appear to vary wildly from site to site, I found a listing on Amazon that states: "Caleche has a floral heart composed of jasmine, rose, iris, gardenia, ylang-ylang, and bergamot. Lingering notes include: sandalwood, oakmoss, cedarwood, vetiver, amber and musk."

There's even a listing for Caleche at Costco (Hermes at Costco -- I love it!) that says: "A refined and classic floral fragrance. Hermes Caleche offers a subtle blend of gardenia, bergamot, and iris with natural undertones of oak, amber, and musk."

I guess I'm not the only one with a nose for the musk in Caleche.

ORMONDE JAYNE TOLU: Based on the scent of Tolu Balsam (the resin from a tree in Peru), Ormonde Jayne's Tolu opens big and orange-rind sweet, then settles into a much more sophisticated and balanced groove, with wafts of green herbs and a light medicinal touch weaving in and out of the tonka and amber sweetened mix.

Robin at Now Smell This gives Tolu a reluctant thumbs-down, claiming "Tolu is the only fragrance from the (Ormonde Jayne) line that I simply can't wear. It starts with a lovely, spicy-aromatic orange blossom, then quickly turns into a heady mixture of sweet resinous notes."

Which is true enough, but what Robin doesn't note is that Tolu evolves -- it isn't heady and sweet for its entire lifespan, though, to be fair, it might be heady and sweet for, like, an hour or two longer than she could really bear. I blame the tonka.

But the redeeming factor about Tolu is that it gets lighter and brighter as time passes, so if you can hang on through the initial heavy, oriental sweetness, you'll emerge on the other side in a shimmer of almost cool, herbal freshness; still sweet, but no longer huge and overpowering about it.

SUSANNE LANG TAMBOTI WOOD: I don't have a lot to say about Tamboti Wood, except that it's probably unfortunate that it finds itself in the company of Caleche, Tolu and Ambra Nera.

While on another day I might have admired its simple, direct character, next to these other three powerhouses, it merely comes across as overly linear. This isn't necessarily a fault in and of itself, but Tamboti Wood's lack of development is not scoring any points today.

Don't get me wrong -- Tamboti Wood is well-enough a decent, woodsy perfume, and it is terrifically dry (not a dollop of sugar or a bouquet of flowers for miles, with plenty of crisp, crackling logs to throw on the fire), but Tom Ford's Italian Cypress beats the stuffing out of it for sheer, wearable, wood-fragrance pleasure. Le Labo Rose 31 would also be a much more interesting choice, imo, though Tamboti Wood's price point is a hell of a lot more affordable than either of those.

Tamboti Wood does score points, however, for lasting on the skin longer and stronger than Hermes Caleche, and its earthy, salty drydown, a combo of grass roots and what I could swear is a dusting of cinnamon (is that the sandalwood?), ranks as a positive on the overall scale.

FARMACIA SS. ANNUNZIATA DAL 1561 AMBRA NERA: Just like Farmacia SS Annunziata's Patchouly Indonesiano was a no-holds barred, take no prisoners version of patchouli, so Ambra Nera is a rich, potent brew of an amber, enfolding the bright knife-edge of eucalyptus and the inky green stain of vetiver root into a thick, resinous, vanilla-sugar base.

Imagine stumbling across a huge sugar-cookie house at the center of an old growth forest, and that pretty much sums up Ambra Nera: dark, woodsy, grassy and impossibly delicious, with an aroma so bewitching you'll find yourself shoved face-first into some old crone's pizza oven before you can rouse yourself from your amber-induced stupor long enough to object.

The amber at the perfume's core does tone itself down little by little as the fragrance develops, making space for drier, more forested elements to stretch out and breathe. The result is a drydown that's not nearly so viscous as its sticky-bun introduction, but there's still the persistent stamp of powdery sweet vanilla to the end . . . and it lasts for a really long time.

FARMACIA SS. ANNUNZIATA DAL 1561 PATCHOULY INDONESIANO: Holy Moly, Mama Mia and Mother F***ing Bejeebus! It's clobberin' time!

Die-hard patchouli purists are going to feel like they've keeled over and landed in heaven once they get a whiff of Patchouly Indonesiano -- but If you're not a die-hard patchouli purist? Then I'd suggest you stand back, or maybe even clear out, cuz you'll just be a mildly annoying human speed-bump in this thing's way and there's simply no dignity in a fate comprised of scraping yourself off the linoleum.

