A couple of weeks ago, when I first skidded to a stop in the presence of Mugler’s Angel Liqueur, I wrote, “Like bobbing for fruitchoulis in a vat of vintage port. Massive, tenacious and perversely yummy in a ‘Help! My perfume is stalking me!’ kind of way. I happily steeped in its sweet, cherry-wood and booze infused fumes all day.”
Happily enough that I caved in and grabbed myself a bottle of this “limited edition” tweak to the Angel portfolio (but what does “limited edition” even mean anymore in a global, mass-production world? The number 904118 is stamped on my bottle — so I have bottle nine hundred and four thousand, one hundred and eighteen? How much more special could I possibly feel? I guess I could be Mr. One Million, oooh la la . . . ) and tucked it neatly in among the other bottles fighting for space on what’s become a ridiculously crowded bathroom cupboard shelf.
I might have to do something about my disappearing cupboard space soon — hold a garage sale or something. I could probably open up my own Pike Place Market perfume shop at this point, happily hosing down unsuspecting tourists on sunny weekends: “What? You like it? Three hundred and fifty dollars. No, wait, don’t cry — because I like you so much, I’ll offer you the special sunny Seattle Saturday price of $29.95. Oh h*ll, you can have it for free, I’ll even wrap it up for you. Do you want red or turquoise ribbon? I even have little tinkly silver bells I can tie to the box somewhere OH MY GOD LOOK WHAT I FOUND IN THE DRAWER! The eighteen million four hundred and sixty eight thousand two hundred and seventy second bottle of limited edition Angel liqueur!”
There are some experiences that simply can’t be resold.
But the bottle certainy is pretty — though I hate to admit that it photographs better than it actually looks.
Not that it looks bad in actuality, but I can’t stand at the bathroom sink every 6 a.m., angling the bottle just right and praying for an errant beam of morning sunlight to defy all known cosmic laws and shine directly in through the West facing window. I’d never get a thing done.
I somehow missed the entire Angel hoopla when it debuted in 1992. There are a good number of people who would count me as one of the fortunate ones in this respect, but I was hanging around with a gaggle of artsy urban bohemians at the time, so I’m not certain I didn’t draw the short straw. It was all I could do to get some of them to simply bathe more than once a week — a smog-cloud of Angel blowing past my day might have been a welcome relief. Fast forward eighteen years, and my experience with Mugler’s sweet and fruity patchouli was limited to polarizing discussions (i.e. flame wars) on various fragrance forums, so I felt I was missing something — like someone who’s never actually seen “Twilight” yet continuously finds himself caught in the middle of a passionate fight between fans who love it and anti-fans who find it too nauseating to even consider. But the whole larger-than-life, toxic patchouli cloud, love it or leave it descriptions of Angel didn’t particularly spark the desire to encounter it on my own, until I read about the Liqueur de Parfums, versions of Mugler’s Angel and Alien that have been barrel aged in wood casks for eight months, a la fine cognacs, whiskies and wines. It was Abigail at I Smell Therefore I Am who first coaxed me to dip my toe into the Mugler waters with her abiding adoration of Alien Liqueur (Abigail is probably one of the most successful fragrance enablers I know — she launches into one of her impossibly enthusiastic raves and before you know it, you’re charm-tied into knots), and while I ordered samples of Alien and Alien Liqueur from her Posh Peasant site, I also snagged samples of Angel, Angel extrait and Angel Liqueur to round out the experience. I’m glad I did. So okay, here’s the deal. The original Angel? It’s huge. Like, gigantic. One spray from the sample vial and my entire bathroom filled with the scent, which then spread to the bedroom and out into the hallway. I didn’t hate it — it was a nice enough fruitchouli, though a bit harsh around the edges — but I couldn’t conceive of palling around with such an attention-whore all day. It’d be the equivalent of saying “yes” to a ride in a Ferrari only to find myself strapped to the hood and barrelling down the California highway at 120mph. In other words, I’d really have to be in the mood. Angel Liqueur, however, functions at a much more serene level on the rev-and-throttle chart. I orignally stated (in my February 8th test-spin) that two sprays of the Liqueur version were enough to last all day, and while that’s the truth, Angel Liqueur is so successful at what