Lucky Scent lists the ingredients of Patchouly Indonesiano as Indonesian patchouli. Period. No sweeteners, no flowers, no spices, no extra nuthin' -- it opens like a camphorlicious stink-bomb and rides that blast all the way to its god given, pure patchouli conclusion of stark, nuclear glory.

For serious patchouli fanatics only. Proceed with caution and wear at your own risk. Really. I'm not kidding around here.

PARFUMERIE GENERALE INTRIGANT PATCHOULI: After the knock-out blow of Patchouly Indonesiano, Parfumerie Generale's Intrigant Patchouli seems like nothing so much as a sweet, powdery imposter to the patchouli throne -- which isn't necessarily a bad thing, depending upon your point of view.

While Patchouly Indonesiano introduces itself with a power-punch to the olfactory-plexus, Intrigant Patchouli initially comes across as a sweet, feminine dear of a thing, inviting you over for tea and serving the crumbliest of vanilla scones, the flakiest of chocolate croissants and the butteriest of toast squares as you sip your piping hot almond tea from the family china that she inherited from her grandmother who just recently passed away (god rest her soul).

Intrigant Patchouli does eventually shed some of the sweet layers to allow its patchouli heart to shine through, and in any other context I might remark that it deepens into an attractive woods and musk fragrance laced with traces of chocolate and honey, but honestly? Next to the iron fist of Patchouly Indonesiano, PG Intrigant Patchouli is as soft and elegant as an elbow length velvet glove.

Now, if I could just figure out how to put the two of them together into one bottle, they'd make the perfect camphorish woodsy chocolate patchouli perfume. Oh, wait -- someone already beat me to it.

I would love to smell this as a retail fragrance: Space 'smells like steak and metal'

"Outer space smells like hot metal, fried steak and the welding of a motorbike, scientists suggest. A chemist is recreating the smell to help Nasa to train its astronauts. Nasa asked Steven Pearce, the managing director of Omega Ingredients, which makes fragrances, to recreate the scent after hearing of his work creating smells for an art exhibition in July . . . Mr Pearce is interviewing astronauts to help him with his task. 'We have already produced the smell of fried steak, but hot metal is proving more difficult,' he said. 'We think it's a high-energy vibration in the molecule.'"

Can you imagine? Walking around smelling like outer-space? The idea is highly appealing.

But in the absence of new, true, space-age perfumery, I'm reviewing a couple of fragrances that have recently hit the market: Eau d'Italie Baume du Doge and Tom Ford Italian Cypress. While neither are the least bit futuristic, they both represent steps into new frontiers for their respective houses.

TOM FORD ITALIAN CYPRESS: This is the kind of Tom Ford fragrance I've been waiting for -- creative, interesting, slightly off the beaten path. While I've appreciated some of the other fragrances in his Private Collection line, I always got the nagging impression that they were test marketed to near death and so gelded of anything that might have truly set them apart from mainstream sensibilities.

Not that Italian Cypress breaks new ground, but it does push its woodsy envelope in a direction that's surprisingly left-of-center for Mr. Ford, which might explain why it's first being test marketed as an "exclusive" -- for sale only in the Tom Ford boutique in Milan, Italy at this point, with a potential worldwide launch rumored for later this year (though I fear the fragrance might get slightly tweaked by the time it hits the shores of North America, and that would be a shame).

I often get an over-the-top sense from Ford's fragrances -- they're generally uber-potent, high-flying, "Look ma, no hands!" type of fragrances, yet Italian Cypress deliberately bucks this trend, delivering a subtle, woodsy scent that smells like the real deal, dry to the point of being austere, and tinged with smoke and a pleasantly salty musk.

And that's pretty much it. Italian Cypress isn't about stages of development or its many changing moods; it's about the sensation of crackling, dry wood from start to finish.

There's already talk of Italian Cypress being the most masculine of the Private Blend offerings to date, but I have a hunch there's a horde of female wood-scent fanatics who will tear the internet apart to get their hands on this one. I have yet to purchase a single bottle of Ford's Private Blend series, but I'm impressed with Italian Cypress, and am likely to claim a bottle for my own the moment it hits stateside.

EAU D'ITALIE BAUME DU DOGE: Obviously, Eau d'Italie got the memo about rich oriental fragrances being the new in-thing, because Baume du Doge is sweeter than a wagon load of pre-schoolers on a field trip to the lollipop factory.

Said to be inspired by the spice trade that flourished in medieval Venice, Italy, Baume du Doge is a thick, resinous brew of various incense essences, sweet orange peels and culinary spices such as clove, cardamom and vanilla.

There's a gingery spiciness infusing the powdery sweet vanilla, with frankincense, myrrhe, cloves, fennel and orange essence weaving in and out of the mix. Saffron even applies for a more notable role later in the game. I could easily see Serge Lutens fans going giddy for this new offering from Eau d'Italie, as it serves up all the sweet and spicy goodness of a usual Lutens without any of the tricky intro notes.

Personally, I find Baume du Doge oversaturated with its bright vanilla sweetness, but I'm more the dark amber and dry woods type, so take that for what it's worth. If you like sweet vanilla and incense fragrances, then you'll find gallons of love in a bottle of Baume du Doge.

Baume du Doge was crafted by perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour, who's pretty much a living legend at this point in the world of perfumery. His past credits include the previous four Eau d'Italie fragrances, plus Comme des Garcons Avignon and Kyoto; L'Artisan Parfumeur Timbuktu and Dzongkha; Amouage Jubilation XXV; Lalique Flora Bella and more.

UPDATE (04/22/09):

A photo of the Tom Ford Italian Cypress below:

You can find more photos of the bottle and packaging at the following link -- Photos: Tom Ford Private Blend Italian Cypress

I'm presently reading Celia Lyttelton's The Scent Trail, a book that details the author's commission of a custom perfume from London perfumer Anastasia Brozler (the former head of perfume marketing in Europe for L'Oreál and Estée Lauder), and the subsequent globe-trotting exploration of each of the individual essences that went into that perfume -- what they are, where they came from and how they're harvested, produced or manufactured.

Early on in the book, Ms. Lyttelton notes that Caron's Infini perfume (first crafted in 1912 by Ernest Daltroff and then reformulated in 1970 by Gerard Lefort) took fifteen years to originally complete, and I thought to myself, "Wow! Fifteen years? That must be some perfume." My second thought was, "I have a sample of Infini in my sample box, waiting to be tested!"

I also wanted to test out something from By Kilian, as I've heard much about the line, but have not yet experienced one of their perfumes.

So off we go.

CARON INFINI PARFUM: Apparently, the parfum and EDT versions of Infini are radically different from each other, so for clarity's sake, I'm reviewing the parfum version.

When I first read that Infini was classified as a floral aldehyde, I was all set to don the gas mask and employ the industrial strength solvent to remove all traces from my skin after I took my first whiff, but what I initially experienced is more like the kissing cousin to a classic chypre than any sparkling floral fragrance.

The tuberose comes out of the gate with a bang, and welded to the vetiver root in the base, creates a kind of bitter oakmoss effect, but an oakmoss wrapped in soft, powdered flowers and cushioned by a sweet layer of amber. The oakmoss illusion diminishes after an hour or two, clearing space for the powdered florals to turn it up a notch or two and house party across the forest green floor so that the whole concoction tilts toward the more feminine side of the chart. This is where I finally understand the floral aldehyde classification.

Yet despite the dance of the sparkling florals, Infini manages to keeps its grip on that green element throughout its mid-phase, even introducing a white musk in its base that offers up a faint bit of soapy freshness, but when the polished sandalwood hijacks the DJ booth, that fresh soap scent returns meekly to its wallflower designation.

From there on out, it's mostly an arid sandalwood number: woodsy, unobtrusively musky and not at all sweet or floral -- a homestretch I can live with (and very easily).

Pink Manahattan writes that, "Overall, I find it has a pure, crystalline beauty characterized by a clean (somewhat soapy), green opening and a bold, dry woods finish . . . the heart sings its sweet song without going overboard ... adding a natural sensuality to an otherwise austere classical form. Infini comes across as a cool and sophisticated, elegant scent more than a warm and sensual one."

From what I've gathered elsewhere on the Net, Infini appears to be very much a Love It or Hate It fragrance, yet dismissing it entirely without first appreciating the very distinct stages of development that took allegedly fifteen years to accomplish would be a disservice to both Infini and the art of perfumery.

Worth testing out for its technical wizardry alone.

BY KILIAN CRUEL INTENTIONS: Cruel Intentions is a unisex fragrance built upon a synthetic mimicry of the scent of oudh, the earthy, uber-potent resin harvested from the heart of the Aquilaria tree.

Like any typical oudh based fragrance, Cruel Intentions is somewhat sweet in its own woodsy way. It opens with a burst of sharp camphor tempered by a spoonful of cocoa before picking up speed and racing through a barrage of aromatic experiences, as if the perfumer had smoked a bowl of crack and thought what a clever joke it would be to hurtle a string of individual notes past the wearer, like separate cars on a bullet train.