it does — ripe Port-wine sweetness stuffed inside a honey infused patchouli — that I’ve been adding to the spray count just because I want to experience its lush presence more fully and distinctly as I go about my day (though I’ve only been able to up the spray count to five, max — and five is seriously pushing the envelope; any more than that and I’m unnecessarily jeapordizing my social circle). I can’t say which aspect of Angel Liqueur I like the best, since it doesn’t really scream “here’s the opening, now we’re at the middle and ta da! the end”, the way a lot of perfumes traditionally do. And while it has the appearance of phase-development, the Liqueur is subtle about its shifts and twists: it’s a boozy, fruity, choco-caramel patchouli; then it’s less boozy but still jammy dessert patchouli with a honey crust; then it sheds the concentrated reduction sauce and wraps things up as a soft, silky patchouli without a hint of head shop hippie, but done with such an adept hand that you hardly notice as the elements are shifting and the phases are turning. I’d be tap tap tapping away on my laptop and six hours later, I’m thinking, “God, what a generously deep scent!” Octavian at 1000Fragrances seems to agree: “The new versions of Alien and Angel have the depth, quality and richness of classic perfumes. Compared to the originals, all asperities have been softened, all contrasts smoothed . . . In terms of scent, (Angel Liqueur) is not a variation of the original … but an improvement in depth . . . (Angel Liqueur) show(s) that high quality products can coexist with commercial distribution.” And that’s what I think surprises me the most about Angel Liqueur de Parfum — it’s a mass market product from a global fragrance company, yet it doesn’t smell mass market. It has the depth and polish of a sophisticated boutique label while clocking in at a mainstream “prestige” (i.e. department store rather than drugstore) price point. Re: Packaging: The look and feel of the piece is nicely done, though not exactly straining at the creative leash as far as “limited edition” packaging is concerned. The box is functional enough (it protects the bottle from damage), and the bottle is an attractive deep blue to purple glass, playing on the original Angel star shape with its jutting angles and planes. But the cap, despite looking terrific in photographs, is either plastic or some type of similar lightweight, thermo-molded variation. Not particularly L.E. impressive, but it also won’t chip or crack — a valid point to make, as the small bottle tends to tip a lot due to its uber-angular form. *Note: At least, I tend to knock the bottle over a lot, but I’m a bit clumsy with precious, breakable things. I still cringe when I think about the antique Louis the XIVth chair I fell over in and broke in a wine collector’s cellar after one too many glasses of vintage brew. It was not one of my finer moments. But the Angel Liqueur atomizer? Five Angel stars! Not a drip or even the tiniest of leaks, and the spray is exceptionally fine, which makes for excellent coverage when you’re waving the bottle around and pumping on the nozzle. The only other bottle I’ve found that sprays as fine a mist (and with nary a leak) is the Chanel Les Exclusifs package, so maybe it takes a mass-produced brand to order bottle-parts in such high quantities that an excellent atomizer is no longer a price consideration. I’ll wrap things up with a few Angel Liqueur fan quotes from others: Brian at I Smell Therefore I Am: “Angel Liqueur brings to mind port wine (or, okay, cognac) and dark, aged leather, all of which I love. The first ten to twenty minutes are pretty divine, with a protracted, boozy opening.” Robin at Now Smell This: “The dry down is still rich, but it’s mellower than Angel: a bit less patchouli, a bit more smooth woods. Likewise, it’s still sweet — possibly even more so — but there’s less chocolate (if any) and less caramel; it’s the sweetness of honeyed dried fruits rather than the cotton candy and other childhood treats of Angel. I don’t know that Angel really evoked a childhood fairground for me, but the Liqueur de Parfum certainly does not.” The Scented Salamander: “Angel has become deeper, more liquorishy, and as if sprinkled with dry cacao powder. The patchouli in it is quite chocolatey. The honeyed facet is also there to contribute to a dry fruit effect. It feels warm, enveloping. The only regret you have is that it does not unfold on an even deeper note. Somehow, you would like the scent to spiral down even more and you remain a bit frustrated that richness here has a limit. But besides this critique, it is a very alluring version of Angel.”