Dark roses, powdered ambers, toasted vanilla, inky vetiver root, a spritz of fruit rind, tarry birch, dusty patchouli, soft incense, skin musk . . . these all flash past so quickly that I barely have time to register their existence; yet just when I think I might be getting to the point of the thing, Cruel Intentions abandons its mad juggling act altogether and collapses in a muted heap.

It's like a perfume version of The Hare and the Tortoise, with Cruel Intentions zipping and zagging in so many different directions, and so quickly, that it exhausts itself before it can reach a proper conclusion.

By Kilian's packaging and bottles are extraordinarily beautiful, yet Cruel Intentions doesn't quite measure up to its dramatic presentation or its suggestive name. It's not a bad fragrance; rather, it's a story that's told too quickly, with characters and events not nearly striking enough to make me wish they lasted any longer than the few brief moments in which sprint across my skin.

Both fragrances display medium hang-time, and their drydowns cling tightly to the body (with Cruel Intentions more clingy than Infini), but I prefer Infini for the sheer razzle-dazzle of its many-faceted evolution, even though I ordinarily prefer the wood and smoke scents in Cruel Intentions.

OFF TOPIC:

WWD has a sobering article regarding the effect of the economic slowdown on the European fashion industry: The Price of Luxury: Debt Burden Strains More European Firms

"Industry experts believe there's a risk of bankruptcy for some firms as heavy leverage cripples their operations . . . "The majority of luxury groups have solid balance sheets, with cash on their books and limited debt. However, those who have to refinance significant debt...or who do not have sufficient working capital to continue operating, could be in trouble," said a luxury goods analyst for a leading European investment bank, who requested anonymity."

The article notes that luxury houses with good cash holdings, such as Hermes, Armani and Dolce and Gabbana, are in a good position to profit from the pain of over-extended peers. Smaller design firms that face bankruptcy may well be snapped up by houses that are cash rich, leaving firms like Giorgio Armani in a position to become the next Gucci Group.

AFTELIER COGNAC: In a 2005 interview with the San Francisco Chronicle, natural perfumer Mandy Aftel let it slip that the jasmine/licorice combo is a particular favorite of hers for the unexpected ways in which the two essences combine with, contrast against, and support one another. From what I can tell, this combo is at the heart of her hedonistically rich Cognac fragrance.

Add some blood orange essence (which she used wonderfully in her dark chocolate Cacao fragrance), a bit of ginger for that sharp spiky scent you get when you bury your nose in a snifter full of Remy Martin Louis XIII, an olive absolute that imbues the fragrance with the toasted aroma of French oak casks, and voila! The full-on Cognac experience is complete -- warm, smoothly biting and brimming with natural sugars.

Aftelier Cognac can easily be worn by both men and women, and it has that mellow, relaxing feel of drinking a glass of high-quality, caramelized brew while siting in a huge, overstuffed leather chair by a fire. The most overt of the sugars burn off after an hour or so and you're then left with the skin-musk of an indolic jasmine laced with anise and ginger.

A pleasure to wear, and it has a decent lifespan for an all-natural fragrance.

SHALINI PARFUM: Shalini (created for designer Shalini Kumar by master perfumer Maurice Roucel) got a bad rap when it was first released, as it was available only in a decidedly striking, yet ridiculously expensive, Lalique crystal bottle that rocketed the price of the perfume into the stratosphere and resulted in far too many reviews ending with the phrase, "not worth the price."

Ms. Kumar seems to have learned from this mistake, and now has a much more plain, albeit still crystal, bottle on offer for a fraction of the price of the original Lalique version. Yes, it's still expensive, but you're paying for the juice instead of the bottle this time, and the juice is definitely worth it.

First applied to the skin, Shalini's sharp tuberose cuts through the air like a knife, but it's quickly captured and subdued by a white floral and neroli oil mix (neroli is the essence from the blossoms of the bitter orange tree) that softens the tuberose edge, resulting in a delicate, buttery scent that hovers close to the skin. As time passes, the white floral creaminess literally melts into a cashmere-soft tango of musk and sandalwood that I had not at all expected, and found thoroughly enjoyable.

If I were asked to recommend just one perfume for a woman to purchase, it would be this one. Frankly, it's so beautiful with its rich, rounded tuberose and warm, golden base, I'm half-tempted to recommend it for men, as well -- the florals are skillfully blended to create a presence that's compelling rather than overpowering, and there's a terrific shadowy quality at the base that counterbalances any overt sparkle at the top.

Indulging in more masculine imagery, I'd say the piece as a whole glides down the road like a Bentley, crammed under the hood with power and precision but way past any need to prove it. If your idea of a good time is hanging out in a parking lot and revving your engines all night, then Giorgio has a bottle with your name written all over it. Shalini, however, is all about the grown-ups.

In fact, the one thing that might be at all disconcerting about a man wearing Shalini is the crowd of women that would form around him, demanding to know what the h**l it is he's wearing that smells so f***ing fantastic.

***Note: skip the nine hundred dollar Lalique crystal bottle (unless you really have your heart set on it) and go for the 10ml size, instead. Two hundred dollars is still an awful lot to pay for less than half an ounce of perfume, but a little bit of Shalini is all you need.

Brace yourselves, it's a bumpy economic ride out there.

The Luxury Design House Without a Santa Claus:
"Marc Jacobs' annual holiday fancy dress parties are legendary on the New York fashion scene . . . His staff and friends were eagerly awaiting his costume this year at what promised to be one of his most extravagant parties yet - a Rock and Roll circus at Manhattan's Rainbow Room, but the lavish party has been cancelled by Jacobs and his business partner Robert Duffy, because of the credit crunch."

Wow. Marc Jacobs has thrown a holiday party for the last 18 years, rain or shine, so you know that the economic s**t has got to be hitting the designer fan. For an extra kick of sober, take a look at this article about vacant storefronts on New York's Madison Avenue: Madison Avenue Takes Hit From Economic Troubles.

Video clip below from the Marc Jacobs holiday party in '07 (obviously, happier times):

Jewelers are also seeing their sales numbers drop: Sales of high-end jewelry lose their luster: "In Manhattan's famed Diamond District, Wall Street bankers have been known to splurge their bonus money on flashy jewels at Ultimate Jewelry Designs. But Gem Sezgin, one of the store's longtime employees, says big-ticket items have lost their allure among New York's high-rollers . . . Even the smaller, independent jewelers are having a hard time ringing up pricey items, especially after the meltdown on Wall Street left thousands without jobs. Between March and August, 19,000 jobs were lost in New York's securities and financial activities sectors, according to the New York Federal Reserve."

Even Patrick Thomas, chief executive of the allegedly recession-proof House of Hermès, said that sales growth this year would be lower than expected: "We see a general sales slowdown in all countries. The toughest period will be between now and Christmas."

Analysts said that the warning by Hermès was likely to send shockwaves through the luxury goods sector, because if the Hermes customer isn't continuing to spend, then that means no one is spending.

Video clip below of the Hermes Spring/Summer 2009 collection:

Can you hear the sound of a fashion collection screaming if there's no one there to buy it?

HERMES BRIN de REGLISSE: I like Hermes as a brand. Like, but not necessarily love. I admire the craftsmanship, the attention to detail, the quality of the materials used. The designs are classic almost to a fault -- when you buy something Hermes, there's little chance that it will ever go out of style . . . but this might also be my biggest issue with the Hermes line.

I've read blog readers cheer each other on to buy yet one more Birkin bag, as if ten weren't enough -- "but there's a new one in pink ostrich! yellow crocodile! purple suede!" and so on. Last week, I came across a blog post on BagSnob that spotlighted some poor obsessive-compulsive's collection of 74 Hermes bags -- and you know what? They looked almost exactly the same, all lined up next to each other like little shoulder soldiers. The only noticeable differences were the sizing, textures and colors.

I have no issue with the money spent -- it's the woman's money and she's free to spend it on therapy and the appropriate prescription medication for what seems like a serious mental affliction, or, in the absence of both of those, more Birkin bags; but I do take issue with the absolute lack of any creativity involved. I mean, if you're going to exhibit about as much impulse control as a starving wolf at a petting zoo, then a little experimentation wouldn't hurt; after all, there's more to the smörgåsbord of lifestyle indulgence than just fluffy Hermes bunnies on a cracker. Branch out, try something new. It's good for the soul.

And this is what I feel like saying to the corporate heads at Hermes when I sniff at most of their fragrances: "Okay, I get it, you're about understated Q-U-A-L-I-T-Y. Now can you bottle me something that doesn't send my nose into a narcoleptic coma?"

Brin Reglisse is a lavender fragrance that's . . . nice. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it, and it's just about as perfectly balanced as anything you'd expect from Jean Claude Ellena. Dry. Suitable for any occasion. Subtle. Classy. Transparent. Sheer. Unobtrusive. Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Oh, and it lasts about a nanosecond, too, which I would say is a blessing in disguise as it's likely to bore you near to paralysis anyway. I barely escaped with my life.

HERMESSENCE AMBRE NARGUILE: much like the above, only substitute "amber" for "lavender."

To be fair, Ambre Narguile does exhibit much more wattage and lasting power than Brin de Reglisse (though that's hardly much of an accomplishment), and it's an amber that restrains itself from tripping the sugar fantastic -- a point in its favor.

In fact, Ambre Narguile is actually a very pleasant, woodsy-amber fragrance graced with a bit of incense smoke and mellow spices. It's dry. Subtle. Subdued. Classy. Unobtrusive. Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Note: There's always an exception to the rule, and Un Jardin Apres la Mousson is an exception to the Hermes snooze rule. Doblis would be an exception, too, if they still produced it.

OFF-TOPIC (and strictly for entertainment purposes):

It's funny how all it takes is a Star Wars parody and suddenly you're a YouTube sensation; of course, it also helps when you can sing like gangbusters:

Thank to the BF for alerting me to the clip.

LORENZO VILLORESI SANDALO: Italian perfumer Lorenzo Villoresi claims to use "only the finest natural ingredients collected from every part of the globe," with all aspects of perfume production carried out manually.

His Sandalo is based on the essence of Mysore Sandalwood, harvested from the Mysore region of Karnataka, Southern India and considered one of the best sandalwood essences on the market. It opens with a burst of rubbing-alcohol (lavender) and citrus, then quickly settles into a heavier, woodsy routine flanked by some medium-bodied florals (allegedly rose and neroli, but they're so well blended that it's difficult to really pinpoint where they sit in the mix) and underscored with loamy grasses.

Since Sandalo is predominantly (if not 100%) natural, it wears softly (too softly for my taste) and the overall effect is one of a rounded, deep forest scent, replete with a Bambi or two . . . yet for a fragrance titled Sandalo, I'm surprised at how much more I smell the musk and vetiver than the sandalwood; but not to worry, the whole thing pulls a Houdini-worthy vanishing act in well under three hours, so the sandalwood point is moot, anyway.

REGINA HARRIS AMBER VANILLA: Like her Frankincense Myrrhe Rose Maroc Oil, Regina Harris' Amber Vanilla is also a concentrated perfume oil, with a little going a rather long way.

Amber Vanilla is, at first glance, exactly what it's name would lead you to believe -- a resinous fragrance slathered in sweetness, but while the vanilla is definitely recognizable and persistent, it's not a spotlight hog. A smattering of spices play along: cinnamon, maybe clove, and I'm throwing in some coriander just because I wasted time digging into the spice drawer and sniffing at the shaker of ground coriander for comparison's sake -- hey, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon! And as long as we're playing guessing games, I think there might even be some teakwood, strewn with patchouli leaves and rose petals.

Oh, crazy mad scientist, thy name is Regina Harris.

Where was I? Oh, right -- while Amber Vanilla unabashedly tips its hand as it emerges from the bottle in a wave of slightly medicinal iris-root and raw honey, the slow, unassuming evolution on the skin from iris-benzoin-sticky to spicy-woods-and-vanilla-bean-dry is easier said than done, and I'm sure most of us have horror stories we can share of sinking into thick pools of hyper-sugared syrups passing for amber. Thankfully, this isn't the case with Amber Vanilla.

Perfume Smellin' Things goes on some Harlequin Romance Novel worthy tear about it being all Pre-Raphaelite sensuous and St. Theresa of Avila divine, but that just means she likes it, y'all! The Non-Blonde notes that it wasn't until the second date that she fell in love.

Again, I wish this were a spray parfum or EDP rather than a concentrated oil, but that's a minor quibble in the face of quality. Worth checking out if you're on the lookout for an amber fragrance that keeps its feet dry and its hand out of the cookie jar. The bottle is nice, too.

UPDATE:

Amber Vanilla has a serious lifespan -- it's the next morning and I can still smell it on my skin, and not just barely, either. It must be the type of vanilla utilized, as the scent is pretty much strictly vanilla at this late stage in the game.

I don't spend much time scouring ebay for deals as I'm pretty leery of the scamming and counterfeiting that often tries to pass for legitimate transactions, but for some reason I found myself on ebay last week (I think Ann Demeulemeester is to blame), and I fortuitously stumbled across a listing of items from the Annick Goutal Les Orientalistes series -- and at crazy low prices!

I mean, how am I supposed to say no to a 100ml (3.4 ounce) bottle of Ambre Fetiche for only $100.00 when it regularly sells for $175.00? And there were half-price creams and shower gels, to boot!

Can anyone say, "Early shopping for Christmas presents?" Right, I thought you could. Well, I had no problem saying it either, so I closed my eyes, mouthed a prayer and pressed the "buy" button. Not three days later, I had a box of brand new, genuine Annick Goutal products at my doorstep, and in perfect condition.

Prayers answered, my atheism was free to resume. How convenient.

I'm now sitting here in a cloud of Ambre Fetiche as I type this, and dear lord, but I forgot how much I like this deeply smoky, golden juice! I can safely say that I was not a fan of the Goutal line until she introduced the Les Orientalistes series, so I'd say it was a smart move on the company's part as they've most likely managed to rope in a whole new set of eyeballs that ordinarily would have marched right past the Goutal counter on their way to smokier terrain.

The tubes of shower gels and scented creams are tucked away for future use as cheerful holiday stocking stuffers. The BF isn't the slightest bit interested, natch, but the sister? Well, I think she'll be one very happy, richly scented camper.

And yes, of course, there are photos:

JALAINE PATCHOULI: a pure perfume oil that comes in a splashy 6ml cut-glass bottle with a crystal cap, Jalaine Patchouli is soft, warm and sweet -- all at the same time.

Others have commented that this is really an amber/vanilla/musk fragrance rather than anything patchouli, and they have a point -- the patchouli aspect is merely background chatter for the sweet, creamy party kicking into gear, but its presence adds arguably just enough depth and weight to keep the whole affair from drifting away on the next cloud.

Not a hippie-dippie, tree-hugging bone in its body, Jalaine Patchouli is for girly girls (and the people who love them).

You can find my previous review for Jalaine Vetiver here.

PROFUMUM FIORE D'AMBRA: Starts off as a powdery soft, pleasantly sweet amber perfume and crosses the finish line as a musky, woodsy fragrance shrouded in a lightly powdered veil.

Layers of cinnamon and clove (or what the manufacturers call "opium") add a bit of spice, with the ambergris at the base (and it smells like the real deal) diffusing like clockwork to achieve an earthy and sophisticated finish.

Fiore d'Ambre is restrained and feminine -- nothing wild, experimental or unusual, but anyone lucky enough to lean in close will think you smell intoxicatingly lovely. In fact, I think I'm getting drunk on it as I type this . . . *hiccup*

JOSEF STATKUS EAU DE PARFUM: a casual (and allegedly incense-ish) fragrance created several years ago for Lithuanian fashion designer Juozas Statkevicius (Josef Statkus) and now offered for sale in the U.S.

Josef Statkus EDP doesn't tread the gothic, smoky or church ritual incense paths; instead, it's a little sweet (benzoin, amber) and somewhat earthy (coriander, musk), infused with blonde wood notes frosted with a transparent vanilla. The presence of jasmine also serves to enhance its muskier tones.

This started out as an attractive enough perfume, but several hours later, the center turned kind of cumin-musty and off-puttingly sour (which would explain why it's supposedly Anna Wintour's favorite scent) before moving into a vaguely vanilla-ish drydown. Less feminine than Jalaine Patchouli, and not even close to being in the same league as Profumum Fiore d'Ambre.

A customer review at the Lucky Scent website states that Josef Statkus EDP "smells as if someone sprayed on Dune by Christian Dior, and then dabbed some patchouli oil over it." Not even very good patchouli oil, at that. So, yeah, there you go.

REGINA HARRIS FRANKINCENSE MYRRH ROSE MAROC PERFUME OIL: If you're looking for an incense perfume, this is a good one to at least take for a spin. A lovely rose accompanied by a deadly serious frankincense opens the door (dry, dusty, sparklingly woodsy) with the resinous myrrhe taking over about two hours in.

I'm ordinarily not a fan of myrrh, but Regina Harris obviously knows what she's doing, and I find the myrrh utilized here to be more interesting and intriguing than, say, the one that gunked up the works in Aesop Mystra.

After about an hour of myrrh glory, the woodsy frankincense and powdered rose creep back in and then all three traipse merrily, hand in hand, down the incense path. Very nicely done. Soft, muted and plush with a rose note that even the staunchest rose denier can embrace.

I'm not particularly pleased that this is an oil instead of a spray parfum or EDP, as it's very dark in color and dabbing it on could stain what you're wearing if you're not careful, but the high oil concentration keeps any potentially sharp edges (hello, myrrh!) rounded and smooth, so I suppose the format decision was worth it, all things considered.

Regina Harris is a makeup artist, sculptor, photographer, dancer, fashion designer and perfumer. She also designed the elaborate metal bottles for her fragrances. You can find her website here. You can also find more photos of the Frankincense Myrrh Rose Maroc bottle here: Photos: Regina Harris Frankincense Myrrh Rose Maroc oil

I PROFUMI DI FIRENZE CUOLO DI RUSSIA: I enjoyed the one other piece I've tested from Italian perfume house i Profumi di Firenze (Muschio Nero), but I'm not sure about Cuolo di Russia (Russian Leather).

Cuolo di Russia appears to be striving for the tarry, smoky glory of old-time Russian leather, but it takes a long time (almost too long) to develop past its sinus-clearing one-two punch of oakmoss and birch tar and into a . . . uhm . . . less intense one-two punch of oakmoss and birch tar.

Unless you're in the mood for a cold dish of bitter moss and smoke satisfaction (and let's face it -- sometimes, aren't we all?), I'd recommend you take a pass on this one. The smoky finish it reaches four hours after application is indeed very nice, kind of like CB I Hate Perfume Burning Leaves or Sonoma Scent Studio Fireside Intense, but these are meant to be strictly smoky-incense frags, and Cuolo di Russia is supposed to have other, more pressing concerns on its mind.

As far as leather goes, there are much better scents to choose from. For example, I prefer Rote Farina Marke Kolnisch Juchten to Cuolo di Russia, even though the Juchten let me down at the end with a skeletally thin amber. Odori Cuoio is also a keeper.

ABINOAM BELEZA: Pours out of the bottle like a cloud of warm vanilla caramel. I want to eat the stuff off my arm, but in a good way.

Beleza is what Parfumerie Generale Aomassai would be if its celery greens were removed: mouth-watering sugars, smooth blonde woods, a waft of musk. There isn't much else to it, and it has no real development to speak of -- it starts off strong and sweet, and then merely recedes into the distance like the memory of a plate of freshly baked snickerdoodles in a sandalwood forest.

Simple almost to a fault. If you're a junkie for rich, sweet orientals, Beleza could be your next bottle of crack.

ETAT LIBRE D'ORANGE JASMIN ET CIGARETTE: It takes about an hour for the jasmine to drag itself out of the pool of Sweet-N-Low it initially seems to be drowning in, but when Jasmin et Cigarette finally ditches the clanging, metallic, chemically sweetened millstone around its neck, it transforms from "Get this stuff off me!" into "Okay, fine -- grant it clemency, but keep it out of my sight."

I haven't had much luck with Etat Libre d'Orange fragrances in the past, and while Jasmin et Cigarette is unlikely to change my overall opinion of the house, it does manage to develop a decent enough jasmin to its thrust, buffed and polished with a layer of soft musk and swathed in barely there wisps of grayish smoke.

I don't really "get" the cigarette reference, as there isn't anything here that reminds me of the smell of cigarettes, or cigarettes burning, or tobacco; there is, however, a chalky, candied quality that shadows the entire span of the fragrance, and I'm wondering if perhaps this is a tongue-in-cheek play on the concept of the candy cigarettes that used to be sold in drugstores when I was a kid.

If so, it's kind of clever, but also kind of pointless and juvenile.

A good number of people I know rave about this particular fragrance, but you won't find me turning any somersaults or waving pom-poms on its sideline. I wouldn't necessarily object to smelling it on someone else, but its execution strikes me as more whimsical than artistic, and I would never wear it myself.

PARFUMS D'IMPERFICTION O ALQUIMISTA: A mildly spicy tobacco with a little plum jam and amber -- I guess that would make it a sweet, fruity tobacco! I wouldn't have guessed such a thing could roam the earth without the retribution of thunderbolts thrown from heaven, but O Alquimista doesn't overplay its hand with the fruit and jam, so the result is actually more intriguing than blasphemous.

Cedar is not one of my favorite wood scents, as it has a tendency to cut too sharply through the surrounding ingredients, dominating rather than cooperating, but the dry cedar in O Alquimista's base plays nicely with the tobacco leaf essence, and the bits of amber tucked around the edges keep the proceedings soft and casual.

Unfortunately, once the attractive plummy note falls by the wayside, the fragrance loses its sparkle -- the footmen turn back into mice, the coach turns back into a pumpkin and the couture duds revert back to just plain old, off the rack rags.

Translation: lots of promise out of the gate, a big pile of ho-hum at the finish line. I think anyone looking for an earthy, plum-slathered fragrance would be much better served by Indult Isvaraya.